Mr. Rich

by Virna DePaul

  “What am I supposed to say? ‘Professor Macintosh wanted to sleep with me and when I refused he told me I was a hack and spread rumors that I offered him sexual favors for a better grade’? I have no proof. Hell, even the way he propositioned me was more implication than blatant invitation.” I begin rolling up the piece of paper in my hand, irritated beyond measure. “So great advice, Kev. Maybe I should name every person at that frat party who was mean to me, too?”

  He just rolls his eyes. “You’re so fucking dramatic, and I’m the most dramatic person in the history of the universe. I’m not saying you need a memoir describing every detail of what happened. But you have to explain why you left. Don’t name names, but you can talk about bullying, rumors, not feeling like you fit in, having doubts about your talent. That kind of stuff. Be honest that you made a mistake by giving up on your dream and that you want to make things right. If they don’t respect that, then fuck them.”

  I clench the ball of paper tight in my first. I don’t mention to Kevin that I’d lied: this isn’t my first draft. It’s my fifth, and I’d kept rewriting it, trying to make it better. But instead, each draft felt progressively worse, until it was like I’d shaved it down to useless crumbs.

  Sitting down the following Saturday morning, I begin typing. My heart’s pounding, as if I’m about to be placed in a courtroom for judgment, but as the words flow from my fingers, my anxiety begins to depart. It’s as though my subconscious had known all along that I needed to be honest, but it was only after I began that the burden started to lift away.

  I write the essay in two hours. By the time I’m done, I’m sweating and my heart’s about to pound out of my chest, but it’s a good feeling. While it’s a mixture of anxiety and anticipation, I also feel like I can take a deep breath again. I read over my words. They scare me, don’t get me wrong, but Kevin was right: I have to be honest. I print out a copy and take it with me the next day to Cooper’s.

  I show it to him at lunch, and he goes quiet. His eyes are roving the page, and I’m so antsy I have to get up and walk around. I packed myself a salad, but I can’t touch a bite. Every time I get nervous, my appetite goes out the window.

  After what seems like an eternity, Kevin still hasn’t said anything. I’m about to stomp my foot like a little kid and demand he respond, when he gets up and enfolds me in a big hug.

  “This is exactly what I meant,” he says, the paper crinkling against my back. “If they don’t let you in now, they’re idiots.”

  I slump in relief, then return the hug. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

  We hug a few seconds longer. Kevin hands me back the essay, but then says in a light voice, “You misspelled commitment, by the way.”

  I squawk, see that he’s right, and say, “Thank you, Kevin. For reading my letter. And for being my friend.”

  “Ditto, Julia.”

  —

  By early November, I’m ready to submit my application. I apply to a few safety schools, but my first choice is the college that I left; I checked and Professor Macintosh is still on staff, but that just makes me more determined to face my past. Putting together all of my application materials—transcripts, essay, test scores, letters of recommendation—I can hardly believe I’m doing this. But it also feels like this was a long time coming. I’m applying for the spring semester, and I should have a response by mid-December. My hands trembling while I sit at my computer, I hit “submit” and then take a deep breath.

  Now all I can do is wait and try not to dwell on what could—or could not—happen.

  In the meantime, I start looking for a new job, or maybe an internship. I can’t keep working at Cooper’s. It may pay the bills, but I feel like I’m wasting my life handing out samples. And if I’m going back to school, I might as well continue making as many changes as I can in my life, right?

  As I try to go to sleep that night after reapplying to schools, Bastian dominates my thoughts. Would he be proud of me if he knew I’d applied to return to college? Sometimes I want to call him and tell him what I’ve done, prove to him I’m not the pathetic woman he thought I was, but then I decide that it wouldn’t help anything. He’s the one who broke things off, anyway. I’m not going to beg him to take me back.

  I tell myself my pride will keep me warm at night, but that doesn’t stop me from longing for Bastian’s embrace when I’m cold and alone in my bed.

