Henry sat behind his desk, poring over students' assignments. He lowered his head, supporting it with his left hand, and most of his face was hidden behind the spread-out palm. His fingertips lightly wandered from his temple to his brow, almost as if massaging his temples. The fatigue and resignation between his brows seeped into his features like thick ink spreading in clear water.
His right hand, flipping through assignments, abruptly stopped and turned back to the previous page. In an instant, his unfocused gaze snapped back into focus, and he concentrated on the assignments once more. Then, the faint sound of the door opening at the entrance reached his ears, causing Henry to raise his head. His left hand slid down to his jawline as he looked openly towards the door.
It was Meredith.
"Hi, Mr. Barthes."
"Hello, Meredith," Henry curved his lips into a smile, welcoming her visit. "How's going?"
Meredith held a large mustard-colored envelope in her hand and gently closed the classroom door. She approached Henry with cautious steps, avoiding eye contact. She raised her hand and tilted her head slightly, trying to disguise her shyness and nervousness. But her attempts at nonchalance only made her appear more awkward. "Fine, I am alright... I made a picture for you."
Only now did Henry notice Meredith's distance. He beckoned her over with a friendly tone. "Come here." He glanced at the assignments laid out in front of him, quickly drew two lines with a pen, and then put the pen down. He looked up at Meredith, who was approaching slowly. "You did?"
"Yeah," Meredith replied with a shy smile, almost whispering her answer, her voice trembling with a hint of nervousness.
As Henry took the envelope from her, Meredith moved closer to him, then retreated a bit. In the end, she took a few small steps forward, standing by Henry's side. She turned her head and watched as Henry extracted her work from the envelope. Anxious and fidgety, she played with the ring on her finger, her mouth dry from nervousness, occasionally licking her lips.
Henry held Meredith's entire piece in both hands, his gaze deep and focused. It was a photographic work. On the left was an empty classroom, and on the right was a half-length portrait of him, but without a face, just an empty gaze directed at the empty classroom. The black and white tones were cold and heavy, evoking a sense of inner desolation and loneliness.
Henry's gaze deepened slightly, and a trace of sorrow appeared sporadically between his brows, deeply hidden in his eyes. "Wow," he sighed softly, but his eyes never left the photographic work in his hands. Art was important because it reflected, to some extent, everyone's inner world. Whether it was painting, photography, film, or music, both creators and observers projected different depths and content from the same artwork.
"It's beautiful," Henry murmured in a low, hoarse voice, as if speaking to himself. He genuinely expressed his admiration, and he heard Meredith's shy yet joyful voice saying, "Thanks," which interrupted his thoughts. He raised his head, furrowing his brow slightly, and his gaze filled with curiosity. "Have you been doing this for a long time?"
Meredith became shy and didn't know what to do. She scratched her head, and despite her efforts to suppress it, her lips curved into a broad smile, and the laughter sparkled in her eyes. "Yeah, I've been doing it since I was a kid," she replied while looking down, her chin almost touching her chest. Even though she tried to bite her lip, she couldn't contain the smile that crept onto her lips.
Henry stared at Meredith in bewilderment. He still had a smile on his face, but it was now tinged with a touch of loneliness. His gaze dropped as he continued to examine the artwork in his hands. "Faceless man in an empty room," he said softly, his eyes growing deeper as he immersed himself in his thoughts. He asked, "Is that how you see me, Meredith?"
Those deep pupils, like the photograph in his hand, gradually dissipated, and the face was disappearing.
Hearing his question, Meredith became even more shy and glanced away as if her inner thoughts had been exposed. She quickly stepped back a couple of paces, her hands clutching the hem of her vest awkwardly, her body swaying gently like a young girl. But then she gradually froze, her gaze fixed on Henry. She stared at him quietly.
"I don't know how I see you..." Meredith paused for a moment, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. She continued hesitantly, "It's just how thought of you in a situation." Meredith recalled her creative process. "Do you ever think about who your teachers are outside? In real life?"
Henry placed the artwork he was holding back on the table and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples with his hand. He intentionally or unintentionally increased the distance between himself and Meredith. "I guess so. Does this place seem unreal to you?"
