Gabriel's Inferno 01 - Gabriel's Inferno

by Sylvain Reynard

  (One can only imagine Gabriel’s reaction to that suggestion, but it ran along the lines of no fucking way.)

  So on Sunday afternoon, Rachel arrived on Julia’s doorstep in order to have tea and say her good-byes before Gabriel took her to the airport.

  Julia was nervous. She had the cardinal virtue of fortitude, like a stubborn medieval saint, and so she was unlikely to mind various discomforts or slights. Consequently, she hadn’t thought her little hobbit hole was really that bad when she signed the lease. It was safe, and it was clean, and she could afford it. But believing that and showing her apartment to Rachel were two different things.

  “I need to warn you that it’s small. But remember, I’m living on a grad student’s income and it’s fixed. I can’t get a job up here because I don’t have a work permit. And I can’t afford to live in Gabriel’s building or anywhere even half as nice,” Julia explained as she ushered her friend into her apartment. Rachel nodded and placed a large square box on the bed.

  Gabriel had warned her how tiny the apartment was. He’d told her not to make a scene, for Gabriel still nursed a secret regret over his appalling behavior during his one and only visit to Julia’s apartment.

  But still, nothing her brother or her friend told her quite prepared Rachel for what she saw behind Julia’s closed door. The space was small, old, and everything in it was second-hand or cheap, apart from the simple curtains, bedding, and anything Julia had brought with her from home. To her credit, Rachel walked through the studio first, which only took about five steps, and looked at the closet, inspected the bathroom, and stood in the kitchen “area” looking at a pathetic little hot plate and an old decrepit microwave. Then she put her hands over her face and burst into tears.

  Julia stood rooted to the spot, not quite knowing what to do. Rachel was disturbed by ugliness, she knew, but Julia had tried to make her studio pretty and had used her favorite shades of purple to do so. Surely Rachel could appreciate that.

  Rachel came to herself a few moments later, wiping her tears and giggling.

  “I’m sorry. It’s hormones and lack of sleep, and I’ve been emotional because of Mom. Then there’s everything with my dad, and Aaron, and the wedding. Oh, Julia, I just wish I could take you home with me and you could live with us in Philadelphia. We have so much space. And our kitchen is bigger than your entire apartment!”

  Julia hugged her friend tightly until she cracked a smile.

  “Gabriel said you’re very particular about your tea. He was impressed with how you made it. And you know nothing ever impresses him. So I’m going to curl up on your lovely lilac bed and learn how you do it.” Rachel plopped herself down on top of Julia’s comforter, holding the large square box on her lap and trying to be cheerful for the sake of her friend.

  Julia was surprised that Gabriel even remembered the tea since he’d been so busy criticizing her eating habits during his visit. But she pushed such thoughts aside and focused her attention on making Rachel feel at home and helping her forget her troubles. Soon they were both perched on her bed, holding their china teacups and nibbling on chocolate truffles that Julia had purchased as a celebratory treat with part of her emergency fund.

  Rachel traced the rim of her cup with a single finger. “There’s something I need to tell you about Gabriel.”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  Rachel looked over at Julia and frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because he’s my professor. It’s—safer if we pretend not to know each other. Trust me.”

  Rachel shook her head. “He said something similar to me, you know. But I’m going to tell you what I told him, I don’t care. He’s my brother, and I love him. And there are a few things you should know.”

  Julia sighed in acquiescence.

  “He’d kill me if he knew that I was telling you this, but I think it will make his attitude easier to understand. Did Mom ever tell you how she came to adopt him?”

  “She only talked about happy things: how proud she was of him, how well he did at Princeton and Oxford. She never talked about his childhood.”

  “Mom found him when he was nine years old, wandering around the hospital in Sunbury. He’d been traveling with his mother, who was a crazy alcoholic, and she got sick. They ended up in Sunbury, and his mother died, of pneumonia I think. Anyway, Mom found Gabriel, and he didn’t have a dollar to his name. He couldn’t even buy a drink from the vending machine. She was even more upset when she tracked down his mother’s relatives and they told her to keep him. He knew that his family didn’t want him. And despite everything my parents did, I don’t think he ever felt at home with us. He never became a Clark.”

