But Julia didn’t want to be keyed.
“Please.” He took her pale hand in his and gently opened her fingers. He felt her hesitate, and so he ran his thumb across the back of her hand just to reassure her. He pressed the key and the paper into her palm and closed her fingers, taking great care not to press too hard lest he bruise her. He knew that Emerson had bruised her enough.
“Real isn’t what you are; it’s something that happens. And right now, you need something good to happen to you.”
Julia started at his words, for he had no idea how true they were.
Is he paraphrasing from…? Impossible.
She looked up into his eyes. They were warm and friendly. She didn’t see anything calculating or crude. She didn’t see anything underhanded or harsh. Maybe he truly liked her. Or maybe he simply felt sorry for her. Whatever his mysterious motivations, in that instant Julia chose to believe that the universe was not entirely dark and disappointing and that there were still vestiges of goodness and virtue, and so she accepted the key with a bowed head.
“Don’t cry, little Rabbit.”
Paul reached out to stroke away a tear that had not yet fallen. But he thought better of it and placed his hand at his side.
Julia turned away, ashamed of the sudden and intense rush of emotions she was having, over being keyed of all things, and having him cite beloved children’s literature to her. As she frantically looked for something, anything, to distract herself, her eyes alighted on a CD that was sitting by its lonesome on one of the bookshelves. She picked it up. Mozart’s Requiem.
“Do you like Mozart?” she asked, turning the jewel case over in her hand.
Paul averted his eyes.
She was surprised. She moved as if to put the CD case back, worried she had embarrassed him by going through his personal effects, but he stopped her.
“It’s all right, you can look at it. But it’s not mine. It’s Emerson’s.”
Once again, Julia felt cold all over and slightly sick.
Paul saw her reaction this time and started speaking very quickly. “Don’t tell anyone, but I stole it.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“I know—it’s terrible. But he was playing one track from the damn thing over and over and over again in his office, while I was cataloging part of his personal library. Lacrimosa, lacrimosa, lacri-fuckin’-mosa. I couldn’t take it anymore! It’s so damned depressing. So I stole it from his office and hid it here. Problem solved.”
Julia laughed. She closed her eyes and laughed.
He smiled with relief at her reaction.
“You didn’t do a very good job of hiding it. I found it in what, thirty seconds?” She giggled and tried to hand him the CD.
He cautiously pushed her long hair back behind her shoulders so he could have an unobstructed view of her face. “Why don’t you hide it at your place, instead?”
Instinctively, she stiffened and took a step backward.
Paul watched her head go down and her teeth clamp onto her lower lip. He wondered what he’d done…should he not have touched her? Was she worried that Emerson would find out she had his CD?
“Julia?” His voice was quiet, and he made no move toward her. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
“No. It’s nothing.” She glanced at him nervously and placed the CD on the shelf. “I love Mozart’s Requiem, and Lacrimosa is my favorite part. I didn’t know he liked it too. I’m just…um…surprised.”
“Borrow it.” He placed it in her hand. “If Emerson asks, I’ll say I have it. But at least if you borrow it you can upload it to your iPod and give it back to me on Monday.”
Julia looked at the CD. “I don’t know…”
“I’ve had it all week, and he hasn’t been looking for it. Maybe his mood has shifted. He started listening to it after he got home from Philadelphia. Not sure why…”
Julia impulsively slid the CD into her decrepit knapsack. “Thanks.”
He smiled. “Anything for you, Julia.”
He wanted to hold her hand. Or at least to squeeze it for an instant. But she was skittish, he could see, and so he gave her a wide berth as he led her into the hallway so that he could continue giving her a tour of the library.
“Uh, the Toronto Film Festival is on this weekend. I have a couple of tickets to some films on Saturday. Would you like to join me?” He tried to sound casual as he led her to the elevators.
“What films?”
“One is French and the other is German. I prefer European films.” He smiled half-heartedly. “I could trade the tickets for something more local…”
Julia shook her head. “I like European films too. As long as they’re subtitled. My French is almost non-existent, and I only know how to swear in German.”