  Chapter 25

  Bastian

  I usually love this time of year: the leaves changing, the crisp air, hell, even the pumpkin spice everything. But this year, the leaves seem dull and I can’t even think about drinking some overly sweet pumpkin spice latte without wanting to toss it into the nearest trash can. Julia had always talked about how much she loved fall, and that’s all I can think about now.

  Standing at my office window, sipping a very black cup of coffee, I realize that I haven’t seen Julia in three months. Three long, solitary months, and even though I haven’t had a major relapse since that time Julia cared for me, something my doctor attributes to the new medication I’m taking, I feel thoroughly run-down.

  I’d never been the type to mope over a woman, but by God, have I been moping. I see her everywhere, and it drives me crazy. I see her every time I go into my garage and see my motorcycles, and even though I’ve got the Harley completely up and running now, I refuse to take it or my Ducati out for a ride. I want the next time I ride one of those bikes to be when Julia in on the back with me, yet I’ve ensured that is never going to happen.

  I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. I know that now.

  I want Julia back.

  But how can I make things right when I fucked up so badly? I’d told her she was a coward and that I couldn’t be with her. I wince, remembering. I knew I could be a dick, but that definitely was my shining moment of dick-dom.

  Lucian knocks and comes into my office. We finally got everything with Ryland Masters worked out, although it was a hell of a fight. While Ryland will never be my greatest fan, we’ve come to a mutual—and grudging—kind of respect. I told him he should invest his money how he saw fit, but that if I gave him enough proof that a deal would be a bad idea, he should at least listen to me. Luckily, Ryland’s friend’s business has since taken off, and the return on Ryland’s investment has made all of us happy. Money tends to do that, I’ve found.

  “Going to join us for the staff meeting?” Lucian asks, coming up next to me to gaze out the window.

  “In a second.”

  We don’t say anything for a while, but just look at the street below. I watch as a mother pushes her young child in a stroller, a big, fluffy dog at their side. I see an older man jogging, and two teenagers probably playing hooky. When I spot a woman with dark blond hair, my heart stops. But it isn’t Julia. It never is.

  “How long are you going to keep doing this?” Lucian’s voice is quiet.

  I don’t look at him, but I know exactly what he means. He hasn’t talked much about me and Julia, but he knows what happened. Part of me wants to ignore his question, while the other part wants him to tell me I’m an ass and I need to get her back.

  I’ve never been this at odds with myself, and I have to say, I hate it.

  “You’re miserable, man,” Lucian continues. “I’ve never seen you like this, and I’ve seen you knocked on your ass when you’re sick. But this is different. You’re like a shell of your former self.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Hey, you know I’m all about honesty. I thought maybe you’d move on, but if anything, you’ve moved backward. Just how long are you going to beat yourself up about what you did instead of making things right?”

  I swallow a mouthful of hot coffee. It burns my tongue. “How can I make things right?” I ask quietly. “You should’ve seen her face, Lucian.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you pissed her off and she’d love to push you off a cliff. But if you love her, you fight for her.” He looks at me, and I finally meet his gaze. “You don’t
just sit around crying about it,” he adds.

  I know he’s right. I have been just sitting around, feeling sorry for myself. I take another sip of coffee. “What do I even say to her?”

  “That you’re fucking sorry, for one. Don’t make excuses, don’t try to sound like she was wrong for getting mad. Just say you’re sorry and you messed up.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “You won’t necessarily get her back on your good side, but an apology—a sincere one—is your best bet.”

  I think about Lucian’s words throughout the day and into the evening. I think about them for the rest of the week, until by Friday, I’m determined to tell Julia how sorry I am for what I said. But mostly to tell her I was wrong. That I want her back. If she’ll only give me that chance.

  I drive over to Cooper’s Friday afternoon, which I know is generally when Julia has a shift. It’s mid-December, and we’ve had snow recently. The sky, gray and hazy, looks like it may snow again, but even if I get stuck at Cooper’s under a foot of snow, I don’t care. I glance around for Julia’s car or bike, but I see neither. Going inside the store, I stomp off the wet snow stuck to my boots and begin walking toward the vitamin section. My heart is pounding so fast and I’m sweating so much that I’m about to strip out of my scarf and coat.

