by Vega, W. H.
Though, I doubt anyone picks up on it.
Luc discreetly rubs against me as we tour the palace, and brushes his hand against the small of my back. When he guides us all into a new area, somehow he manages to stand next to me, the heat radiating off his skin.
“This is out of control,” I whisper to him, our day half over.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says coolly, looking over at me and smirking.
“Oh you know exactly what you’re doing. You and your experienced ways,” I tease, thoroughly frustrated.
He chuckles and walks away, pretending to examine some nearby architecture.
“Ooh, he’s good, isn’t he?”
I look over at Cleo who is grinning at me.
“Shut up.”
She laughs. “It must be hard,” she muses.
I roll my eyes. “You have no idea.” I walk in the opposite direction of Luc and Cleo.
Even though Luc and I can’t act like we are together, I still enjoy his company and it’s better than not seeing him at all. The day passes and I can’t wait until I can speak to him alone and figure out when we are actually going to see each other again.
I don’t have to wait too long because Luc calls me late Sunday evening.
“I’m finished!” he says triumphantly, not even bothering to say hello.
“Finally!”
“When can I see you? Can we meet tomorrow?”
A small part of me was hoping I could see him tonight, but I’m sure that Luc is tired and he’s been working non-stop.
“Yes, tomorrow.”
“Okay. How about you come over around six? I’ll make us dinner.”
He doesn’t mention anything about spending the night, and I don’t want to assume things, or come across as clingy if I ask. I figure that we will just see how the evening goes. I agree to Monday, and I hang up the phone, already longing for him in a way that is unhealthy. Amid my desire to see Luc, I also know that I need to pick up the apartment this week and get ready for my parents visit.
My parents are arriving in Paris on Friday morning, and I’ll see them after my class. They are staying until Tuesday morning. Which means I will have over three full days with them. I didn’t realize how much I missed my mother and father. Even though I’ve lived way from home in New York for the past three years, I can somehow feel that the distance between us is this time.
Mercifully, time passes quickly and I’m outside of Luc’s door on Monday evening at two minutes to six.
Hmm, does it seem too desperate showing up right on time? I mean, I’m slightly early, even though it’s only by a couple of minutes.
Screw it.
I knock at the door and Luc throws it open within seconds.
“Madison,” he says feverishly. I hear the passion and longing in his voice and relief floods over me once I realize he’s missed me just as much as I missed him.
“I missed you,” I admit in a soft voice, as he pulls me into an embrace and buries his face in my freshly washed hair.
“You shouldn’t have,” he scolds, “I’m no good for you.”
I make a small sound of annoyance. “We’ve already been through this. I don’t care what you say.”
“But I’m not,” and this time is voice is pained.
I try to ignore the pain in his voice. “Didn’t you miss me?” I ask playfully.
“More than you know,” he says darkly, “more than I should.”
“So melodramatic,” I sigh, and before Luc can respond, I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him.
“Very clever,” he laughs, “Kiss me so I can’t argue with you.”
“Hmm.” I hadn’t thought of it before, but it certainly seems like a good plan for stopping any discussions that I don’t want to have.
“Let’s eat.” He takes me by the hand and leads me to the kitchen. For the first time, I notice the delicious smell wafting from his small, cozy kitchen. Luc helps me into a chair, and chivalrously pulls out a cloth napkin and lays it over my lap. “You’ll want some energy for the rest of the evening’s activities,” he smirks.
Moody Luc is gone, and playful Luc is back.
My night with Luc is everything I had hoped it would be and more. He doesn’t get dark and moody again, and he’s light and playful, which is when I like him best. Though, his darker side still intrigues me. We see each other in class on Tuesday, but we aren’t able to spend time together again until Thursday.
Cleo is gone for the evening, and I have Luc over. We actually manage to keep our hands off one another for a few hours.
“So,” Luc says, looking uncharacteristically nervous, “I’m going to go out and visit Juliette one last time this weekend. You know, meet her family and stuff.”
I press my lips together.
I know he mentioned this, and it made sense. Juliette was a childhood friend, regardless of her overt advances. But I still don’t like it, and I just can’t hide my feelings.
“I can see you’re not thrilled.”
“Should I be thrilled? You’re going out to visit a woman who is clearly interested in you. A woman I can’t compete with,” I can’t stop myself from adding.
“Compete with?” he stutters.
“Yes. I can’t compete with her. She’s older, and French and sophisticated. And beautiful!” Annoyed with myself, I yank my hand through my hair, wondering if I should have dressed up more for Luc tonight. Then, I’m angry at myself for even caring about dressing up for Luc. I was trying to look chic without trying too hard. I had settled on a slim pair of black pants, and a ribbed pumpkin-hued sweater.
“Maddie, you silly girl, there is no competition here. I want you. Not Juliette. I am going over for Saturday lunch and plan to be home by dinner. There will be friendly conversation and I will get to see her girls. Nothing more. I don’t care how Juliette feels about me.” He sighs, reaching over and taking my hand. “I don’t want you to worry about a thing. Just enjoy your time with your family. You can trust me.”
I look up into his warm hazelnut eyes, “I do trust you. It’s her I don’t trust.”
