by Ana Medeiros
A heavy silence took root between them. “Alana?” Julian insisted.
“I promise.”
He leaned closer and rested his forehead on hers.
“Julian, if I asked you to stop going to the club, would you do that?”
“Would you stop going? If I did?”
She wasn’t fast to reply and when she did her voice was firm, but marked by sadness. “No.”
“If it wasn’t for the club we wouldn’t be here.”
Alana pulled back, just enough to face him and Julian lost himself in her haunted gaze. “The Raven Room gives everything. Takes everything. It will do the same to both of us.”
Julian took her into his arms, close to his chest. Even though he would never say it, he knew she was right.
Chapter 13
“Where did you meet this one?”
Julian had accepted Peter and Grace’s invitation for dinner because Grace had called him, excited about hosting, and he hadn’t wanted to disappoint her. Weeks had gone by since his conversation with Peter at Top Notch Beefburgers, and every day since then, when he thought of what Peter was up to and the potential consequences of it, he caught himself closing his hand into a fist. Peter had said he was only seeing one other woman but Julian didn’t believe him. There were probably more. Julian’s major concern was that Peter’s behavior would tear his family apart. He couldn’t let that happen to Seth and Eli.
“At the club,” he finally replied.
“Really?” Peter was taken aback by Julian’s answer. “She doesn’t look like the type.”
Julian narrowed his eyes. Alana was chatting with Grace at the other end of the room and Peter was sitting across from him, staring at her over Julian’s shoulder.
“What do you mean by that?”
Peter grinned, taking the cognac glass to his lips. He didn’t take a sip, he lingered, continuing to stare at Alana. “She could have fooled me. Never thought she was a slutmuffin.”
Peter’s reaction to Alana made Julian uncomfortable and that surprised him. He had never had a problem sharing his lovers. Enthralled by the beauty of Alana’s sexuality, Julian had taken pleasure in watching her at the club. Sure, he and Alana hadn’t been lovers then and that might have been the reason why seeing her with another man hadn’t bothered him as much as witnessing Peter’s looks toward Alana. Now, he was fighting with himself not to act like a jealous lover. But he knew what he was feeling wasn’t jealousy. It had a different nature. He was fighting the need to protect Alana from what he heard in Peter’s voice, what he saw in his eyes.
“Shut your mouth.”
“Man, fuck, are you falling for this girl?” Peter was extremely amused.
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is that the best you got?”
“I’m just surprised.”
“By what?”
“That she’s the girl who finally got you to feel something other than your hard-on,” Peter said, chuckling. “She doesn’t look like your type…at all,” he continued, admiring her from his chair. “First, she looks like jailbait, even more than the other chick, what’s her name?” Peter rubbed his forehead with his fingers. A large grin crossed his face. “Have to say, until her, I didn’t know you had it in you, you know, an appetite for them young. And Alana looks…I don’t know, kind? That’s it. Kind,” he paused, nodding to himself. “I like her. A lot. I’m happy you found her.”
Julian wasn’t sure how to respond. He regretted bringing Alana along. He had extended the dinner invitation to her because he had wanted to spend more time with her. He was also tired of having Peter and Grace setting him up on dates with women they believed would be a good match, hopefully leading to marriage and kids, things he had never wanted. He had thought that maybe them meeting Alana would put a stop to all of that.
“Well, thanks,” Julian tried to smile. He knew he wasn’t being successful at it. “I’m glad to hear she has your stamp of approval.”
“How does her pussy feel?” Peter continued. “Does she give good head?”
Julian’s detached façade started to crack. “Can we stop talking about her?” he asked, his eyes glaring.
“Wow, man, relax.” Peter laughed at Julian. “She’s the first woman you bring into my home. I’m curious, that’s all.”
In that moment he realized that was the reason why he had never noticed Peter’s misogyny. Since their university years, Julian hadn’t introduced his friend to any of the women in his life. Looking back he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. He had a tendency to compartmentalize.
Peter and Grace must have been shocked when he said he was bringing someone with him. They were, understandably, very curious about Alana. In their eyes she had to be different from the other women. His feelings toward her had to be unique. Julian hadn’t thought about what inviting Alana would signify.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Pete. Too much shit in my head right now, that’s all.”
“That’s cool, man.”
They all moved into the main floor living room. The warmth coming from the wood-burning fireplace was pleasant; Julian stood by it and absorbed its warmth.
Grace sat comfortably across from them, near her husband. “I was telling Alana we could be interrupted, at any time, by two rambunctious kids.” She gave a small laugh, enjoying her red wine.
“Jesus, they have endless energy. It’s scary,” Peter added.
“It’s a good thing there are two of them. They can entertain each other,” Julian said.
“Entertain?” Peter grimaced. “Man, it’s obvious you don’t have kids. More like, I just broke my toy. I’m going to go play with my brother’s toy and break it too. Now both of us can cry.”
Grace looked at her husband with an expression of outrage. “Neither Seth nor Eli have done that.”
