I said, You have answers. I was trying to explain why I had stayed behind when everyone had gone. I said, I’m looking for answers.
Yes, perhaps.
Perhaps…
I have many answers. Some belong to me, some belong to others. If any of the answers I have belong to you, you will surely know it in time. There is no hurry.
No, I said, but unsure.
That is why you stayed behind.
Yes.
But you still question whether the answers I have will betray you. I don’t know. But maybe you should ask yourself if they betray you, does that not make them yours.
I nodded.
Love is not pure. It is the imperfect face with which men can see, given their own particular kind of blindness. Suffering is the shadow cast by being. So imperfect love is, by its nature, a betrayal, simply because it is imperfect. Now, is this the answer you wanted?
No, teacher.
But?
But it’s the answer I was seeking.
Ordinarily, close-lipped and beautiful, my teacher smiled through imperfect teeth.
It was a perfect expression.
I bowed. Had he a ring, I swear I would have kissed that. Instead, he slightly turned his neck, and I kissed his cheek.