by Vega, W. H.
This time, I take my glass of wine and head back into the small living room, sinking back down onto the couch. But I can’t stay still, and I take another large swig before scrambling back to my feet and pacing the room.
I keep telling myself that this is what I had to do. I didn’t want to give up Maddie, but seeing her at my door, looking so posh and sophisticated, and so completely what? In love with me? Yes, I think that’s what it was.
It scared the shit out of me.
I am not the kind of person that girls like Madison Evans should be falling in love with. I’m so decidedly wrong for her. She deserves someone young and outgoing. Not some loser professor who can’t get his shit together. Of course, I’ve had success with my career, but that doesn’t mean anything. That doesn’t change who I am inside.
I think back on my relationship with Vera and remember how thoroughly fucked up it was. If I let myself imagine the future, I know a relationship with Maddie would be different. Hell, the little time Maddie and I spent together was different. It was like getting this glimpse into a world that I hadn’t considered before.
I’m tempted to call Maddie and beg her to come back, to assure her that we can try, that we can find a way. That even though I lied and said that I hadn’t thought about the future, I had. I know that Maddie’s career could only flourish in New York, and I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. We could have continued our relationship in New York, albeit carefully, if not secretly.
But I have to remember why I’m doing this. How would a secret relationship be fair to Maddie? Didn’t she deserve better than that? Of course she did!
I let my thoughts race for a while, but as I finish the bottle of wine and start a second, my mind slowly becomes hazy and sluggish. French wine: the perfect numbing agent. Again, just what Maddie wants – a bi-polar divorcé and drunk to boot.
She doesn’t text me that night, and I manage not to text her either. I feel like a complete ass for leading her on. Just one more reason I don’t deserve her.
I don’t remember falling asleep on Monday night, and I awake Tuesday with a killer headache, a bad taste in my mouth and a stiff neck. I’m not in my bed and after a few seconds, I realize that I fell asleep on the shoddy armchair in the corner of my living room.
Groaning, I stretch out my legs and feel the tension in my calves. I sit up and roll my neck, running my hand through my messy hair. The sun is up but I’m not sure of the time. I reach for my phone, but it’s not around and I wonder where I stuck it. Everything from the night before seems hazy and then I remember Maddie.
Fuck.
How I made her leave, how I told her I hadn’t cared. I jump from the chair and cursing as my stomach lurches. I drank nearly two bottles of wine and didn’t bother eating anything.
I stumble into the kitchen and find my phone wedged under an empty wine bottle. Classy.
The clock tells me that it’s nearly eight in the morning, which means I need to haul ass if I’m going to make it to campus for my first class.
“Shit,” I croak, staggering toward my room so I can take a shower.
I let the warm water run over my sore body. This is exactly why Maddie deserves better. It doesn’t go unnoticed that I haven’t heard from her, but I know I’ll see her today in class. If she shows up for class.
Maddie is a good student, and I can’t imagine her not showing. Though I do remember her telling me she had no interest in continuing her private lessons. Which is foolish because she would really benefit from our time together. I suppose I could blame myself for that, too. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Maddie, I could have continued to help her with her music. Now she’s hurting herself, stumping her own potential to avoid me.
I want to stay in the shower longer, but I have to hustle, so I jump out after five minutes and quickly dress in dark pants and a dark shirt. I run a brush through my wet hair and grab my briefcase. I stop quickly in the kitchen and tear off a hunk of bread and get a bottle of water. I also grab four Tylenol to help with my hangover. I’m so damn irresponsible.
I don’t have time for a real breakfast, so the bread and water will have to do. If I get to campus a few minutes early, maybe I can grab a coffee from the terrible coffee shop outside the music building. Terrible coffee is better than no coffee.
As it turns out, I don’t have time for crappy coffee, and when I make it to the classroom, most of the students are already there. Some of their faces drop and I can tell they were hoping that I wouldn’t show so they could have the morning off.
“Sorry, but I’m here,” I grumble, putting my briefcase down and fishing out some papers. I jump right into the lesson, having the students transcribe some pieces and calling on volunteers to come to the board. I end up dismissing them ten minutes early, just so I can get myself organized before the next two classes.
The next class passes without incident and soon it’s time for Maddie’s class to begin. I’m not sure what to expect. I busy myself with papers on my desk while the students start filing in. I don’t want to look, but I can’t help glancing up each time a group of students enter the room. Cleo and Maddie are two of the last students to enter. I look up anxiously, but Maddie doesn’t even glance towards the front of the room; she makes a beeline for the back row of seats.
Cleo, on the other hand, gives me a nasty look, making sure that she holds my gaze so that I know her anger is directed at me, and then she follows Maddie to the back of the room.
Great. Just what I need, now the best friend is pissed off at me too.
I can’t worry about Cleo – that’s to be expected. And of course Maddie would confide in Cleo, she was the only one who knew about us.
I try not to think of Maddie, and it is somewhat easier with her being hidden away in the back of the room. Though I still know she’s there. I can feel her presence. And I can feel the anger radiating off her.
