by Rico, Lauren
“I don’t see why she doesn’t know, the rest of us sure do,” he smirks.
I laugh as I head toward the bedroom myself. He’s right.
I find Julia sitting on the bed, looking distantly out the window. There isn’t much of a view, just the alley behind the building. But she’s focused on it intently, lost in thought. So much so that she jumps when I come to stand next to her.
“I’ve finished the list. You can go to the market whenever you’re ready.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?” she asks, without turning away from the window.
“Nope. I’m going out.”
I wait for her to ask where, but she doesn’t. She catches on fast, I’ll give her that.
“What time do you want dinner on Christmas?” she asks softly.
Good girl.
“I think five should be fine.”
She nods, still not so much as glancing my way.
“I miss you,” she says.
“What?”
“I miss being with you. I miss your company. I miss your… attention.”
“That’s your problem now, isn’t it?” I say coldly.
“I suppose it is,” she mutters.
“Are you trying to be a smart ass, Julia? You know I hate that.”
It’s clear when she looks up at me, that this was not her intent. But I don’t care. It’s fun to fuck with her. And I’m quite sure part of her gets off on a little forced submission.
“No,” she says, shaking her head.
“I think you are. Perhaps you need a refresher course in good manners?”
She blinks hard, trying to work out what I mean. She knows.
“Stand up.”
She does.
“Take your blouse off.”
She does.
I reach around behind her and unclasp her bra, and pull it free of her shoulders. I cup her breasts in my hands and she gasps. She reaches out to pull me to her but I step back.
“Uh-uh. You don’t get to touch me.”
Her eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“I don’t... what do you want me to do…”
“I want you to shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to do. Is that so hard?”
She shakes her head slowly.
“Lie back on the bed,” I say sternly.
She does, and I join her, pulling her skirt up to her waist. I love skirts. They provide such easy access. Once the panties are off, I’m all hands, fingers, tongue and teeth. She’s writhing, mewling for release.
“Please… please...” she murmurs.
“Please what?”
“Please, Jeremy. I want you.”
That’s all I need to hear. I stop what I’m doing abruptly and stand up and walk to the door. When I look back she’s sitting up, naked above and below the skirt that is now twisted around her waist.
“Wait…” she says.
“What?”
“I haven’t... I mean we didn’t… don’t you want to finish?”
“I am finished, Julia,” I say as I turn my back and walk out the door.
Get used to it, you’re going to be abandoned again, and again, and again. If you thought your nightmares were bad before…
37
I am an exceptional creature in an unexceptional world. Don’t get me wrong, as liberating as it is to be free of emotional baggage, it’s not without its difficulties. I mean, people tend to notice when you’re not sad at a funeral or ecstatic at the birth of your first child. What comes naturally to everyone else is a carefully practiced craft for someone like me. My face is a permanent mask. On the plus side, I’ve learned that the people all around me are my teachers. From them I can assess what fear looks like, what grief sounds like or how I’m expected to respond to exciting news.
So if I want to move freely among the “normal” people, I have to appear to be one of them. In other words, if you really want to know your enemy, you must become him. Think like him, act like him, be him. It’s what I do on a daily basis. I assimilate mannerisms and body language. I mimic speech and mirror expressions.
With Julia, it’s been easy, no digging required. She wears her insecurities like a tattoo across her forehead. No, more like a bright, flashing neon sign. The girl was abandoned by her mother and abused by her father. She grew up in the nurturing arms of the state foster care system with that pussy Matthew as her only friend. By the time I took notice of the shy Miss James, she was desperate for security and hungry for unconditional love. Talk about low-hanging fruit. And now she’s mine. Emotionally, sexually, intellectually. Completely.
I can see Matthew’s frame filling the doorway of her practice room when I come down the hall to find her. He doesn’t go to school here anymore, the son of a bitch should just mind his own Goddam business.
“What’s wrong with you? Mila told me you were late for rehearsal,” I hear him say to her.
“I overslept,” she replies with some irritation. “It happens, Matthew!”
“Julia, Dr. Sam actually called me because he’s worried about you. He says you’re not putting in enough practice time and he’s concerned you won’t be ready for your final recital…”
She says something that I can’t hear.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Matthew demands. “Is he keeping you from practicing? You know he’s afraid you’re going to beat him out…”
“Stop it! You’re just being difficult because I’ve been living with Jeremy.”
“Don’t say that. You’re not living with him, you’re just… fucking around with him for a while.”
“I think what you’re trying to say, is that she’s fucking me, Matthew. And yes, she is, on a regular basis. Which is more than you can say.”
Matthew turns around.
“Nobody’s talking to you, Jeremy,” he hisses.
“I am!” I hear Julia from inside. “Jeremy?” she calls out and I push past Matthew to take my place besides her.
“Are you coming home for Christmas Eve dinner?” he asks her, ignoring me.