“Are you kidding me?” Peter turned to Alana. “My wife is in complete denial that our kids are just like every other kid out there. A fucking nightmare.”
Alana chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t have that much experience dealing with babies so I can’t say I know what you’re talking about.”
“Do you have siblings?” Grace asked, folding one of her legs under her body.
As soon as Julian heard Grace’s question, he sharpened his focus. He wanted to hear what Alana would say.
“I don’t.”
“I guess you and Julian can relate to each other, then,” Grace continued.
For the first time since she and Grace had joined them, Alana glanced at Julian. With her hair in a loose side braid, wearing no make-up or jewelry, and dressed in a pair of black jeans and a plain, dark green sweater, she came across as approachable, a no-frills type of person. Julian imagined others always felt at ease around her.
Earlier, when she had removed her shoes at the door, he had noticed her socks had frogs on them. He caught himself smiling. He was starting to enjoy her quirks. The socks with the green frogs had been very fashionable of her. They perfectly matched the color of her sweater.
Julian wondered how Alana was feeling about Grace’s curiosity. He hoped, since it wasn’t him asking the questions, she would feel compelled to give all of them a glimpse of who she was. He had been trying to understand why it was becoming increasingly important for him to know more about her. Maybe they were growing more familiar and he was uncomfortable bringing someone into his home, over and over again, without even knowing her last name. But deep down Julian knew it went beyond that. She was keeping her identity a secret, unwilling to share anything that would allow him to find her if one day she suddenly disappeared.
At the same time, Alana had seen him at the club and had, afterwards, approached him at the coffee shop. It was clear she had wanted to speak with him. In reality, every time Julian sought her out she had agreed to spend time with him. Alana wanted him, but on her own terms. He had to decide if he could accept that.
“So tell us more about yourself,” Grace asked Alana.
“To be honest, I don’t
have anything very exciting to share about myself. I live on the South side, I work at a bookstore, and I love to read. Mostly fantasy and sci-fi. And I volunteer.”
Julian was simultaneously frustrated and impressed by how she handled herself. That had been the same information she had shared with him. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Grace, however, was starting to sympathize with Alana. “You’re originally from Chicago?”
“Uh-huh.”
That was something she had never shared with him before. That was a start. He wanted to join in and ask Alana several more questions but he decided it would be better to allow Grace and Peter to continue to drive the conversation.
“How did the two of you meet?” Grace directed the question to Alana, who then turned toward Julian. She wanted him to answer.
“At a club,” he said without hesitation.
“Since when are you a night club type of guy?” Grace was being ruthless with all of her questions and if the situation had been different, Julian would have gently steered the conversation in a different direction, one where it didn’t feel like he and Alana were being interrogated.
“On occasion.”
Grace slowly shook her head. “Aren’t you always full of surprises?”
From the corner of his eye he saw Alana smirking.
The conversation continued throughout the evening. Peter shared several stories of when he and Julian were in their early twenties, living in a dilapidated apartment in Pilsen, and all they cared about was going to bars and picking up women.
“This one over here always had girls throwing themselves at him,” Peter said, scratching the stubble on his chin.
His friend’s comment annoyed Julian. “That’s not true.”
“Don’t deny it,” Peter scowled at him. “He never had to try half as hard as the rest of us. And, unfortunately, girls went crazy for his I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude.”
This time Julian didn’t say anything.
“I don’t know if I believe that.” Alana looked amused, something Julian had come to believe happened when she perceived the person speaking sounded like an imbecile. A few times already, Julian had been the target of that amused expression and he took pleasure in knowing she was now directing it at Peter.
“How long have you known Julian?” his friend asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe a month, a month and a half.”
“See, sweetheart, I have known this man for almost twenty years. Believe me when I say he usually doesn’t put his women first.”
Peter’s tone was lighthearted and when Alana spoke she was just as cheerful. “You’re absolutely right, Peter. I don’t know Julian as well as you do.” She did not lose her smile. “Maybe no one does. He’s very lucky to have you for a friend. A friend who warns the women he brings to dinner of his contempt for the opposite sex. You make sure I don’t hold any illusions. I hope he thanks you for the favor.”
“You’re the first he has brought over,” Peter said, winking at her.
“Oh really?” Alana raised an eyebrow. “In that case, I have to thank you.”
Peter looked bemused. “Why?”
“Because, as you said, Julian never puts his women first. I can imagine the self-serving reasons why he invited me to join tonight.”
“Oh, don’t go hard on him. I think he has a soft spot for you,” Peter paused, refilling his cognac glass, “and so do I.”
The affable expression never left Alana’s face. “Thank you, Peter.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. And you can call me Pete.”
Julian glanced at Grace and saw she was trying to understand what was happening between her husband and Alana. Since the first day Julian had met her, he felt Grace was always pretending. She had wanted to be a lawyer because that was what her family had expected of her. She had dated a certain type of man because she had been told those were the men who would provide her with what she should need and want. She had married Peter because he fit the image of the ideal husband—a successful young doctor from a stable, wealthy family, who envisioned raising a family in a beautiful house with two cars parked in the garage.