Meredith didn't know how to respond. After a pause, she saw Henry raise his gaze, and their eyes met. This awakened Meredith's memories, and she explained hesitantly, "I watched you around the school..." Her words were slightly hesitant, but she continued, "You always seem so sad."
Henry's lips curled up slightly, revealing a smile, but there was a layer of cold mist in his relaxed brows and deep eyes. The loneliness and sorrow within his smile were even more heartbreaking.
Meredith attempted to speak but found herself inexplicably choked up. Her eyes became slightly red, and she awkwardly averted her gaze from Henry. She raised her shoulders, which seemed to signify her helplessness and the establishment of her defense mechanism. "Maybe..." Meredith's words faltered, her voice growing quieter, almost a murmur to herself, "Maybe you have a hard time with things."
The shared pain made her words fragmented, almost like a whisper. She quietly cast a sidelong glance at Henry, her lower lip whitening as she bit down too hard. Her voice was filled with caution, anxiety, hesitation, and nervousness, yet it carried a strong sense of yearning. The intense emotions caused her voice to grow hoarse as she continued, "And you need someone to talk to..."
Her subsequent words faded away in her throat, and you could faintly hear the quiver in her voice, brought about by the fear of losing control and revealing too much.
Henry lifted his gaze, carefully studying Meredith. The bitter and melancholic smile on his lips briefly lifted before settling down. There was a hint of kindliness in his eyes as he stood up, maintaining an equal footing with Meredith. Despite towering over her by more than two heads, his gaze remained at her eye level.
Henry attempted to approach Meredith but hesitated for a moment, taking a step back to maintain some distance between them. He lowered his head, contemplating deeply, chewing over his thoughts. Then, he concealed all the mixed emotions in his eyes, returning to his usual aloof and detached demeanor. He raised his head again and said, "Meredith?"
"Yes, sir," Meredith replied, looking up at her teacher with admiration and closeness in her eyes, searching for any change in his expression.
Henry raised his hand, trying to massage his temples, but stopped halfway as he realized that such a gesture would reveal vulnerability and heaviness. He let out a soft sigh and asked earnestly, "Do you need someone to talk to?"
Meredith's nose tingled, her eyes started to redden, and her voice trembled softly. She nodded vigorously and said, "Yes..." Her voice became fragmented, earnest and desperate as she continued, "Will you talk to me?"
Henry gently closed his eyes, concealing the fleeting sadness and pain within them. Then he nodded in affirmation.
Meredith took a small step forward, but she saw Henry's upper body stiffen, and though he didn't evade her, the muscles in his back froze, creating an invisible wall of distance. This defense mechanism was initiated as their physical space narrowed and their mental space expanded. He wasn't being cold or heartless; he was simply afraid, fearful, retreating, worried, and desperate. It was as if he were a desperate abyss, destroying anyone who got too close. He didn't want to destroy Meredith.
However, immersed in her own thoughts, Meredith didn't notice this. "When you talk to me, when you look at me, it's like you really see me," she said, her eyes slightly reddened, filled with tears, and her voice carrying a strong nasal tone. The sadness and despair in her words reflected Henry's soul.
Henry quickly lowered his eyelids, allowing the fleeting glimmer to swallow all of his emotions. He nodded gently and softly replied, "I do see you, Meredith." It was precisely because he saw Meredith, saw her wounded soul, that he needed to keep his distance. "Do you wanna go see Dr. Parker?"
"Oh, come on." Meredith was disappointed; this wasn't the answer she had hoped for. Out of anger and impatience, she stomped her foot, then took a step forward, venting her emotions. The negative emotions that unintentionally leaked out were burning brightly. "Don't pull me off, I am not, I am not..."
Henry quickly raised both hands in a surrendering gesture, trying to soothe Meredith's emotions. "No, that's not what I meant." He attempted to avoid her gaze, knowing it wasn't the wisest choice, but still hesitating, he continued to look at Meredith. However, he gradually moved backward, leaning against the blackboard, sitting on the chair's back, and increasing the distance between them.
"What can I do?"