“And I’m assuring you that you have nothing to worry about.”
He gets up and then paces over to the balcony, looking out the doors at our view. He shakes his head.
“What?” I ask curiously. I sometimes never know what is going on inside of him.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this. I’m such an idiot for letting us carry on this way. If I was smart, I would walk away right now and cut your losses.”
“What?” Was he serious? This conversation again?
“I mean it,” he says vehemently, “I am no good for you, Maddie.”
“Stop saying that.”
He whips around to face me and his eyes are tortured. “Want to know an interesting fact?” he asks, a hint of malice in his voice. He doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I’m bi-polar. What do you think about that? And not only that, but I’m prone to bi-polar depression which means that I’m mainly affected by the lowest lows any human could experience.”
He’s rendered me speechless, and I stare at him, unsure of what to say.
“Still feel the same way?” his lips play up into a sneer and I don’t like his change in attitude.
“Yes, I still feel the same way,” I say stubbornly. Defensively. Automatically.
He lets out a bitter laugh. “Sure you do. Right now, in that pretty little head you’re trying to put all the puzzle pieces together, trying to figure it out, trying to understand if this makes me crazy!”
Something inside of me snaps.
“Enough!” I yell, jumping off the couch. “Stop pushing me away. I don’t like it when you act this way. It’s – it’s –’’
He laughs again, his eyes cold. “It’s mean?” he asks, finding it comical.
I jut my chin out. “Yes, it’s mean. You don’t have to shut down and push me away. I’m not going anywhere.”
“And what are you going to do i
n four weeks when it’s time for us to go back to New York? What are you going to do in six months when you graduate? Will we still be meeting clandestinely in the city? How will you not tell your parents about me?”
“I’ll figure it out!” I say angrily, not really thinking about what the future holds.
“And what about when I’m in one of my funks? When I don’t answer your calls or come to the door? When I can’t bring myself to shower for days, and I mope around my apartment, refusing to leave?”
“We’ll figure it out,” I insist, though I can hear the unsteadiness of my voice.
“It’s not just something we’ll figure out,” he shoots back, his tone close to mocking. “You have no idea what that kind of mental illness looks like, the toll it takes on the people around me.” He lets out another hard laugh. “You should have seen the way my ex-wife handled those bouts.”
I gulp. I thought he’d been married, but it had never really come up before. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, plenty of people were divorced, but hearing him say it aloud cut through me in a way that I wasn’t expecting.
His face softens. “You did know that I was divorced, right? I realize now that it had never come up.”
I sink down onto the couch. “Yes, I think I remember hearing it somewhere. It’s just different, hearing you say it aloud.”
“I’m sure it is. You’re young, and it probably seems so foreign to you.”
I wave him off. I don’t want this conversation to become about that. “It’s fine,” I promise, “Really.”
“Look, I should have told you in a different way, not by making a crack about my ex-wife, who was not a nice person.”
“Please, Luc, let’s just let it go for now.” I suddenly feel exhausted. Arguing with Luc is different. He is older and quicker, and somehow it seems to take too much energy; it’s as if I can’t keep up. “Let’s drop this for now. I trust you with Juliette and I need to focus on my parents visiting tomorrow.”
He nods solemnly. He stands up and moves towards his coat. “You look tired. Maybe I should go.”
“No!” I say much too quickly. I regain my composure. “Please. Stay.”
He nods and sits down next to me on the couch, and I curl my body into him. We make love on the couch. It’s different than the other times we’ve been together and I have words to describe it. It’s tender, softer; we connect on a different level. It heals me in some way and that alone worries me. I cling to Luc as if he’s the air that I need to breathe, and I let him make me whole, to love me in a way that no man ever has before.
Luc left sometime between late Thursday night, and early Friday morning. I wake up in my bed, groggy and disoriented. Then my eyes fly open as I realize my parents’ flight will be arriving soon. They didn’t want to impose on Cleo and I, and we didn’t have an extra bedroom anyway, so they will be heading over to the Ritz to check in and wait for my class to end.
I glance at my phone and realize their flight has probably landed. They haven’t called yet, so I quickly jump into the shower. Just as I’m getting out, I hear my phone go off. I grab a towel and answer.
“Hi Maddie,” my mom says. “We’re here!”
“Yay!” I squeal, unable to hide my excitement.
“We’re going to get our bags and then go get settled at the hotel. You take your time, and just come on over as soon as your class ends. Then maybe the three of us can go have lunch.”
“Sounds perfect. Glad you guys got in safely.”
“Okay, sweetie. We’ll talk to you soon.”
“Alright. Tell Daddy I said ‘Hi’.”
“I will!”
I hang up, and get dressed, looking forward to the time with my parents. Cleo doesn’t come home this time, and today I head out towards the Metro alone, desperately willing my boring French History class to pass quickly.
Cleo is already in class, and grinning like the cat that ate the mouse.
“What’s with you?” I ask, taking in her appearance. Her hair is still wet from a shower, and twisted on top of her head, and she’s dressed in the same pants from yesterday, but she’s wearing a man’s button down shirt, which she has smartly belted to make it look fashionable.