I manage to teach the class, and Maddie, not surprisingly doesn’t volunteer to participate. I don’t make things worse by calling on her, even though she is by far the most gifted student in the class.
I dismiss the class, and force myself not to watch the students leave. I don’t have the heart to watch Maddie ignore me again and I certainly don’t need any petty glances from Cleo. The class has just about left, and when I look up I notice that Cleo and Maddie are lingering. They’re whispering and giving each other meaningful looks and they seem to be having a heated conversation.
“Fine,” Cleo finally huffs, loud enough for me to hear. “I’ll be waiting in the hallway.” She blows past me, but not before giving me another dirty look.
Like I have time for this bullshit.
Maddie bites the inside of her lip and makes her way towards the front of the room. She’s the last one in the class. I notice that she doesn’t have her guitar, so she’s obviously not planning on our lesson.
“Can I speak with you?” she asks quietly, finally looking up at me. She’s dressed in slim jeans with boots, and a simple black sweater. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head in a messy bun and her face is makeup free. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and it’s clear that she has been crying.
I feel like an asshole all over again.
“I’m not sure if this is really the place,” I say slowly, though I do want to talk to her.
“Right,” she says, her voice bitter. “Forget it. I don’t know what I was thinking anyway. You made it clear that there was nothing to talk about.”
“Maddie – wait.” I sigh. Talking to her for five minutes here wasn’t going to ruin either one of us. And as long as no one walked in or overheard, we would be fine. And Cleo was just outside in the hallway.
“I just – I just need to know why you’re doing this,” she says, struggling with the words. “Please don’t tell me again it’s because you don’t care for me, or whatever other lame excuses you can come up with. Please just be honest,” she pleads, and I want desperately to take her in my arms and kiss her and promise that everything will b
e okay.
But I can’t take her in my arms because we’re on campus, and I can’t promise that things will be okay.
I don’t know why I tried to tell Maddie that I didn’t care yesterday. She obviously didn’t buy it. I need to just be honest and give her my real reasons. Again. We have talked about them before.
“Maddie, I think you know why,” I say softly, running a hand through my hair and feeling bone tired. I’m still aching from sleeping in the chair and my head is still throbbing regardless of my meager breakfast and Tylenol.
Maddie folds her arms across her chest, waiting expectantly for my answer.
I continue. “I can’t ruin your career before it’s begun. It’s not fair to ask you to have a relationship in secret. And regardless of your career, this relationship would have to be secret until you graduated. I could lose my position and I don’t need to explain to you the reputation you would acquire by sleeping with a professor.”
She keeps her gaze stony, but I know she’s listening.
“At the very least, we’d have to keep this quiet until May. That much is obvious. But even if we waited until then, I can’t do that to your career. Going public with our relationship would tarnish your reputation and destroy you. No one would take you seriously. Do you understand that? They would see you and think you were sleeping your way to success. We’ve talked about this. And then, factor in your famous parents. Think about the press it would bring them? Think about the scandal. You don’t think the media wouldn’t have a field day with that? You would be a laughing stock.”
I take off my glasses and rub at my eyes. I don’t want to have to continue, but I have more to say. “And that’s just the beginning. Besides the fact that I’m too old for you, you would have to take on all my baggage. Deal with my emotions and mood swings – it’s not fair for someone your age.”
She’s still looking at me like a petulant child, her arms folded across her chest.
“Isn’t that enough for you? Do you really need more reasons?” I expect her to say something in a stubborn tone, such as she doesn’t care or we can work it out, but she doesn’t.
She finally speaks. “I know you’re right. I hear you and I understand what you’re saying.” She moves closer to my desk, her arms finally resting at her side, making her more approachable. “But I still believe we can work through it. I can handle your issues. I had a good upbringing but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t dealt with my share of troubles. There are burdens associated with growing up with two very famous parents. I had a lot to deal with.”
I hadn’t really considered that, but I suppose she could be right. I’m sure there were downsides that came with growing up somewhat in the public eye.
“And,” she continues, “I agree this would need to be quiet until I graduate. But why not deal with one thing at a time? Do we need to look that far in the future?”
Now Maddie was lecturing me about thinking and planning for the future? And just as I feel myself warming towards her – well I was always warm towards her, but when I feel myself caving in – I pull back. I care too much for Maddie – maybe love her?
Yes, I think I love her, and I’m not going to destroy her by letting her foolishly carry on with me.
This is something I can do. Selfishly, I want her in my life, but I have to try to be selfless and put her before me.
“I’m sorry, Maddie. We just can’t. We can’t do this.”
I refuse to look at her as I quickly gather up my papers and shove them in my briefcase. I need to get out of here before I lose my resolve. It’s best that we aren’t continuing our private lessons. I don’t think I could handle that myself.
“Wait. What? That’s it?”
I look up at her, meet her gaze. “Yes, that’s it.” I keep my voice flat, trying not to let my eyes give anything away.
I grab my bag and hurry out the door. I can’t help but glance over at Cleo, who looks absolutely disgusted with me. I rush past her before she can even open her mouth to say anything. I hear Maddie come out of the room behind me and Cleo hurries to her side.