“We have plans already, Matthew, but thanks anyway,” I answer for her.
“Please, at least come by on Christmas morning,” he says softly.
“I... I don’t know, Matthew,” she says, looking up at me nervously. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
The poor fuck looks devastated. This is probably the first Christmas he’s spent without her since their pathetic little orphanage days. Christ, between the two of them, I feel like I’m in a Dickens novel.
“Is Dr. Sam wrong? Are you ready for your recital?” he asks her.
She shrugs.
“Well, I guess I haven’t gotten as much playing time in as I probably should.”
“That doesn’t sound like you, Julia,” he says, looking more concerned. “Not at all. This recital is coming up fast…”
“Come on, Jules,” I cut him off. “We’ve got to get home,” I say, taking the cello from her and putting it in its case.
Matthew actually flinches when I refer to my apartment as her home. Still, he’s standing in the door, looking back and forth between the two of us.
“Was there something else you wanted?” I ask him with an arched eyebrow.
“Yes, actually, Jeremy. I’d like very much for you to go to hell,” he spits back at me.
I give him my shiniest smile.
“Now, now, Matthew, just because she loves me more than she loves you doesn’t mean you have to get all nasty.”
He’s fuming.
“Matthew…” Julia starts to speak, but stops abruptly when she sees the look on my face.
“What? What is it, Julia?” he’s asking now.
She shakes her head.
“Nothing,” she says quietly.
“Julia, if you’re in trouble… if you don’t want to be with him… Don’t be afraid. Just say the word and I’ll take you back home right now. To our home.”
“Matthew, I’m not afraid!” she stresses to him firmly. “I–
I love Jeremy, and he loves me. I wouldn’t be with him if that wasn’t the case.”
There it is. Matthew gives a curt little nod and leaves the practice room without further comment.
“I don’t like you talking to him, Jules,” I say to her as she packs up her music.
“He’s my best friend.”
“I don’t care. He upsets you every time you talk to him lately. It’s not good for you. I think you need to take a break from Matthew for a while.”
She stops and looks at me carefully, trying to assess my mood. In the end, she doesn’t say anything, just stands up and takes the cello case from me. Once we’re out on the street again, headed for the subway she takes my hand.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about my mother,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. And I don’t think it was an accident that we met like that.”
Uh-oh. If she thinks I was involved with that, we might have a problem.
“I think we were meant to find one another again. I mean, how else do you explain the sequence of events that brought us together?” she finishes.
Unbelievable. This is just too easy.
“And what does that mean? Are you going to get in touch with her again?” I ask.
She shakes her head slowly.
“No, I don’t think so. Just because we were meant to see one another, doesn’t mean we should have a relationship. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her.”
“You can’t make people love you, Jules,” I say, knowing I’m hitting a sore spot here.
“You don’t think she loved me? Like ever?” she asks, almost begging me to assuage her insecurities.
“Probably not,” I say in my most therapeutic tone. “How could she? She abandoned you. She knew what kind of a man your father was, and she left you with him anyway. She knew he’d take it out on you and she didn’t care. She could have taken you with her but she didn’t want you, Julia. I think the sooner you accept that fact the easier it will be.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her surreptitiously swipe at a tear rolling down her cheek. I cough into my hand to hide my lips, which are twitching up into a smile.
38
She’s standing in the kitchen, hopping up and down, excitedly, holding a flat box wrapped in gold foil paper with a bright green bow on it.
“What’s this?” I ask her, once I’ve straightened up from basting the turkey.
“It’s your Christmas present, silly,” she says with an excited smile. “Go on, open it!”
I pull the bow off and peel the wrapper from a black box. When I pull the top off I find and envelope. I take it out and open it. There is printed receipt for two plane tickets inside.
“Surprise!” she squeals. “They’re for the International Horn Conference in Miami this April. You said you’d never been… and since it’s here in the US this year… I thought it would make a great vacation for us. It falls right over the McInnes spring break.”
Wow. These weren’t cheap.
“Thanks, Jules,” I say, giving her a peck on the cheek and closing the box up again. “Okay. We’ve got company coming in less than hour. Where are we on the potatoes?”
But Julia is looking at me expectantly.
“What?” I ask.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Oh, come on, stop teasing! Where’s mine?”
“Where’s your what?” I ask with genuine confusion on my face.
“My Christmas present!”
I stare at her blankly and watch as the excitement vanishes from her face.
“You…” she begins softly. “You didn’t get me a Christmas present, Jeremy?” she asks, sounding more than a little hurt.
“Uh, actually, no. No, I didn’t, Julia. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were expecting one,” I shrug.
Julia doesn’t say anything else; she just nods and gives me a tight smile. She picks up a stack of dishes and sets them out on top of the dining room table. But she doesn’t stay there for long. I hear the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut.
