“Well?” I ask.
“You’ll have your rent agreement, Gil, I promise. Let me think it over this weekend and I’ll give you a figure on Monday. Mind you, it won’t be negotiable,” she reminds me with her finger pointed. I nod determinedly. Negotiable or not, the fact that she’s decided to figure out a sum is already an accomplishment, and today is the day for celebrating accomplishments. “Oh, dear, I noticed the bicycle in the entrance. Do you like it?”
“It’s Jared’s present. It’s beautiful!” I exclaim enthusiastically.
“I’m happy he met you. He’s finally smiling again and I have to admit the smile suits him better than the pout and the bags under his eyes that he had for four straight months. Had I known, I would have looked you up sooner,” she reveals, looking at Jared who is having a pleasant conversation with Lillian and Margherita.
“I’m happy too.”
“No, you’re in love, that’s different.”
“Is it so obvious? I thought I was better at dissembling,” I mimic her in amusement.
“Touché, dear, touché.”
I stand there watching Jared, won over by his new-found peacefulness. The fact that a small part of the credit for his change is mine fills me with pride. When I met him, I had the feeling that it was hard for him to open up to someone. At first I thought it would be impossible to tear down the wall he had built around himself; for with every step forward, came three steps back, but I couldn’t stop myself from hoping. There was something in him that attracted me from the first moment and I unexpectedly found myself falling in love with him, such an intense feeling I have a hard time controlling it. He looks up and meets my gaze; a seductive smile bends his lips and I feel the desire to taste them again. I blush, trying to bring my mind back to more appropriate thoughts, and go over to him. I am curious to know what he has to tell me when the party is over. I hope Lillian is wrong with her stupid billionaire conjecture.
I’ve almost reached him, when the shop door suddenly opens forcing me to turn.
“Jared,” a man in his sixties with greying hair and Jared’s green eyes barges into the room, followed by a woman who is just a little younger, wearing an elegant blue pants suit, her hair a shade of red that is too intense to be natural. I turn towards Jared, whom I could touch if I just held out my hand, and I notice he is on the verge of shock. He is staring at the newcomers with a disoriented, confused expression, until he suddenly recovers and turns towards me.
“Let me explain,” he whispers imploringly. What? What does he have to explain?
“Mr Robinson,” Father’s amazed voice is like a stab to the heart. “What are you doing here?” he asks, taking a hesitant step towards the door.
The man in the entrance doesn’t consider him even for an instant but stands with his feet firmly planted on the ground and a harsh expression on his face.
“The time has come to cut it out with this nonsense. Come home,” he commands peremptorily.
“Lance,” the woman behind him sets a hand on his arm in an attempt to placate him, but this only seems to irritate him more, so much so that he pulls away his arm and takes a stiff step forward. Lance? Lance Robinson? The son of Henry Edward Robinson? It can’t be!
“Your mother is worried sick,” he carries on unfazed. No, it isn’t possible. Jared can’t be this man’s son. I raise my eyes to his face and I see he has never taken his off me. He looks mortified and that’s enough to tell me this nightmare is real.
“Let me explain,” he repeats, as if a meager explanation could have the power of changing this horrible state of affairs.
“You…” I stammer, incapable of surrendering to the lump in my throat, this fist that seems to have taken up residence at the pit of my stomach, “you said your name was Dalloway,” I remind him, hoping he’ll tell me that was the truth, that he wasn’t the one responsible for Father’s dismissal. He doesn’t reply but continues to look at me with that imploring expression and extends a hand towards me.
No, I can’t accept it. I pull away as if his proximity were scalding, while a noxious feeling comes over me and my vision blurs. Lillian is instantly by my side. She places herself protectively between him and me.
“You had better leave now,” I hear her say. Abundant tears have begun streaming down my cheeks and I can’t stand for people to see me like this. It’s too much. Without thinking, I step past that hateful being that came and tore the veil of Maya, and I run away. I just hope that the cool evening air will give me some relief and silence the insistent buzz in my head and the pain in my chest.
