Curves for Him - 10 Delicious Tales

by Aubrey Rose, Dez Burke, A. T. Mitchell, Catherine Vale, Marian Tee, Harper Ashe, Eliza Gayle, M. G. Morgan, Shirl Anders, Milly Taiden

  When will you go visit your wife?

  He left the car at the curb and walked through the iron gate. The grass underneath his feet squished wetly with the dampness from the thawed winter frosts, and everything grew bright and green between the stone graves. In places where the caretaker had forgotten to mow tiny alyssum blossoms had taken hold and spread their white petals in the shade of gravestones. His feet took him quickly to the family plot, though he paused before opening the gate and walking over.

  His mother had not wanted Clare buried in the same plot, but Eliot had insisted that she was just as much a part of the Herceg family as any other. They had only been married less than a year before she died. Before he killed her.

  Drawing closer to the gravestone, Eliot blinked hard. The stone was surrounded by grass but right in front of Clare’s stone lay a small bouquet of white roses. He bent down and picked them up, brought them to his nose and inhaled. The smell was still fresh, the roses new and alive. His eyes turned to the gravestone, reading the words engraved there.

  “Clare, oh Clare.” He fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to the cold stone, his eyes closed. He began to talk, haltingly at first, in a low whisper that couldn’t be heard by any living soul.

  “I miss you Clare. I see you—god, I see you every day, everywhere. It’s a beautiful day today. Sunny and cold, your perfect day. I’m sorry you can’t be here to see it. The ice is melting and the stream has come up in the back. I go out and sit there and think about you.

  “The problem is going well. We just solved another specific case; this one was much harder, but I think I can generalize it—of course, don’t let me go on and on about math. You always let me go on for far too long. There’s someone helping me—”

  Eliot breathed in deeply before continuing.

  “She’s lovely. You told me that if anything happened to either of us, we should find happiness.”

  Eliot’s voice shattered on the last word, and tears streamed down his cheeks. The guilt he carried inside of him flared up and made his skin burn with shame.

  “I haven’t been happy, Clare. I haven’t. I haven’t ever let myself be happy. And I know—I know you would want me to let go, but I can’t. I just can’t. I miss you so much and I’m sorry I hurt you. I wish I could go back and live through it again. I would—”

  He stopped. He thought of what he would say—that he would never have tried to woo her, never taken her away from her life and put her in a place where she would die so meaninglessly. But that wasn’t right. He couldn’t erase the past like that. Every beautiful moment spent with Clare taken away? No. No. He did not know what he wanted, but it was not that.

  As he opened his eyes he realized his tears had stopped. His fingers moved over the letters of her name and he whispered to himself.

  “You’re right, Clare. As always.”

  There was nothing he could do now, nothing that would reverse the chain of motion that led to her death. There was only the here and now, a sunny day that she could not see. He looked down to the bouquet of roses. He had clutched the stems too tightly, and the thorns had pierced his hand. He opened his hand slowly, watching the beads of red appear in the punctures. He was alive, this proved it. The ache that shot through his hand as he flexed it open proved it. He breathed slowly and let the pain ride through his body, his palm throbbing with his heartbeat. Blood smeared the petals of the roses, red on white. They looked beautiful, like the hybrid varieties that bloomed at this time of the year in the gardens of his estate.

  She would never come back, and he would have to keep on living.

  He stood, and placed the blood-smeared roses on top of the stone carefully, smoothing the petals. He bent down to wipe his hand on the dew of the grass. The blades of grass were wet and cold, and his fingers grew chilly as he wiped his wounds clean. He pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips, then to the stone.

  “Goodbye, Clare. I love you always.”

  He felt love surge through him, and he was crying again, softly, for he knew that the love would stay with him even though he must leave her there, dead in the ground. He closed the wrought iron gate behind him and turned to leave the cemetery. Looking up, he saw Brynn standing in the path ahead of him, looking back.

  The sunlight haloed her hair, tinging it red, and for a moment Eliot thought he would see Clare again. Then he blinked hard and there was only Brynn, nobody else.