  But as I get to the sample stand where Julia normally works, I instead see a guy I’ve never seen before. I frown. Maybe Julia works at a different stand now? I begin to look around Cooper’s, checking out every stand scattered throughout, but no Julia. Is she not scheduled today? Or maybe she’s sick? I hate to think she’s home alone and ill, and I’m about to get in my car and go to her place when I run into a young guy with perfectly gelled hair wearing a pink scarf over his Cooper’s uniform.

  “You!” he exclaims, like he’s just come face to face with his mother’s killer.

  I frown even harder. “Can I help you?”

  “Why are you here? If you’re looking for Julia, she’s not here.” The guy sniffs and tries to step around me.

  But he knows where Julia is! I catch his sleeve; he gives me a look like I’m the lowliest of insects. “Where is Julia? Is she sick? I need to talk to her.”

  He sniffs again. I then notice his name tag says KEVIN and I remember Julia mentioning her best friend was named Kevin more than once.

  “Look, I need to talk to her,” I say. “In person. I tried calling her, but she’s changed her phone number. I could go to her place, but that seems presumptuous.” I stop talking, realizing that Kevin probably has no idea what I’m blathering about.

  But he just raises a plucked eyebrow at me. “Why do you want to talk to her?”

  I really don’t want to spill my guts, but he looks like he isn’t going to tell me anything unless I do. I run a hand through my hair.

  “I need to apologize, okay? Do you know where she is? Or I’ll just go to her place.”

  I begin to walk off when Kevin doesn’t respond, but he stops me.

  “Hey, wait,” he says. I stop. “She doesn’t work here anymore.”

  At that, I turn. “She doesn’t work at Cooper’s anymore?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope. She quit earlier this month. She’s going back to school and has an internship starting after the New Year.” He smiles a little sadly. “I’m going to miss her, but I’m really happy for her.”

  My heart starts pounding again. Julia’s going back to school? I think back to what I said to her that day, and I’m torn between pride and guilt. Is she going back just to prove that I was wrong? I hope not. I hope she’s going because she felt like it was the right thing to do.

  I’m about to leave again when Kevin says, “She’s not at home right now. She’s normally at a café called Irwin’s in the afternoons.” He rocks back on his heels, fiddling with his scarf. “Don’t tell her I told you that, okay?”

  I’m about to embrace Kevin, but instead I hold out my hand. He shakes it. “Thanks, man,” I say.

  I’m walking away, when I realize that I recognized Kevin as the guy who was taking photos of my ass months ago. Looking over my shoulder, I say, “I hope you enjoyed those photos you took of me. Let me know if you need any more.”

  He blushes scarlet and then scuttles off, but I’m laughing. I don’t care how many photos Kevin took of my ass; I’m going to find Julia. I’m going to tell her how sorry I am, and how much I love her, and how proud I am of her.

  When I get back into my car, blasting the heat, I also realize that if anyone had been a coward, it was me, not Julia. She had been afraid of going back to school, yes, but for a legitimate reason. Me, on the other hand? I was afraid of falling for someone because I didn’t want to burden her, yes, but when it came down to it, my biggest fear was that I’d come to depend on her—not to care for me physically, but to love me, in all the ways that encompasses—and she’d dump me after she decided I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. I’d pushed Julia away even though she’d shown me from the beginning that she wasn’t that type of person. My fears had been based on nothing except my own insecurities.

  Lucian was right: I had fucked up royally. And now was my chance to make things right. Getting my phone out, I search for Irwin’s and get the address. I wonder if Julia will even talk to me. What if she tells me to go to hell? But it doesn’t matter. I have to try. Sitting around, feeling sorry for myself, isn’t going to make things better.

