by Melissa Jane
Opening up the message he sent, I read it over and over again, absorbing the words, my eyes caressing every letter.
My beautiful Bella. I love you. Sleep well. Hope you are safe. We will catch each other soon.
As the darkness was beginning to fade to gray, my swollen eyes closed, Leo’s perfect face keeping me company in my dreams.
***
I woke up crying, this time for a different reason. The pain pulsating through my wrist was crippling. Either I had been asleep for the shortest time but what felt like forever, or I had slept through the entire day. The sky was black and everything about me ached. My feet were sore from dancing, my head was throbbing from being in the same position for so long and my pain killers had worn off long ago.
Staggering to the kitchen where I could hear movement, I saw Cassie looking bright and chirpy albeit with bed hair.
“She wakes,” she announced as though I had been the drunk one comatose all day. “What happened to your hand?”
“I fell. Well actually, I was pushed by the bouncer who was groping you.”
A look of confusion cut across her face. “No bouncer was groping me. I’m sure I’d remember that.”
“You were too drunk to know. I went to pull you away and he pushed me backward.”
“Pfft!” Cassie gave a dismissive wave. “You don’t need to worry about me. I go out all the time.”
Despite still caring for her safety, I was rather perturbed by her lack of better judgment or empathy toward my sprained wrist.
Her eyes did a downward roll to my bandaged hand. “Monsieur Bordeaux is going to be super pissed when he sees that.”
CHAPTER 33
Monsieur Bordeaux was super pissed as he looked in horror at my injury.
“Are you left or right handed?”
“Right.”
What followed was a string of muttered curses, his hand raking through his hair. In my opinion, not that it seemed to matter in this place, his reaction was little…melodramatic.
“In a week or less, I will be healed and I’ll stay late at night to make up time. It won’t even be a problem.”
“I expect you to be late at night here anyway,” he barked as if I were stupid.
“Okay, well, I’ll think of another way to ensure I’m not dragging behind.” Behind him, I could see Cassie setting up her easel, not even glancing over her shoulder. I knew it was irrational to be upset by this, but a part of me felt she carried some responsibility for what happened whether she could remember it or not.
“You,” he pointed a finger at me, “have not gotten off to a good start. Pick up your game Aussie.” He said ‘Aussie’ as if it were a distaste on his tongue.
Sending up silent prayers, I watched, grateful to the gods when he finally stalked away leaving me in my barren studio.
“Told you,” came Cassie’s condescending tone, her back toward me unable to show her face.
Before I threw something hard and heavy at her, I turned my own back and went about single-handedly setting up my studio. It was a task that took three times as long as what it should have.
I had images of inspiration and those used for my upcoming projects to hang on the three walls. My cupboard needed to be stocked with my paints, brushes, jars and pallet knives. And my canvas sizes needed to be sorted for the collection.
By the time I finished, I was exhausted and only had one thing on my mind.
Leo.
Finding a quiet spot away from listening ears, I dialed his number, my heart pounding with anticipation.
It rang twice before he answered and again without reason, my eyes flooded with tears.
“Bella?”
Hearing his voice sent me over the edge.
“Leo, I miss you so much!” The words were a jumbled mess and I barely recognised them myself.
“Josie, my beautiful girl, calm down.”
“Okay.”
“Take a deep breath.”
Doing as he said, I didn’t feel all that better. I was too far gone to be reined in.
“How are you?” he asked, gently.
“Not good.”
“Talk to me.”
“I miss you, Leo.”
There was a slight chuckle on the other end and the part of my heart that wasn’t broken, swelled.
“I miss you too, Bella. But tell me. What else is happening?”
“My roommate is irresponsible. My teacher already believes I don’t deserve to be here, and takes every opportunity to tell me so. And my wrist is sprained so I can’t begin my series at least for a week.”
“What happened to your wrist?”
For the next ten minutes, I told him about the night and how it unfolded. He listened carefully and asked questions pertinent to my safety. Once I had come to the conclusion that I would never go out with Cassie again, Leo seemed more at peace. The conversation quickly changed to the Latin club and the wonderful people I had met there including François. He seemed enthusiastic and encouraging and I felt a surge of relief.
“Josie,” his tone suddenly turned serious. “The woman I know wouldn’t take shit from anyone. I’ve seen you challenge your Professor’s mistress. I’ve watched you stand your ground against a woman who was supposedly flirting with me.”
“It wasn’t supposedly, she was.”
“My point is, you have a passion for defeating injustice. Don’t let it get the better of you now, when you’re in a foreign country. Make it your bitch.”
“Make it my bitch?” I repeated with a chuckle.
“Yes.”
“Okay, Mr. Santiago.”
“Don’t Mr. Santiago me. Not when you’re so far away and I can’t show you what those words from your mouth do to me.”
“Is that so? I would like to hear more about the effect I have on you.”
“I will call you tonight at eight your time.”