  Julia thought of Gabriel as a scared and hungry little boy and fought back tears. She imagined his eyes, large and blue in his pale but angelic face. His shock of brown hair spiked and unruly. Dirty clothes and a crazy mother. Julia knew what it was like to have an alcoholic mother. She knew what it was like to cry herself to sleep at night wishing someone, anyone, would love her. She and Gabriel had more in common than she cared to admit. Much, much more.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel. I didn’t know.”

  “I’m not excusing his rudeness. I’m just telling you who he is. Did you know that after his horrible fight with Scott, Mom lit a candle every night and placed it in one of the windows? She thought that if Gabriel happened to be in Selinsgrove and saw the candle, he would know that she was waiting for him, that she loved him, and he’d walk up the front steps and come in.”

  Julia shook her head. She hadn’t known that, but she believed it. That’s just who Grace was—charity unbound.

  “He pretends to be whole, but he’s been broken. And deep down, he hates himself. I told him to treat you nicely, so I think his behavior will improve. Let me know if it doesn’t and I’ll deal with him.”

  Julia snorted. “He ignores me, mostly. I’m a lowly grad student, and he doesn’t let me forget it.”

  “I find that difficult to believe. I doubt very much that he would stare so intensely at a ‘lowly’ grad student.”

  Julia busied herself with her chocolate. “He stares at me?” She was trying very hard to sound relaxed, but her voice sounded unnatural, shaky even.

  “He stares at you all the time. Haven’t you noticed? I caught him looking at you over dinner the other night and when we were at the club. Every time you took a drink, actually. And when I winked at him, he scowled.” Rachel looked at her friend thoughtfully. “I see the two of you together, and I feel like I’m missing something…He knew that I was going shopping this week, and he not only encouraged me, he gave me money.”

  “So? That’s nice. That’s what big brothers are for. What did you buy?”

  “The money was for you, not me.”

  Julia frowned and turned sideways on the bed, cross-legged, so that she could face her friend. “Why the hell would he do that?”

  “You tell me.” Rachel cocked her head to one side.

  “I don’t know. He’s been rude to me since I got here.”

  “Well, he gave me some money and told me to buy you a gift. He was very specific. So here it is.” Rachel placed the box in Julia’s lap.

  “I don’t want it.” She tried to hand it back, but Rachel refused.

  “At least open it and see what it is.”

  Julia shook her head, but Rachel insisted. So she opened the box. In it she found a very nice chocolate-brown, Italian-made leather messenger bag. She held the bag up by its strap and looked at it. The label said Fendi.

  Holy crap, thought Julia.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  “I don’t—know,” she stammered, staring at the beautiful and classic bag in astonishment.

  Rachel took it from her and began rummaging through it, muttering about its internal stitching, numerous compartments, and overall quality workmanship. “See how perfect it is? It’s functional and feminine, since it’s a messenger bag and not a briefcase, and it’s Italian. And we both know
that you and Gabriel have a thing…for Italy,” she added, after a pause that was designed to elicit some kind of reaction.

  Julia’s telltale flush and immediate nervousness told Rachel all she needed to know, but she chose not to embarrass her friend any further. “I’m not supposed to tell you it’s from him. He was very explicit. Of course, I ignored him.” She chuckled.

  “Your brother wants me to have this because he doesn’t like looking at my ratty old knapsack. Its very existence offends his patrician sensibilities, so he thinks he can use you to persuade me to get rid of it. But I’m not going to. It’s an L.L. Bean, damn it, and they offer a lifetime guarantee. I’ll send it back to Maine, and they’ll replace it. He can take his messenger bag and shove it up his I’m-too-good-for-domestic-items ass.”

  Rachel was stunned momentarily. “It’s not as if he’ll miss the money. He has piles of it.”

  “Professors don’t make that much money.”

  “That’s right. He inherited it.”

  “From Grace?”