“Do you want me to check on her?” Brett asks when I tell him what’s happened a half-hour later.
“Nah, I’ll do it. I think we need to have a little talk about the Christmas spirit.”
When I open the door to the bedroom, I find Julia lying face down on the bed, crying softly into a pillow. I close the door quietly behind me and take a few steps toward the bed.
“Okay, enough of the theatrics. We’ve got company coming in about fifteen minutes.”
She sits up and glares at me, as she uses her sleeve to dry her eyes and cheeks.
“Company?” she whispers angrily. “You had me thinking half the brass section was coming. It’s just Brett and that ass, Tom Carson. You know I hate him. Why would you ask him to spend Christmas dinner with us, but not Matthew?”
I sit down on the edge of the bed.
“Hey, this is my home, Julia. I get to decide who is and isn’t invited. Tom is a welcome guest so I suggest you get off your high horse and start treating him like one. As for Matthew fucking Ayers, he’s definitely not welcome in my home, so that was never gonna happen.”
She’s fuming.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve…”
I hold up a finger and stop her mid-sentence.
“No, you’ve got a lot of nerve. You want to go back to your swanky digs in Lincoln Center? The door’s right there. But you won’t be seeing me again anytime soon, if you do.”
“What? Why are you being like this?” she asks, her eyes welling with tears again. “Jeremy, I love you! This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The two of us living together? Why are you being so mean to me all of a sudden? What did I do to make you so angry with me all the time?”
“Julia, I’m done with this discussion.”
“Well, I’m not,” she says, her dismay turning to irritation.
I give a heavily annoyed sigh and stand up.
“Get up,” I say in a cold, flat voice.
She doesn’t move.
“Julia, so help me God, if you aren’t out of that bed in ten seconds I’m going to drag you out by your hair.”
This time there’s something more in my voice. A serious threat.
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” she spits back at me, still not moving an inch. So, I make good on my promise, grabbing a handful of her long, red hair and yanking her up to her feet.
“Ouch! Jeremy, you’re hurting me!” she howls.
From the living room, I hear the sound of the intercom and then Brett buzzing Tom upstairs.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” I snarl.
She wipes the tears from her face and straightens up. Oh, so the Mouse is going to try and stand up to the lion. Good luck with that, sweetheart.
“I will not. I don’t care who hears me. If you think for one second that you can treat me like this, then you are very much mistaken!”
I move even closer until my face is only inches from hers. She tries to push around me, but I block her.
“Julia, I’m in no mood for your pouty little girl bullshit. So get into that bathroom and wash your face. Fix your makeup, put on a smile, and get your ass out there to play hostess, before I really give you something to pout about.”
“Jesus…” she says under her breath, shaking her head incredulously. “You sound just like my father. ‘I’ll give you something to cry about…’ That’s what he used to say.”
I’m unmoved by her comparison.
“Well, if this is the way you acted with him then I can’t say I blame him.”
Her hand flies up to slap me, but I catch her wrist easily before she can get anywhere close. I give it a good hard wrench and her knees buckle from the pain. When I let her go suddenly, she falls to the floor next to my bed with a dull thump.
“If you ever even think about doing that again,” I hiss, “I’ll break your wrist so badly you’ll never hold a pencil again, let alone a
bow. Do you understand me, Julia?”
She looks up at me from the floor where she’s cradling her arm. Tears are now streaming down her cheeks.
“Do you understand me?” I repeat, more slowly this time.
She nods.
“You have five minutes, Julia. If you’re not out there, I’m going to tell them you’re sick and ask Tom to leave. Trust me, you do not want him to leave this apartment when I’m this angry.”
She’s still staring after me as I standup and exit the bedroom, without so much as a glance backward.
It takes six minutes, but Julia emerges from the bedroom looking fresh-faced and smiling. She holds her right arm close to her body.
“Merry Christmas!” she says brightly.
39
Julia is in the shower, getting ready to go out to dinner when I pick up her phone and start reading through her texts and emails. I’ve been watching her outgoing and incoming messages very closely for the last week, waiting to see if she’d tell Matthew about what happened Christmas night. But, so far, nothing. She’s also been making much more of an effort to stay on my good side since that night, so I reward her with New Year’s dinner out. I think it’s going to be an uneventful night until the waitress stops by with the bill.
The girl is very busty. In fact, it looks as if she might spill out of her blouse at any moment. What is it with waitresses? They can’t seem to keep their hands off of me. This one, with long sandy hair and blue eyes brushes my hand with her finger as she hands me the folio with the check. I smile up at her and she leans down to whisper in my ear. When she’s gone, I find Julia staring across the table at me, clearly furious.
“Unbelievable!” she exclaims.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Her! What nerve to flirt with you with me sitting right here!”
I waive a dismissive hand at her.
“What did she say to you just now?” she demands.
I don’t like demands.
“Nothing.”
“Jeremy...”