16
I don’t know how long I wandered aimlessly. The phone in my pocket has rung so many times it’s become a background sound with no importance. My head is empty, my heart heavy. Finally I found myself here, in front of Grandma Natalie’s house. The lights inside are still on, though my watch reads two o’clock in the morning. I must have worried them sick, and that’s not me – I don’t recognize myself. Who is this egotistical person who could think of nothing but her pain without considering others? It’s not me, it can’t be me. I pull out my keys and step into the house. The sound of the door brings the four most important people in my life to the hallway.
“Gil!” Mother exclaims, joining me swiftly and holding me tight. “Where have you been? It’s so late now, your father was about to call 911.” I am about to reply, I really want to reply, but this wretched lump in my throat prevents me from speaking, and unbidden tears begin falling down my cheeks. I thought I’d run out – how can I possibly have any left to shed?
“Don’t worry, Judith. What matters is that she’s home now, everything else we can take care of,” Father calmly intervenes.
“Ok,” Mother gives in, letting go of me. “Maybe you had best go to bed, honey. Tomorrow things won’t look so grim to you, you’ll see,” she encourages me with a caress. I look at their faces, full of apprehension, and I feel guilty I made them worry so much.
“Come on, little sister, let’s go to bed. We’re all tired,” Lillian takes my hand and together we climb the stairs heading for the bedroom. I change like a zombie, carrying out actions and gestures rehearsed so many times it isn’t hard to repeat them without paying the slightest attention. In my mind I keep seeing Jared’s expression over and over again, hearing his plea, and feeling the weight of my disappointment because he didn’t tell me the truth. Why didn’t he tell me who he was? Didn’t he trust me? There, this is what hurts the most: the awareness that he didn’t trust me enough to tell me who he was. I could have handled the truth, I’m sure nothing would have changed if he had been sincere from the start.
I slip into bed and Lillian doesn’t take her hazel colored eyes off me. Under the covers, I try to recover the heat I feel I have lost, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I am still cold.
“Is it true?” I ask dejectedly. I desperately need some hope.
“What?” she asks sitting on her bed.
“Will it get better?”
“In time it will get better, Gil, you’ll see,” she reassures me. “Now it seems impossible, but you’ll gradually realize that life goes on and you will naturally follow its course. It will be hard at first, then it will get easier, until you meet someone else and you’ll forget what you’re feeling now.”
I cling to her words, like a thirsty person with their last drop of water. I want to believe her more than anything, but it seems impossible.
“Does it work like that for you?”
“We’re all different. We all suffer in our own way. Don’t think about it now, close your eyes and try to get some sleep,” she encourages me tenderly.
“Did he say something about me?”
“He looked upset. He tried to follow you, but his parents barred his way.”
“What did they want from him?”
“I don’t know, we couldn’t figure it out. Finally Father kicked them out, that Robinson man is really unpleasant, he doesn’t listen to anyone,” she ponders out loud.
“Did he leave with them?” it’s the only insistent thought that comes to my mind right now.
“No, I don’t think so. They continued to fight outside the building, but after a while we saw him come back in by himself and go up to his apartment.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Maybe he couldn’t, Gil. It’s hard to accept the fact that you’ve caused the dismissal of the father of the woman with whom you’ve fallen in love.”
“He could have trusted me, he could have told me,” I insist, sitting up in bed.
“He could have, I know, but he’s only known you for a few weeks – how could he be sure you’d accept the news?”
“He should have known,” I am angry. This is maybe the thing that infuriates me the most: the fact that he thought I was one of those people who judge other people by their past, by their mistakes. He thought I was incapable of seeing beyond, he prevented me from giving him the chance he needed, he didn’t trust me!
“Oh, Gil, don’t be dogmatic. I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“He wanted to talk to me after the party, he wanted to tell me,” I reveal, once again depressed.