Paul pressed the button for the elevator and turning, gave her a very long, very studious look. Then he grinned mischievously. “You can swear in German? How did you come by that?”
“I lived in the International House at Saint Joseph’s. One of the exchange students was from Frankfurt, and she really liked to swear—a lot. By the end of the semester, we were all swearing in German. It was kind of a res hall thing.” She turned a light shade of pink and shuffled her sneakers.
Julia knew that Paul was a doctoral student, which meant that he’d already taken language courses in French and in German, in all probability. No doubt he would make fun of her amateur linguistic skills, as Christa had after a seminar. She waited for a snide remark or a dismissive wave of the hand.
But he only smiled and held the elevator door open for her. “My German is terrible. Maybe you can teach me to swear in it—that would be an improvement.”
Julia turned to him and smiled back. Widely this time. “Maybe. And I’d like to go to the movies with you on Saturday. Thanks for inviting me.”
“No problem.”
He was pleased with himself. The lovely Julia was coming to the Film Festival with him, and afterward, there would be dinner. He had yet to introduce her to his favorite Indian restaurant. Or perhaps he should do that tonight and take her to Chinatown after the double feature. Then he would take her to Greg’s for homemade ice cream…and invite her to accompany him to the Art Gallery of Ontario to see Frank Gehry’s architectural addition next weekend.
As they continued their tour, Paul resolved in his heart to be patient. Very, very patient. And cautious, whenever he reached out a tentative hand to offer her a carrot or to gently stroke her soft fur with his fingers. Or else he knew he would frighten Rabbit away, and he wouldn’t have the opportunity to help her become Real.
***
The next morning Julia sat on her narrow bed with her old laptop, working on her thesis proposal and listening to Mozart. Professor Emerson’s choice of music surprised her. How could he go from listening to Nine Inch Nails to this? Was he only listening to it because of Grace? Or was there some other reason he was torturing himself by repeating the same depressing track over and over again?
Julia closed her eyes and concentrated on the words to Lacrimosa, sung loudly and hauntingly by the multi-voice choir in Latin…
Day of Weeping,
on which will rise from ashes guilty man for judgment.
So have mercy, O Lord, on this man.
Compassionate Lord Jesus, grant them rest.
Amen.
What is wrong with Gabriel that he listens to this over and over again? And what does it say about me that I can’t help but feel close to him when I listen to it? All I’ve done is replace his photograph with his cd—I’m just not sleeping with it under my pillow.
I am one sick puppy.
Julia shook her head and tried to concentrate on her thesis proposal, distracting herself from the sound of classical weeping with thoughts of Paul and the previous day’s activities.
He’d been very helpful. In addition to giving her a key to The Professor’s carrel, he’d offered advice about how best to structure her thesis proposal, and he’d made her
laugh more than once—more than she had laughed in a very, very long time. He was a gentleman; he opened doors and carried her ugly, heavy knapsack. He was chivalrous, and Julia could not help but like him. It was nice to be around someone who was both handsome and sweet—an oft overlooked and frequently rare combination. She was grateful for his guidance, as well. For truly, who better than Virgil, who had shepherded Dante through the Inferno, to guide her through her thesis proposal?
She wanted her proposal to impress Professor Emerson, to make him realize that she was a capable student and somewhat intelligent. Even then she knew he would likely disagree with her on both points, no matter what Professor Greg Matthews of Harvard had said about her. And she’d be lying if she said that she wasn’t trying to subliminally jar Emerson into remembering her.
She wondered what was worse—that Gabriel had forgotten her? Or that Gabriel had become Professor Emerson? Julia was sickened by the second arm of the disjunction, and so she refused to even consider it—much. She would far rather Gabriel had forgotten her but remained the sweet and tender man she kissed in the old orchard, than for him to become Professor Emerson, with all of his vices, and still remember her.