There was a promise in his voice that sent a delightful shiver through my core. I looked at my watch. Only five hours to go.
“It’s a date.”
***
“Oh…my,” I could barely breathe. “Leo, I…”
“That’s it, Josie,” he encouraged, not that I needed any to finish the job. “Come for me, Bella. You sound so fucking beautiful.”
Before he could finish his sentence I was too far gone. Writhing against my vibrator under the sheets while I listened to the erotic words spilling from Leo’s mouth. He was telling me a story, one that involved him doing wicked things to me, already knowing my favorite positions, the way I liked to be touched. His Spanish accent was just the cherry on top.
Trying to keep my orgasmic cries to a minimum, so Cassie didn’t think I was being murdered or…having phone sex, my groans were guttural, laced with passion for a man I missed so dearly. When I finally finished my breathing was heavy and despite the frosty French night, my sheets were damp with sweat under my back.
“Oh how I miss that sound, Josie.”
“I miss all those things we spoke about in your story.”
“Soon, Bella. But for now, you have to concentrate on getting your hand better and finishing your course.”
“What about you?” I asked, hinting that he was still yet to leave this phone call fully satisfied.
“Tonight was all for you, my girl.”
“I miss you.”
“It won’t be for long, I promise.”
CHAPTER 34
A week passed and my wrist was well on the mend. I saw slow success in the studio and while I had been unable to paint, I had begun the preliminary drawings in my sketch pad. They were rougher than normal as I struggled to turn my wrist the way it needed to go, but I was over the moon with the narrative that would play out across the canvases.
I had booked in a time with Monsieur Bordeaux to show him my ideas as he needed to approve them before I could start the application. The others in the small group were well ahead and as I met his stony glare when I walked into his office, I knew I had to pre
pare for battle. Why did it feel like I had inherited a male version of Professor Lindsay? Was she in cahoots with him to ensure my time here was miserable?
“Ms. Marks.”
Holy shit! He even addressed me like her.
“Monsieur Bordeaux, I have my sketches if you would like to take a look.”
Without verbally answering, he tapped his mahogany desk with his index finger.
Placing my sketch pad down, I sat in the chair facing him and watched as he flicked through the pages. Gaging his opinion on the work was difficult. His expression hadn’t changed since I walked in.
“Explain.” Was all he said.
For the next five minutes, I went on tell the story that would unfold. It was based on infatuation, the pain of losing and the hope of regaining. Everything that Leo taught me about Bachata.
To say that Monsieur Bordeaux seemed impressed by the idea was an overstatement. I watched ill at ease as his mouth twisted with every word I spoke.
When I finished, there was silence.
That wasn’t the worst part.
Monsieur Bordeaux’s eyes were locked on mine, barely blinking, void of all tell-tale emotion.
Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, Leo’s words of encouragement came to mind. Squaring my shoulders, I gently cleared my throat which broke the hold he had on me. Blinking, he changed positions in his chair and flicked my sketchbook back to me.
“You can start painting.”
“That’s it?”
“You expect more?”
Well…yeah.
“No, thanks for your time,” I said rising from my seat and collecting my belongings.
“My pleasure.” It was said so deadpan I could almost detect the sarcasm.
***
Another week later, I had almost finished the blocking in of base colours. Allowing certain areas a few days to dry, I then went back and revisited them. I was well behind the rest of the group by a good week, but I knew that after the underlying layers were done I would steamroll through them.
My days were long and exhausting. My nights lonely and heartbreaking. Leo and I spoke every second day, sometimes missing each other due to work commitments.
When in the studio Monsieur Bordeaux would stand behind me and watch. I’m guessing he was scrutinizing my technique, but I could feel his eyes boring into me from behind. I never turned to greet him or addressed his presence. I only knew it was him from the scent of his cologne. My brushstrokes would always become rigid when he was there, my muscles stiffening with anxiety. When he finally did walk away, he would do so without saying a word.
A sigh of relief would follow and I could get back to thinking about the narrative I was creating, and picturing Leo’s face in my head telling me the stories behind the favorite songs we used to listen to.
To say it was getting any easier was a lie.
I still hadn’t quite figured out if I could last the full two years without Leo, but at the moment I was trying to remain strong. We hadn’t spoken about seeing anyone else and I knew, that like me, the thought was something not worth entertaining. But it was a reality. For me? I was too busy meeting ridiculously high expectations at Lafayette. But for Leo, it was something he had to consider. The very thought alone left me in a crippling heap. Crying into my pillow and wishing the world away just to touch or breathe him in one last time.
The one thing that made me feel close to Leo seventeen thousand miles away was Wednesday nights at the salsa club. I had missed two weeks due to my sprained wrist and heavy workload, but I was beyond excited to be returning. François had messaged saying he was eager for my return and I was flattered that he thought that much of me.