“Oh, nothing,” she says happily.
“Nice shirt,” I smirk.
She laughs and soon, it’s time for our class to begin. The hour drags by, but our professor finally dismisses us, and I grab my bag.
“So what do you want to do? Want to grab a sandwich? Or go mill about the city?” Cleo asks as she lazily rises.
“I can’t. My parents got in this morning.”
“Ohhh, right. I completely forgot about that. Well, hopefully I’ll see them so I can properly thank them for putting us up in our apartment.”
“I’m sure they’ll be by sometime to see it.”
“Okay. So, I guess I’ll just head home. Where are your parents staying?”
“The Ritz. I’m heading over that way now.”
We part ways and I promise to be in touch with her later and to let her know when my parents will be stopping by.
I hurry out of class, catching the Metro and making my way towards the Ritz. I walk into the opulent lobby and pull out my phone to look at the text my mother sent. She gave me their room number, and I make my way to the elevator bank. My parents haven’t taken a penthouse, but they are on one of the top floors, comprised of only a handful of suites.
I knock on the door and my mom throws it open.
“Maddie!” she cries, pulling me in for a hug.
“Hi Mom,” I choke out, as she hugs me tightly. She smells familiar and comforting, and I hug her back.
“Let me look at you,” she says, pulling away and smiling. “You seem more sophisticated,” she laughs, “Paris suits you.”
“I’m exactly the same,” I argue, as she leads me inside, but I can’t help wonder if my mom is picking up on the effect my relationship with Luc is having on me. It seems like something only a mother would notice.
My mom ushers me inside, and I take in their beautiful suite.
“Wow.”
She grins. “I know! It’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Maddie!”
I turn around to see my dad, looking handsome as ever, and he gives me a bear hug. “It is so good to see you, girl,” he says.
“You too, Daddy. Thank you for visiting.”
He laughs. “Your mother was only more than happy to have a reason to come spend a long weekend in Paris. She should be thanking you.”
We all laugh and make ourselves comfortable on the luxurious couches that make up their sitting room, which, of course, has an incredible view of the city.
“So, tell us what you’ve been up to!” my mother exclaims, “We want to hear all about it.” She still looks as young and beautiful as ever, brushing her blonde hair out of her face. She’s cut it short, and no longer has the long, flowing waves that went down her back when I was a little girl. Her hair is cut in a longer bob, which frames her pretty features.
She’s dressed in jeans with a pale pink sweater and still looks as fit and trim as ever. My mom has always had that effortless kind of beauty.
My dad rubs my mother’s back as I tell them about Paris, and our recent trip to Versailles. I don’t talk too much, and I only gloss over my lessons with Luc, but my mother picks up on the name right away.
“Luc Pascal? Isn’t he some famous guitar player or something? I feel like I’ve come across his name when doing research for you.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty famous in the guitar world,” I say nonchalantly. My mother is extremely perceptive, and I don’t want to give anything away.
“Well, you will have to tell us more about him, then,” she insists, “but first, let’s go out and find some lunch. I’m starving!”
My parents don’t have to worry too much about being recognized in Paris. Pop stars are much more famous over here than country stars, but they both slip on sunglasses anyway. We find a small restau
rant not too far from the hotel and we settle into a cozy table in the back.
As my parents fill me in on my grandparents, all of whom are doing well, I tell them a bit more about my classes and some of the projects we’ve been working on. We map out our next few days, and my parents decide to come have breakfast at the apartment tomorrow so they can see it and say hi to Cleo. My mom and I vow to shop until we drop afterwards, and my dad is more than happy being on his own for the day.
As we wrap up lunch, I realize how much I’ve relied on my parents over the years for stability and comfort. I don’t think Luc ever had that, and that saddens me. I find my thoughts drifting towards Luc again and again. I pull my focus back to my parents. How am I ever going to hide this relationship from them?
Chapter Twenty
Luc
My dark mood comes back Friday after Maddie and I have parted ways, and I hate that I feel this way. I’m taking my medicine, just as I should, but I still can’t run far from the dark clouds following me.
Part of this is annoyance with myself. Maddie is so open and loving and understanding, but she has no idea about the paralyzing nature of my illness. She is so eager, and bright-eyed with that I-can-conquer-the-world mentality.
Damn her.
I think of her as I dress for my class, and while I’m on campus. I know she has a class somewhere on campus today too, but I can’t quite remember. Even after our argument, we managed to have amazing sex. I wouldn’t quite call it makeup sex, because we weren’t fighting per-say, but it was emotional. I could feel how freely she was giving herself, and I had no idea how I should feel about it. I know she wanted me to meet her parents on Sunday, under the pretense of me being just another teacher, but I wasn’t even sure I was up for that. For some reason, I believed, it would make the situation feel more real, and make me feel even older than I already felt when I was with her.
And yet, as old as I sometimes felt around her being around Maddie energized me. I could actually picture myself with Maddie, which scared the shit out of me. And of course, I always came back to the same conclusion – it wasn’t fair of me to burden Maddie with my bi-polar disorder. She deserved better than that. Someone as happy and go-lucky as she was did not deserve to be brought down by my depressions.