Julia’s thesis proposal was straightforward. She was interested in a comparison between the courtly love manifested in the chaste relationship between Dante and Beatrice, and the passionate lust manifested in the adulterous relationship between Paolo and Francesca, two characters Dante placed in the circle of the lustful in The Inferno. Julia wanted to discuss the virtues and drawbacks of chastity, a subject she had more than a passing interest in, and compare it with the subliminal eroticism of The Divine Comedy.
As she worked on her proposal, she found herself staring back and forth between Holiday’s painting, which hung over her bed, and a postcard with the image of Rodin’s sculpture The Kiss. Rodin had sculpted Paolo and Francesca in such a way that their lips weren’t touching; nevertheless, the sculpture was sensual and erotic, and Julia had not purchased a replica of it when she visited Musée Rodin in Paris because she found it too arousing. And too heartbreaking.
She had settled for a postcard and taped it to her wall.
In addition to her boulangerie and fromagerie French, she knew enough of the language to realize that the title of Rodin’s sculpture, Le Baiser in French, was part of its subversion. For baiser in French could mean either the innocence of a kiss or the animalistic quality of a fuck. One could say le baiser and refer to a kiss, but if one said, Baise-moi, one was begging to be fucked. Both innocence and begging were wrapped up in the embrace of these two lovers whose lips never touched: frozen together, yet separated for all eternity. Julia wanted to free them from their frozen embrace, and she secretly hoped her thesis would allow her to do so.
From time to time over the years, Julia had indulged herself in thinking about the old orchard behind the Clarks’ house, in reliving her first kiss with Gabriel and some of what came afterward, but mostly she did so in her dreams. She rarely, if ever, thought of the morning after and its tears and hysterics. It was far too painful a memory. It was a memory of betrayal she revisited only in her nightmares…and unfortunately for her, that was all too often. It was the reason she had never sought him out.
Just then, her cell phone rang, interrupting her homework.
“Hey, Julia. Do you have plans tonight?” It was Rachel. Julia could hear Gabriel talking gruffly in the background.
Immediately she hit the mute button on her computer so that he wouldn’t hear Mozart over the telephone. She waited with bated breath to see if he had heard…
“Julia? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
From the sounds of Gabriel’s muttering, Julia couldn’t tell if he was angry or simply complaining. Not that either behavior would have surprised her.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine. Um, no plans. No plans tonight.” Julia bit her lip as a wave of relief washed over her. He hadn’t heard the CD. Or so it seemed.
“Good. I want to go to a club.”
“Oh, come on. You know I hate those places. I can’t dance, and it’s always too loud.”
Rachel laughed heartily. “Funny you should say that. Gabriel said almost the same thing. Minus the dancing part. He thinks he can dance—he just refuses.”
Julia sat up very straight on her bed. “Gabriel would come with us?”
“I have to fly home in two days. He’s taking me somewhere nice for dinner, then I want to go to a club. He isn’t happy about it, but he didn’t say no. I thought it would be fun if you joined us after dinner. So how about it?”
Julia shut her eyes. “I’d love to, Rachel. But I don’t have anything to wear. Sorry.”
Rachel giggled. “Wear a little black dress. Something simple. I’m sure you own something that would work.”
At that instant, the doorbell rang, interrupting the call.
“Hang on, Rachel, someone is at my door.” Julia walked out into the hall, noticing a deliveryman standing outside the front door to the building.
She opened the door. “Yes?”
“Delivery for Julia Mitchell. You her?”
She nodded and signed for what turned out to be a very large rectangular parcel.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, sticking the parcel under her arm and shifting her cell phone to her ear. “Rachel, you still there?”
Rachel sounded as if she was laughing. “Yes. What was that?”
“Some kind of delivery. For me.”
“Well, what is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s a big box.”
“Open it.”
Julia locked her apartment door behind her and put the box on her bed. She propped her phone between her ear and her shoulder so that she could still talk while she opened the package.