I blow out the doors, trying to get away from the music building as fast as I can. How the hell did I screw things up so badly? I had to start this, didn’t I? I had to beckon Maddie to follow me into the bathroom that evening! I remember knowing that she would follow me and at the same time, being absolutely shocked that she followed me.
I keep my mind focused on how I’m no good for Maddie, repeating the phrase over and over again to myself like a mantra. I’m so caught up in telling myself again and again that I’m wrong for Maddie, that I don’t even notice the figure crouched on the ground outside my apartment door until I’m practically on top of them.
It takes me a moment to gain my senses, and at first, I think its Maddie – remembering how she showed up at my apartment after our argument during her private lesson. But it can’t be Maddie because I rushed out ahead of her.
And then my brain finally catches up. I shake my head, sure that my eyesight must be wrong, and briefly wondering if I was still drunk. Because the dark clothes, cropped hair and hard angles are all I can see.
“Vera?” I whisper. It’s impossible that my ex-wife is now sitting outside my apartment.
In Paris.
“Hi Luc,” she says in her husky voice, standing tentatively. She’s dressed in her usual black – black jeans, a black shirt and a black pea coat. But there’s a shock of purple on her – unusual – the scarf that is wound around her neck.
She looks the same. Her hair is still short and chopped, her face, which I once found pretty in an unconventional, striking way, now looks hard to me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I can’t be nice to her; it’s just not possible.
“Wow. Hello to you, too,” she says sarcastically.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot how well we left things,” I say snidely. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get inside.”
Vera just stares as me, shocked by my behavior.
“I’m here in Paris to see you,” she says bluntly.
Is she fucking serious? What is this about?
“Bullshit. I’m sure you’re here for Uncle Leon.”
She shrugs. “So I made the trip out to wrap things up at his flat. I also came to see you.”
That’s another thing. “How the hell did you figure out where I live?”
She rolls her eyes impatiently, the quintessential bitch as always. “It wasn’t that hard. I just went to NYU Paris and told them that I was your wife. They handed the information right over.” She smirks, obviously proud of herself.
“Well, congratulations. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going inside.”
I unlock the door and start to let myself in, but she catches the door.
“You aren’t going to invite me in?”
“No.”
“Luc, really?”
“Don’t ‘Luc, really?’ me,” I say angrily, “Are you out of your damn mind showing up here like this? Was our divorce not clear enough for you? Or my reaction to you fucking Franz, or whatever the hell his name was?”
She scowls. “Francis.”
“Whatever.”
“I just thought we could move past it.”
“Move past it? Oh, I’m past it! I still want nothing to do with you.”
I’m already disgusted by this conversation and I walk into my apartment, not caring if she follows me. I’ll give her a couple minutes to get the hint, or I’ll toss her out myself. This is the last thing I need today.
“I just thought we could be cordial. You know, maybe get together for a dinner or something while I was in town?”
Something was definitely up. Vera was the coldest person I knew. She didn’t care about dropping in on people, or catching up. Vera was all about Vera. Anything she did, she always did with herself in mind first.
“Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me why you’re here. Why you wasted your fucking time to track down my address
and come ruin my day.”
“You’re still so charming,” she says cynically. But I don’t back down and I wait for her to tell me what she needs. “Fine,” she huffs, throwing her arms up, and walking across the floor, her black combat boots slapping against my hardwood floors. “My flight isn’t until tomorrow and the new owners just moved into Uncle Leon’s place. They weren’t supposed to move in until next week, but they had to bump up their schedule.”
She can’t be serious. I must be misunderstanding her. She looks at me, expectantly, waiting for me to say something, but this whole situation is so ludicrous that I can’t help but burst out laughing.
“You’re kidding right? You can’t actually be here, asking for a place to stay?”
“Yes. That is why I’m here,” she says stubbornly. “And I don’t see what the big deal is.” She gestures to my couch. “I can crash on your couch. I mean, we were married for shit’s sake.”
“Yes, we were married. And there are a lot of good reasons why we are no longer married. Just go get yourself a hotel room.”
“I can’t. My money is really tight.”
“Please. I’m sure you inherited something nice from Leon.”
“I did. But I don’t have access to it yet,” she says through clenched teeth.
“What the hell, Vera? You’re telling me that you don’t have enough fucking money to go sleep in a hotel?”
“I have about twenty Euros on me. And I’ve lost my bank card, so I literally don’t have any money,” she says, gritting her teeth. She goes to continue, but I hold up my hand. I can’t listen to any more of her crap. This is out of control. Vera had always been irresponsible, but this is bad, even for her.
“I want nothing to do with you,” I hiss, “and quite frankly, I could care less if you slept in the damn streets.”
Vera almost looks scared, and as much as I despise her, I can’t literally let her sleep on the streets. Knowing Vera, she would just camp out in my hallway and sleep outside the door to my apartment anyway.
I storm back to my bedroom and she has the sense not to follow me. I grab a few twenty Euro notes and come back out. I thrust them at her. “Take these and get the hell out of here. Go find a hotel, or a hostel, or something! And don’t ever show up at my home again in any fucking city and ask me for any favors. Am I clear?”