“He’s not a bad person, he just made an error of judgement,” she tries to make me see reason. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t find an acceptable reason for his lack of trust.
I lie back down under the blankets and close my eyes. I’m so tired that I wish I could wake up only when this pain has faded enough to allow me to breathe a little.
“You’ll see, Gil, it’s going to be ok,” I hear her murmur before she turns off the lamp on the bedside table.
I embrace my pillow and curl up under the covers, hoping I can forget him, at least for one night.
I spent the weekend locked in my room in Grandma Natalie’s house. Mother and Father understood I needed my space, so they finally gave up and stopped suggesting fun family outings just to distract me a bit. I appreciated the thought, but I don’t want to be distracted right now, I don’t want to have fun. I want to go back to being myself, free myself of this feeling of emptiness, of this disappointment, of these exceedingly intense emotions. I need to live my life as it was before it was turned upside down by Jared, to find my old priorities and dreams. I need to get to work, that’s what I need.
“Grandma, I’m going,” I yell from the hallway before going out.
“Where?” she wants to know in a slightly alarmed tone as she pops her head out of the kitchen.
“It’s Monday morning, where do you think I’m going? To work!” it doesn’t seem all that odd to me.
“To the hat shop?” she asks with the face of someone who has just heard something very foolish and has a hard time believing it.
“Of course to the hat shop. I have to start over again, don’t I? Besides, I have to talk to Jane about the rent. She promised she’d make me an offer today,” I indifferently inform her as I slip the house keys into my purse and open the door.
“Oh,” she says simply. “Don’t be late,” she adds, after a moment’s thought.
Returning to the shop elicits contrasting emotions. It’s clean and tidy again, thanks to Mother and Grandma Natalie who didn’t find anything better to do yesterday morning than come and clean up, but the air still holds the scent of the snacks that covered the counter. The memory of how the evening that was supposed to be one of the best of my life had ended returns to torment me insistently – Jared’s expression and his imploring request play over and over before my eyes, like a tape stuck in the reel. I need air. I go back into the entrance hall and I nearly trip over the bicycle with the enormous yellow ribbon on the handlebars. I hadn’t even noticed it coming in. I can’t refrain from stroking the seat. He bought it for me, to teach me how to ride a bike… I should return it now, it makes no sense for me to keep it, but I can’t let go of the image of the two of us pedaling along the seafront together. How stupid I was – how could I forge such a strong bond with a man who had told me nothing of himself? How could I fall in love with him to the point where there was seemingly no coming back?
Frustrated, I give the poor bike a kick, and it falls on the floor after hitting the wall and raising a deafening racket that echoes up the stairwell; I return to the shop. I came here to work, and that’s what I’ll do. I have a hat to make and a few ideas in mind.
I concentrate on my work for a couple of hours, filling the empty moments with sketches of hats I’ll make later on. Engaging my mind with simple, controllable thoughts distracts me a little, providing the illusion that getting over all this is possible sooner or later, but then the door opens and my determination is wiped away.
“Gil,” his voice is like a magnet attracting me to him. I raise my eyes and find him there on the threshold wearing a dark suit and a white shirt. The only touch of color is the tie impeccably knotted around his neck – the same intense green as his eyes. He is holding a briefcase and I feel I no longer recognize him.
“I don’t feel like talking to you,” I say bitterly, trying to concentrate on the shape of the straw hat on which I am working. It’s so difficult to ignore his presence; it’s so difficult to ignore the desire for him to hold me again, to let him make me feel protected once again.
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” I sense some relief in his tone.
“It’s my shop, of course I came back,” I don’t know why I reply sharply. If Lillian decided to go back to work, I don’t see why I shouldn’t, too, especially after all the hard work I put into this place.
“Are you ok?” he asks taking a step towards me.
“I’m fine. Now leave me alone, I need to concentrate,” I say hurriedly before he comes any closer. I feel my longing for him quite keenly; I’m already making a huge effort to control myself.