  “No, from his biological father. A number of years ago a lawyer tracked Gabriel down and told him his father had died and left him a lot of money. I’m not sure he even knew his father’s name before that. Gabriel refused the inheritance at first, but later changed his mind.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It was after his fight with Scott. I didn’t talk to Gabriel after that for a very long time. But as far as the money is concerned, I think he’s trying to spend it faster than it accumulates interest. So don’t think of this as a gift from Gabriel—think of it as him sticking it to his old man. He wants to give money away. And he wants you to have something nice. He told me so.”

  Julia shook her head. “I can’t accept it. I don’t care where it came from or why.”

  Rachel gave her friend a pained look. “Please, Julia. Gabriel has been on the outs with all of us for so long. He’s finally letting me back into his life. I don’t think I can lose him now after everything…” Her face crumpled, and she looked very upset.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s too much. He’s my professor—he’ll get in trouble!”

  Rachel clutched Julia’s hand. “Will you tell on him?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good, because you’re supposed to think this is a belated birthday gift from me or Mom.” Rachel’s eyes widened as she realized her mistake. “Oh God, Julia, your birthday. I forgot. I’m so sorry.”

  Julia clenched her teeth a little. “I don’t really celebrate it anymore. It’s just too hard…I can’t…”

  “Do you ever hear from him?”

  Julia immediately felt ill. “Only when he’s drunk or pissed off about something. But I changed my cell phone number when I moved here so he couldn’t call me.”

  “Bastard,” said Rachel. “Well, I wasn’t supposed to tell you the messenger bag was from Gabriel, but I just couldn’t lie to you. I know how much it hurts you when people lie, and I wasn’t going to do that.”

  The two friends exchanged a meaningful look. Julia contemplated this one gift from Gabriel and all of its implications, spoken and unspoken. She didn’t want to receive a gift from him. He’d rejected her, plain and simple. Could she have this bag in her little hobbit hole? Could she use it, carry it to school, knowing all the while that it was from him? Knowing that he’d be staring at her smugly, thinking that he’d done her some kind of service? Not for Gabriel. Not for all the tea in China.

  Rachel saw what Julia was about to do even before the words had formed in the back of her mind. “If you don’t accept the bag, he’ll know something went wrong. He’ll blame me, instead.”

  Julia silently cursed him. Oh gods of all pretentious pole-in-keister Dante specialists, send him a rash on il pene. Please. Something extra itchy.

  But for Rachel, Julia would do anything. “Fine. I’ll do this for you. But will you please tell Gabriel not to buy me any more stuff? I’m starting to feel like one of those kids on the UNICEF box at Halloween.”

  Rachel gave her friend a nod and a smile and bit into a chocolate. She licked the cocoa from her lips and closed her eyes. It was good.

  Julia hugged the briefcase to her chest, like a shield, and inhaled the lovely leather scent. Gabriel wanted me to have a present. He must feel something for me, even if it’s only pity. And now I have something of his besides a photograph…something I’ll own forever.

  She waited a moment before delicately changing the subject. “Will you tell me what happened at the funeral? I sent a card with some flowers, and Gabriel saw them, but he had no idea why I sent them.”

  “I heard about that. I saw the gardenias, and Scott said they were from you, but the card disappeared before I had a chance to explain it to Gabriel. I was a wreck. My brothers were fighting, and I was trying to keep them away from each other before someone went through a window. Or a coffee table.”

  Julia thought of shattered glass and blood on a white carpet, and she shivered. “Why are they always fighting?”

  Rachel sighed. “It never used to be that way. Gabriel changed when he went to Harvard…” Her voice trailed off mysteriously.

  Julia didn’t feel comfortable pressing her, so she kept silent.

  “As you know, Gabriel didn’t come home again for years after his fight with Scott, and when he did, he would only stay a few days. He insisted on sleeping at a hotel, and that broke Mom’s heart. Scott won’t let Gabriel forget it—all the stuff he put Mom through.” Rachel chewed another truffle thoughtfully.

  “Scott looked up to Gabriel. It really hurt him when things went sour. Now they barely speak to one another, and when they do…” She shuddered. “I don’t know what I would have done without Aaron. I’d probably have run away and never come back.”