  “Hello, Eliot,” she said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Thought is only a flash between two long nights, but this flash is everything.” - Poincare

  I had gone back to visit my mother every weekend with the small amount of free time I had. I talked with her, told her about the work I was doing. Inevitably I would tell her about Eliot. If he had come to lecture, I would tell her about what he had said, how he had looked at me. If not, I told her about how much I missed him. In this new country, I did not want to find my heart stolen away, but my attraction to Eliot was harmless. He would never love me, so he was safe to love. I told my mother that I would find romance when I returned home in a few weeks.

  The sunny morning I visited her, I again left half of my bouquet at Clare’s grave, as I had each week, replacing the wilted flowers from the time before. Here I simply left the bouquet—I had nothing to say to Eliot’s dead wife. When I returned from visiting with my mother, however, I saw someone kneeling inside of the Herceg family plot. I stepped forward, curious despite myself, and Eliot turned to see me standing there. His eyes were red with tears, but his face looked somehow happier, less anguished. He looked like he was glad to see me.

  “Hello, Eliot,” I said.

  He smiled and stepped forward. I inhaled as he bent to kiss me warmly on the cheek. His chin, unshaven, scratched my cheek slightly, and when his hot lips pressed against my cheek I wanted to throw my arms around him. I thought that I was safe, but his touch set my body aflame in just seconds. He kissed me again on the other cheek, and then pulled back.

  “Will you let me buy you a coffee?” Eliot said. “I believe I owe you one.”

  He owed me nothing, but I said yes and walked with him to the cafe a few blocks away. We ordered our coffees and took them down to the river to sit on a bench beside the Danube. The ice had cracked apart, and only small chunks of frost still clung to the riverbanks. All the rest had been swept out to sea by the currents of the river.

  “How have you been, Brynn?” Eliot spoke kindly, and I felt myself drawn close to his kindness.

  “Fine,” I said, meaning a hundred other things. “We figured out another piece of the algorithm yesterday. You told us to try and simplify the projective matrix, but I think that it’s easier to simplify the result after it’s been applied—”

  “I didn’t mean the work,” Eliot said. Unspoken words hung in the air between us. My heart wrenched as I watched his eyes track the eddies in the river, and I felt a mixture of anger and longing race through my body.

  “Are you and that boy...”

  “No.” I spoke too quickly, and Eliot turned toward me with the question still lingering in his eyes. “There’s nothing between us.”

  Eliot put his hand on mine. I wanted to cry out with joy, but I also wanted to tear my hand away. Do you know what you’re doing to me? I screamed inside. Don’t make me love you again. My mind raced ahead with images of Eliot kissing me, embracing me, peeling off my clothes slowly.

  “Brynn. I would not stand between you and happiness.” His fingers curled over mine, and I choked on my words.

  “It wouldn’t be happiness. I don’t want that with him. I want...”

  Eliot paused, waiting. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t. I never wanted anything. Or, at least, I never admitted to wanting anything. That was just how I grew up. If I didn't want anything, I couldn't be poor. This was the first time in a long time that my desires had become so apparent.

  “What is it, Brynn?”

  “You.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I want y
ou.”

  Eliot withdrew his hand, and I immediately knew that I had made an error. My eyes blurred with tears and I bent my head down, staring at my hands. Pretending that I hadn’t said anything, and willing back the urge to sob.

  “I’m going to go back to America, Brynn.”

  My head snapped up.

  “You can’t! What about the internship?” The problem. We couldn’t solve the problem if Eliot left. And I couldn’t stand to live here with just Mark and the other interns. I didn’t want to be here without Eliot.

  “I supervised it remotely before.” Eliot’s voice was calm, too calm. I felt the tension hiding underneath the stillness of his surface. “I can do it again.”

  “But we’re so close to the end.”

  “There are still a few weeks left.” Eliot’s words were patient, but I could not be consoled.

  “I mean the problem. We’re so close, and you’re leaving?”

  “I appreciate your optimism, Brynn, but even with the work you’ve accomplished, we’re not close to a general solution.”