“Sooner or later we’ll have to talk,” he says, stopping in his tracks.
“I have nothing to say to you,” I end the conversation before the tears behind my eyes have time to emerge. I sit still, my hands stroking the straw in search of possible imperfections that need fixing. I don’t dare to raise my eyes to him – I know I wouldn’t be able to remain seated on this stool if I saw the slightest sign of pain in his eyes. I can’t stand it, I can’t stand being incapable of being angry enough to convince myself I don’t love him that deeply. I clutch the hat which is by now shapeless and dig my fingers into the straw creating small lacerations. I realize I’ve been holding my breath when I hear the sound of the door closing and I realize he is no longer here. I look down at the hat and see I have to start over again.
I go up to the third floor, glancing behind me at every step. I feel stupid, but I can’t help jumping every time I feel the air shifting or I hear the sound of a door closing. Every time my heart skips a beat and I turn, hoping to see him appear, then I scold myself for this unhealthy desire and I feel the anger growing inside me. I really am stupid.
In front of Jane’s door, I force my lips into a stiff smile that feels phony even to me, but I have no better tricks in my empty top hat, so I knock, hoping impossibly that she won’t notice. Her round face appears after a few seconds.
“Good afternoon, Gil. I was expecting you,” she welcomes me and beckons me in. I obey and find myself in her cozy living room, with the scent of her flowers hanging lightly in the air and the light of an almost dying sun seeping through the windows. Ernest is sitting in an easy chair, sipping tea with his legs crossed and a thoughtful expression on his face.
“I drew up the rental contract, dear, it’s here,” she points at the low table between the couch and the easy chair on which a slim file is set.
“Thank you, Jane.”
“I promised! But why don’t you sit down and have a cup of tea? You really do look like you need it,” she offers, gesturing towards the couch.
“Actually…” I try to turn down her offer, but she determinedly stiffens the curve of her mouth and frowns slightly.
“I get the impression you have inherited Jared’s dark cir
cles and pout by osmosis, my dear,” Ernest breaks in, sitting up in his chair and setting the saucer with the tea cup on the table. “Am I mistaken?”
Not having to face this conversation is an impossible fantasy, right? Frustrated, I let myself down onto the couch with a sigh and Jane settles next to me. Hearing Jared’s name always gives me this feeling of emptiness in my stomach.
“I’m ok, it’s just a bit of sleep deprivation, that’s all,” I play it down with all the conviction I can muster.
“We were at the opening, too, Gil,” Jane good naturedly reminds me, setting one of her wrinkled hands on mine.
“I’d rather not think about him now. I’d like to concentrate on my work and quickly go back to normal.”
“You know he stayed here, don’t you?” Jane’s exceedingly pale eyes stare at me as if she were trying to read my soul.
“I saw him this morning,” I confess dejectedly.
“You can’t pretend nothing’s happened, dear. Feelings can’t be turned off with a switch, they don’t obey anyone’s will.”
“Jane, he lied to me,” I reply forcefully. “He didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
“Sweet, naïve Gil. Truth is overrated; rather, you should cultivate a healthy and innocent selfishness. Listen to your feelings and do as you wish,” Ernest offers, leaning back against the couch.
“I don’t understand,” I admit, trying to withstand his deep gaze.
“It’s simple. If you love him, what does it matter if he was sincere or not? Is being without him what you want? Then steer clear. But if you can’t be happy without having him by your side, why deprive yourself of his company? Think of yourself, dear. Practice a healthy and innocent selfishness,” he repeats resolutely.
“I don’t think it’s that easy.”
“Nothing is, if you persist in complicating it.”
“Oh, Gil. I’m afraid I agree with Erny this time, which is incredible,” Jane ponders.
“I hope it doesn’t happen too often, Jane. I can’t tolerate the unpleasant feeling of being wrong.” And they’re back to their usual unmarried spouses’ routine.
What a Girl Wants Page 20