  “Even a dysfunctional family is better than no family at all,” Julia said softly.

  Rachel looked sad. “Well, that’s what we are now. We were the Clarks—now we are a dysfunctional family. A dead mother, a grief-stricken father, a hotheaded black sheep, and a pig-headed brother called Scott. I guess I’m the partridge in the pear tree.”

  “Does Scott have a girlfriend?”

  “He was dating a woman in his office, but they broke up right before Mom got sick.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rachel sighed. “My family is like a Dickensian novel, Julia. No, it’s worse. We’re a twisted mix of Arthur Miller and John Steinbeck, with a bit of Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy thrown in.”

  “Is it really that bad?”

  “Yes, because I have the feeling there are elements of Thomas Hardy lurking below the surface. And you know how much I hate him. Mind-fucking bastard.”

  Julia thought about this and hoped for her friend’s sake that the Hardy novel approximating the Rachel Clark experience was more Mayor of Casterbridge than Tess of the D’Urbervilles or, God forbid, Jude the Obscure.

  (Unfortunately, Julia did not pause to consider which Hardy novel best described her own experiences…)

  “With Mom gone, everything is in upheaval. Dad is talking about retiring and selling the house. He wants to move to Philadelphia to be closer to me and to Scott. When he asked Gabriel if he minded if he sold the house, Gabriel flipped out and wandered off into the woods. We didn’t see him again for hours.”

  Julia inhaled sharply and began to fidget with her messenger bag.

  Rachel was too busy placing her teacup on the card table and walking to the bathroom to notice, but something she said had upset Julia deeply. By the time Rachel returned, Julia had calmed herself through no little effort and was adding hot water to the teapot.

  Rachel fixed her friend with a concerned look. “What did Gabriel say that bothered you so much when you were dancing with him? And by the way, my Spanish is rusty but Besame Mucho is a pretty hot song! Did you even listen to the lyrics?”

  Julia focused her attention on her tea and tried very hard not to hyperventilate. She knew she was going to have to lie to Rachel, and it was no
t a decision she took lightly. “All we talked about is the fact that he knew I was a virgin.”

  “Bastard! Why the hell does he do things like that?” Rachel shook her head. “You just wait, I’ll get him. He has these photos in his bedroom, and I’m going to…”

  “Don’t bother. It’s true. Why should I try to hide it?” She bit her lip. “I just can’t figure out how he knew. It’s not as if I bring it up in polite conversation: Good afternoon, Professor Emerson. My name is Miss Mitchell, and I’m a virgin from Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania. Pleased to meet you.”

  Rachel waved her hand dismissively. “Think about it. He’s never exactly been in want of female companionship. I’m sure you seem different to him; you were probably the only girl at the club, apart from me, who wasn’t in heat.”

  Julia looked disgusted, and rightly so, but didn’t comment.

  “When you came off the dance floor you looked as if you’d seen a ghost. Like how I imagined you would have looked the night you saw Si—”

  “Please, Rachel. Don’t. I can’t talk about that night. I can’t even think about it.”

  “I could run him over with my car for what he did to you. I still might do that. Is he in Philadelphia? Give me his address.”

  “Please,” Julia begged, hugging her arms protectively across her chest.

  Rachel pulled her friend into a warm embrace. “Don’t you worry. You’re going to be happy someday. You’re going to fall in love with a beautiful boy, and he’s going to love you back so much it will hurt. And you’re going to get married and have a baby girl and live happily ever after. In New England, I think. At least, that’s the story I’d write for you, if I could.”

  “I hope your story comes true. I’d like to believe something like that is possible, even for me. Otherwise, I just don’t know…”

  Rachel smiled. “You, of all people, deserve a happy ending. Despite everything that happened to you, you aren’t bitter. You aren’t cold. You’ve just retreated a little and been shy, and that’s okay. If I were a fairy godmother, I would give you your heart’s desire in an instant. And I would wipe away your tears and tell you not to cry. I wish Gabriel had taken a page from your book, Miss Julia. He could have learned a thing or two from you about how to deal with heartbreak.”