  I park outside Irwin’s as snow starts to fall, and when I see Julia’s car nearby, my heart soars. I enter the quaint little coffee shop, which is still bustling despite the weather, and spot her immediately. She’s sitting in a corner, headphones on, working on something intently. She looks beautiful: her hair in a topknot, wearing a pretty red sweater with sparkly earrings, she looks like a Christmas present I want to unwrap.

  I stare at her for a few moments, simply drinking her in.

  Chapter 26

  Julia

  I glance at the time on my laptop: 6:30. I sigh, looking at the document in front of me. After getting accepted to a prestigious internship with one of my favorite composers, I now have to research different types of music before the internship even begins. I enjoy the work and it’s beyond exciting to get back into the groove of things, but I’m exhausted.

  After I put in my two weeks’ notice at Cooper’s, She-Hulk would barely speak to me. She took my leaving as some kind of slight against her, and if I did anything wrong, she gave me the scariest glare. But to my astonishment, she was also the person who planned my going-away party, and she even shed a few tears during it! Go figure. I gave her an awkward hug and told her to keep in touch, even though I sincerely hope she forgets to text me because having coffee with She-Hulk sounds miserable.

  But none of that matters when I remember that I’m going back to school. The music college called me only two weeks after I submitted my application—two weeks! They gave me a full scholarship and everything.

  After that, I’d applied for the internship, and everything seems so perfect that I still can’t believe it’s all come together. I must admit, I’m kind of waiting for the rug to be pulled out from underneath me, but I’m trying to stay positive. Anytime I have doubts, Kevin yells at me and tells me that if I end up coming back to Cooper’s, he’ll shave my eyebrows off in my sleep.

  Kevin’s crazy enough to do that, too.

  Now I’m debating on whether or not I want more coffee, or if I want to call it a day. An extra-hot cappuccino sounds fantastic. But before I do anything, I glance up from my laptop and see the last person I ever thought would come to this coffeehouse.

  Bastian.

  He’s standing only a few feet from me, wearing a well-cut coat and expensive scarf, snowflakes dotting his dark hair. He looks the same, but also different. He’s not tired like he was when I last saw him, but he seems like he hasn’t been happy, either. My heart constricts so hard I can barely breathe. I slowly take my headphones from my ears and I’m so tongue-tied that I just stare at him.

  Eventually, I e
nd up blurting out the first thing that comes to mind: “What are you doing here?”

  He gazes at me, his eyes dark and relentless. I feel like they’re tunneling straight through me, right into my very soul, and I don’t know how to react. He hurt me so badly, but now he’s back? I don’t know how to feel about this. I’m torn between happiness at seeing him and anger that he dared to come find me. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence?

  He doesn’t sit down. Instead, he looks at me and says in a blunt voice, “I want you back, Julia.”

  I blink. I see that there are a few people staring, and I’m about to tell Bastian to sit down when he pulls out a chair and sits. He seems nervous, but then again, he wasn’t too nervous to say something as ballsy as “I want you back.”

  I shut my laptop, trying to figure out what to say. Part of me would like to toss his coffee in his face, while another part of me is shaking with joy. God, am I that easy? He doesn’t even apologize, he just says he wants me back, and I’m ready to throw myself into his arms?

  I have to get out of here. I begin stuffing my things into my bag, not caring that I’m messing up papers or getting cords tangled.

  “Did you hear me?” he asks. “I want you back. I’ve missed you, more than I could ever have imagined.”

  I zip up my bag and yank my scarf from where it’s hanging over my chair. I look for my coat, then remember I hung it up near the front. “That’s nice. But I’m not interested.” I grab my stuff and start to walk out.

  How dare he come here like this and act like he did nothing wrong? What kind of arrogant, selfish, douchebag kind of bullshit—

  “Julia! Wait!”

  He grabs my arm as we reach the door of the coffeehouse. I realize I’ve forgotten my coat, so I shrug off his hand and take my peacoat down from the coatrack. There are a few people watching us, and I just want to get away. When Bastian doesn’t leave, I turn to him and say in a low voice, “Leave me alone, okay? Just leave me alone. You already broke my heart once. I have no intention of letting you do it a second time.”