Julian believed Grace genuinely always wanted to be a wife and a mother. But he couldn’t tell if she was pretending not to see that her whole life was just one big ugly lie. Not a lie she told to others, but a lie she told to herself. Day after day. Year after year.
Regardless of her being aware of it or not, when Julian met her years ago, he had gravitated toward her because of it. He too pretended. Day after day. Year after year. He considered Peter his best friend, but if he had to stand beside one of them, he would stand by Grace.
“We’re both very happy Julian introduced you to us.” Julian heard Grace say. She was being her usual lovely self and he was thankful for her poise.
Peter had been wrong. Julian always put the women in his life first. He had remained silent because he didn’t trust himself not to make a comment that would start an argument with Peter. His friend had been drinking all night and he suspected it wouldn’t take much to set him off. Julian didn’t want to upset Grace and Alana.
“And don’t listen to my husband,” Grace continued, looking at Alana. “He knows Julian is a great guy. He just loves giving him a hard time.” She rested her hand on top of Peter’s thigh. “It’s been like this since the day I met them in university.”
Peter nodded, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She’s right. And believe me, Julian loves giving me shit too. Speaking of university, what school did you go to?” he asked Alana.
She wasn’t fast to respond, which made Julian think she wouldn’t. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and her words carried some sadness. “I didn’t continue after high school.”
“Why not?”
Peter was not letting it go. Julian wanted her to answer but at the same time he didn’t want her to think that Peter and Grace were asking her so many questions because he had put them up to it.
“In my family, education was never a priority,” she said, matter-of-fact.
“Is your family from here?”
“Do you mean, were they immigrants?” Alana’s question implied she understood what Peter was thinking. “Yes, they were.”
Peter pressed. “From where?”
“Russia.”
She had spoken about her family in the past tense and Julian wanted to know what had happened.
“I have always dreamed of visiting Russia. Have you ever been?” Grace was showing true interest, unaware she was again interrogating Alana. “Do you speak the language?”
“I have never been.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I used to speak it. Not anymore.”
“Julian speaks Hungarian,” Grace added with enthusiasm. “I’m sure you already knew that, though.”
“I did. I have seen his book collection.”
“Say something in your first language,” Grace asked Julian, with a bright smile.
“I don’t know—”
“C’mon, man,” Peter jumped in. “You can say anything you want. It’s not like any of us will understand.”
Alana was now facing him and Julian’s eyes searched her face. There was so much he wanted to ask her. So much he wanted to tell her.
Peter was right. They didn’t understand Hungarian. So, instead, when he spoke he did so in Russian. He wasn’t fluent and he hadn’t said a word in that language in a very long time, but he believed he would be able to articulate what he wanted to say. ‘Thank you for joining me tonight.’
As soon as he had started to speak, Julian knew Alana could understand him. Nothing on her body changed. She remained comfortably seated, her body leaning toward the oversized couch pillows. But her eyes reacted to his words. Her wide gaze, full of longing, drew him in. For the first time since he met her, it was like he was looking at the real Alana, the person he saw at the club. No lies. No hidden truths. No questions left unanswered. No persistent doubts. Just the two of them.
And his reaction to her was the same—Julian felt connected.
“Do you mind translating that into English?” Peter asked.
Julian didn’t want to answer and didn’t want to be there. He wished he could take hold of Alana’s hand and walk out. “I just said how tired I was of the cold and wish it was summer.”
“Really?” Peter sounded disappointed. “We were hoping you would say something dirty.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he managed to say. “Anyway, it’s almost nine o’clock. Alana and I should probably leave.”
“Are you sure? You guys are more than welcome to stay longer.” Grace sounded disappointed.
“Thank you but I still have to do some work this evening. You know how it goes, I spend one hour with a patient and then I have to spend two hours filling out paperwork. I’m also teaching tomorrow.”
After they thanked Grace and Peter for the dinner and the enjoyable evening, Julian drove them back downtown. Alana was quiet during the whole drive and Julian decided it was best not to press her for answers. He didn’t feel like talking himself. Socializing always drained him, leaving him with the need to just be alone with his thoughts. All he wanted was to be home, in his bed with Alana.
They were nearing North Michigan Avenue and East Ontario Street when she spoke. “Stop the car. I’m taking off from here.”
Her request caught him off guard. “What?”
“I want you to stop the car so I can leave. I’m not going to your place tonight.”
“If you tell me where you live, I’ll drive you to your doorstep. Otherwise you’re coming with me.”
“Julian, stop the car.”
“Are you going to tell me where you live?”
She didn’t reply.
“Are you?”
She continued not to answer him. Julian held the steering wheel more firmly. If he wasn’t wearing gloves she would have seen his knuckles turn white. “Alana, I’m going to ask you for the last time, where do you live?”