“The box has a label on it—Holt Renfrew. I don’t why someone would send me a present…Rachel, you didn’t!”
Julia could hear peals of laughter over the phone.
She opened the box and found a beautiful violet-colored, single-shouldered cocktail dress with crisscross panels. Julia didn’t recognize the name on the label, Badgley Mischka, but it was probably one of the most feminine dresses she’d ever seen.
Nestled in a shoebox next to the dress she discovered a pair of black patent leather Christian Louboutins. She looked incredulously at the red soles and the very high heels. The shoes had a pretty velvet bow on each toe, and Julia knew that they were probably worth about a month’s rent, at least. Tucked into the corner of the box, almost as an afterthought, was a small beaded handbag.
Julia felt momentarily like Cinderella.
“Do you like everything? The sales clerk put it all together. I just asked to look at purple dresses.” Julia could hear Rachel’s hesitance over the phone.
“It’s beautiful, Rachel. All of it. Wait a minute, how did you know what sizes to buy?”
“I didn’t. You looked as if you were the same size as you were in college, but I had to guess. So you’ll have to try the dress on and see if it fits.”
“But it’s too much. The shoes alone…I just can’t…”
“Julia, please. I’m so glad we’re friends again. Apart from running into you and being able to get close to Gabriel, nothing good has happened to me since my mom got sick. Please, don’t take this away from me too.”
Rachel really knows how to lay on a guilt trip.
Julia inhaled slowly. “I don’t know…”
“It’s not my money. It’s family money. Since Mom died…” Rachel trailed off, hoping that her friend would derive her own (erroneous) conclusion.
And that’s exactly what Julia did. “Your mom would have wanted you to spend her money on yourself.”
“She wanted everyone she loved to be happy, and that included you. And she didn’t have much of a chance to spoil you after…after what happened. I’m sure she knows we’re talking again and she’s smiling down on us. Make her happy for me, Julia.
”
Now she felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. And Rachel felt guilty for being so manipulative. Gabriel felt neither tears nor guilt and wished that the two girls would settle things already so that he could use his own damn telephone to make a call.
“Could I pay for part of it? Could I pay for the shoes—over time?”
Gabriel must have heard Julia, because she could hear his cursings and loud protestations in the background. He was muttering something about a mouse and a church. Whatever that meant.
“Gabriel! Let me handle this,” said Rachel.
Julia could hear bits and pieces of an argument that was brewing between the two siblings.
“If that’s what you want, that’s fine. (Gabriel, stop it.) But it’s our last night out together, and I want you to come with us. So wear it and join us, and we’ll work the money out later. Much later. Like when I’m back in Philadelphia. And living on social security.”
Julia sighed deeply and offered a silent prayer of thanks to Grace, who had always been good to her. “Thanks, Rachel. I owe you one. Again.”
Rachel squealed. “Gabriel! Julia is coming too!”
Julia held the phone away from her ear so she couldn’t hear her friend shrieking.
“Be ready around nine—we’ll pick you up at your place. Gabriel says he knows how to get there.”
“That’s pretty late, are you sure?’
“Please! Gabriel chose the club, and he says it doesn’t even open until nine. We’re going to be early as it is. Just spend some time getting ready, and we’ll see you tonight. You’re going to look hot!”
And with that Julia ended her phone call and began to admire her beautiful new dress. Rachel shared her mother’s generous and charitable spirit. It was too bad some of that spirit hadn’t rubbed off on Gabriel…
She wondered how she was ever going to be able to dance in those sexy and dangerous shoes. She contemplated the exciting and slightly frightening prospect of dancing with a certain Professor.
But Rachel said he doesn’t dance. Figures.
In a fit of inspiration, Julia walked over to her dresser and cautiously opened her underwear drawer. Without looking at the photograph that was hidden at the back, she quickly withdrew a small and sexy string of cloth that could charitably be termed underwear if and only if one thought that anything worn underneath one’s clothes counted as underwear.
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