“Bonsoir,” he greeted with a peck on each cheek before leading me through the crowd. The dance floor was heaving and unlike anywhere else in this foreign country, I felt like I was somewhere I belonged. Handing me a tall mojito, I accepted gratefully and allowed the first few sips to settle in, feeling myself relax.
“Josie,” François began, “I have someone I want you to meet.”
Taking my hand in his, he led me to a stunning woman who was just a knockout beauty. She turned when she saw us approaching, a brilliant white smile glowing with the shining lights.
She greeted him in French wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him tenderly on the lips. “This is Rebecca,” he introduced us and she leaned in to greet both my cheeks.
“I hear you did Latin dancing back home,” she stated, eyes warm and friendly.
“Yes, not for very long.”
“I travelled to Australia a few years ago and that is where I started my dance career.” She looked like she was reflecting on fond memories. “From where you’re from actually. Leo Santiago was my teacher.”
My heart jumped into my throat.
“You know Leo?” I asked stupidly.
Her eyes lit up. “Of course! He is an excellent teacher.”
Nodding my head in agreement, I listened while she briefly told me about her travels through Australia and how she had found her love of dancing from taking classes in Leo’s restaurant. I briefly wondered if she was keeping intimate details to herself if she and Leo had been together during that time. It was polite of her to do so if that was the case.
“Anyway, I returned back home to Paris and searched out this club and that is how I met François, and now we will be getting married in just over a month.”
Passing on my sincerest congratulations to them both with exchanges of hugs and kisses, I was then approached by a man politely asking for a dance. With encouragement from François and Rebecca I accepted.
I wasn’t overly focused on the moves, content with just being led around the dance floor. My mind was on Leo and the life he and I could be having if I wasn’t in Paris.
That night as I willed myself to sleep knowing I had a big rest of the week ahead, a single tear rolled down my cheek, Leo’s goodnight message and his ‘I love you’ sweetly taunting me.
CHAPTER 35
“The fuck are you doing?” The heavily accented French voice belonging to one supreme asshole of a teacher sounded behind me. His stealth like approach and verbal attack causing me to jump, my brush flicking from my fingers. It landed with a tiny ding on the floor, but not before leaving a trail of gray paint on everything it touched on the way down, including my long skirt.
Turning to meet his icy glare with one of my own, I took in his puzzled expression.
“Could you please warn me that you are there instead of scaring me like that?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise at my reaction. “The thought may have crossed my mind if I wasn’t so confused over your painting method.”
His hands moved to his hips in a show of defiance.
Looking back at my artwork and then back to him, I asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Perhaps it is because of your lack of late night attendance that you feel the need to rush.”
“I’m not rushing.”
“Then why have you missed a layer?”
“I haven’t, I prefer to add in shadows closer to the end.” In truth, I was fed up with him and his constant sour attitude. “Do you have a problem with me being here?”
Behind Monsieur Bordeaux, I could see Cassie’s shocked face watching on. The rest of the studio had fallen deathly quiet, all music and conversation that existed beforehand at a complete stop.
Now folding his arms across his chest, his face that I had once considered handsome, studied me as if I were some annoying opponent he couldn’t shake.
“I find your attitude rather peculiar. Perhaps it’s the Australian in you?”
“Well, I’m sorry, I can’t change that.”
“No, unfortunately,” he muttered, although it was still intended for me to hear. “I am rather surprised that the Lafayette Board granted you entry. They must see something I don’t, and for that reason alone I will have to bear with your minimal, albeit unconventional, progress.”
“Monsieur Bordeaux, I have caught up with the other students and am even ahead of some. As far as my technique goes, the majority of the great masters had their own quirks in application that differed to each other so I hardly call this news. My end result will speak for itself.”
“Your confidence is not an attractive feature, Ms. Marks. Perhaps you should attempt a more humble approach if you are allowing your ‘end result to speak for itself.’”
Turning on his heel, he left, leaving me with the urge to catapult my jar of paint thinner at his head.
“What the fuck?” Cassie approached, looking bewildered. “Are you possessed or something?”
“Cassie, I don’t hear him talking to anyone else like this. And I’m fed up with being the brunt of his abuse.”
“Look I know,” she held her hands up in defeat, “nothing that he’s saying is true. You are the best artist here and your technique is yours alone. But for some reason you have a target on your head. So for fuck’s sake, stop poking the bear.”
***
Deciding against better judgment to call it a day, I took the scenic route home instead. On foot for the first time battling against the cold, I was able to release the pent up tension caused by my time at Lafayette. I barely took in the sights, my mind stewing over the mistakes I’d made, this being the biggest. I loved having the opportunity, but it just wasn’t working out the way I had envisaged.
By the time I got home, with a bottle of unopened wine in hand, I kicked off my boots, poured a glass and opened my laptop. It had been a while since I was online. Too busy ensuring I was staying out of trouble to be social. I hadn’t spoken much to Nicole and I missed her dearly. Logging onto Facebook, I searched her name and typed a message.