  “How can we get it if you leave?” I turned squarely to him and took his hands in mine, squeezing tightly. The only person I cared for, and he was leaving me. Suddenly I found a newfound determination. I couldn’t lose him. “Don’t.”

  “Brynn...”

  “Don’t. Don’t leave. Eliot.” He rose from the bench and I rose with him, still grasping his hand. I couldn’t let him fall away from me so easily.

  “Brynn, I can’t—”

  “You can’t leave. Please.” I tilted my head up to look him straight in the eyes, and something in his expression softened. “Please?”

  I could not have guessed what he would do next. Standing there on the bank of the Danube, he pulled me to his chest and bent his head down. His lips were hot on mine, and I could feel dampness on his cheeks. A flash of heat struck through my nerves, and I clutched at his arms, pushing back into his kiss with a wild insistence. Eliot met my passion with his own, pressing kiss after kiss onto my lips until I was breathless with want.

  The first time Eliot kissed me he felt soft, gentle. Not now. Now he pressed his lips hard against mine, his arms crushing me into his chest. It was as though his body echoed my frustrations, my desires, my needs. Eyes closed, I saw nothing but flashes of white light, like snowflakes dancing on the lids of my eyes in the darkness. When he pulled away he cradled my face in his hands, his long fingers pressed to my skin and his eyes searched mine, for what I did not know.

  “Brynn. Believe me, I would not leave if I didn’t have to. But I can’t stay here.”

  My heart broke then, simply broke. I felt the crack go through the center and split me in two. The pure happiness that I had felt abandoned me as quickly as it had come.

  “Is it because of her?”

  Eliot’s dark eyelashes fluttered, downcast.

  “It’s too hard to explain, Brynn.”

  Too hard to explain? For hours on end Eliot would shove equations and algorithms into my brain, but one step into emotional territory and he fled, abandoning ship. Too hard to explain? I did not know how to respond. My mouth was dry.

  “What about Lucky?” I thought about the kitten still at Eliot’s house. Already my desires were hidden from me. I would shut them up, lock them away, keep them secret and hidden until I forgot about them. Still I cared about the orphan kitten—if not me, then who else? If I could not achieve happiness for myself, I could at least protect the one helpless animal that had come to depend on me. “What will happen to him?”

  “Marta has found a good place for him. With some friends in another city. They’re coming by in a few days. I’ll take care of him until then, and after that I’ll be leaving.”

  “Can I say goodbye?” I looked up at Eliot, a deeper meaning in my words. He averted his eyes.

  “Of course,” he said, having the decency to flush red at his collar. “Of course you can say goodbye.”

  Eliot paced in the entryway of his house, waiting for Brynn. Foolishly, he had agreed to let her come to see the cat one last time before Marta’s friends took it away. He could not but think that he should be gone from the house to avoid any mishaps, but of course Brynn wasn’t just coming to see Lucky.

  The knock echoed through the emptiness of the house. Eliot set his mouth into a thin smile and opened the door.

  Brynn stood outside in a red wool coat, her hands clasped in front of her in gloves, her hair tied up neatly in a bun. The cab pulled off down the driveway, and Eliot watched as the tires made fresh dark tracks in the morning snowfall. Although technically it had been spring for weeks already, Nature had other ideas in mind for that day. A cold front had plummeted the temperatures in Budapest close to freezing, and the clouds which would normally have rained spring showers had instead turned the ground white with a fresh blanket of snow. Brynn wiped the slush off of her boots before stepping in carefully. Her expression was wary as he leaned forward and kissed her on one cheek in greeting, then the other. Her lips did not so much as brush his skin, and he felt her harden under his touch.

  He took her coat from her to hang up, and could not help but stare at what she was wearing underneath—a bright red dress with cap sleeves, low-cut. She looked gorgeous, and immediately he was ashamed of his own state of dress—he was barefoot, in a stained shirt and the wrinkled dress pants he had worn the night before. He looked a mess.

  “The girls are going out dancing tonight,” Brynn said, in response to his glance. “I thought I’d get dressed before coming over.”

  “Is that one of the dresses Marta picked for you?”

  Brynn nodded.

  “It suits you well,” Eliot said. Well was an understatement. The dress was stunning, a perfect fit to show off Brynn’s curves. The bright red color contrasted with her alabaster skin and her reddened cheeks, made bright by the cold outside, only added to the effect. He yanked his gaze away from her figure.

  “It’s cold out here,” she said. “Even colder than in the city.”

  “We’re up higher in the mountains,” Eliot said. “The snow is actually staying on the ground.”

  “I wish it wouldn’t melt down where we are,” Brynn said. “I’d like to have one walk through the garden again.” Her words stopped abruptly, as though she had just reminded herself of the memory with her and Eliot.

  “Marta will be coming by later,” Eliot said, and the topic was mercifully changed back to Lucky’s fate in the hand of Marta’s friends.

  They walked back into the kitchen, where Lucky sat contentedly on the counter top. Eliot had given up trying to keep the damn thing off of the tables, but it was beyond him to admit that he enjoyed sharing the last of his milk with the small kitten.

  “He’s grown bigger,” Brynn said with a touch of pride, as she petted the kitten’s newly silken coat. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

  “He’ll be happy at his new home, I’m sure,” Eliot said.

  “I’m sure he will,” Brynn said, her eyes sorrowful. She turned back to Eliot. “And what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Will you be happy back in America?”

  Eliot stared at Brynn. She had struck to the heart of the matter. Eliot didn’t know if he could be happy anywhere. The few glimpses of happiness he had seen in the last few years had been with Brynn.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ll have my work.”

  “Your work is here with your students,” Brynn said, slightly admonishing.

  “Of course,” he said, moving over to the kitten to stroke its head. Lucky purred. “But there is something to be said for solitude in making progress on these things.”

  “Really?”

  Eliot did not know what to say. She was right, of course. The best part of his work had been done here.

  “I can’t stay, Brynn.”

  To his surprise, she began to cry. He put his hands on her arms, trying to comfort her.

  “I only wanted to come here to se
e my mother,” Brynn said. “I didn’t care about the prize, I didn’t care about this stupid problem. I didn’t care about you!” She stared up into his face, her eyes flashing darkly in anger.

  “Brynn, I’m so sorry,” Eliot said. “But you’ve made so much progress on this problem.”

  “I didn’t want any of it,” Brynn said, her words catching on her sobs. Eliot pulled her towards him and she balled her fists against his chest.

  “I’m so proud of you. You’ve done so much—”

  “It’s not enough!” Brynn’s head tilted back, her eyes wet with tears. “Why did you kiss me?”

  Eliot’s heart sank. He couldn’t explain what had drawn him toward her the last time they had met. Pure desire and lack of willpower. Her beautiful face had turned up to his, just like it was now. He felt himself falling back under her spell even now as they stood so close to each other.

  “It was a mistake,” he said lamely.

  “That’s what you said before!” Brynn pulled away angrily. “That it was just a mistake!”

  “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Everything isn’t a mistake!” She was furious, her brows slanted angrily above her stormy eyes, and he thought she had never looked so beautiful. “Some things happen for a reason.”

  “I was weak,” Eliot said. “You’re a very lovely girl...”

  “That’s it, then? You’re so weak you have to run away from me, leave the country, leave everything here?” Brynn’s voice filled with rage. “I can’t believe it.”

  “You’re right,” Eliot said. “I should never have come back.”

  “No. You should have come back years ago. You should never have left.” Brynn wiped her tears from her face, crying through her words. “You’re not weak, you’re stupid.”

  Eliot was speechless, and Brynn continued to lash out, turning toward the window.

  “Look at this. All of this. It’s so beautiful. And you gave it up—why? So that you wouldn’t have to face her death?”

  “Brynn—”

  “I waited for years to be able to come here,” Brynn said. Her lip quivered as she looked out at the grounds of the estate. The lawn was still covered in a frosting of snow. “I didn’t want anything but to see my mom.”