by Claire Adams
I looked up from the computer and caught Brian staring at me from across the room. “What?” I asked.
“Nothing, just wondering how the homework is going,” he said.
“It’s. It’s fine. Why?” I asked. He was making me nervous with the way he was watching me, or maybe it was just my guilty conscience at work. Maybe he wasn’t even thinking about me beyond what he needed to do to end the situation and get rid of me so that he could get back to the new girlfriend on the other end of his phone.
“I’m just curious, that’s all,” he replied with a small grin that irritated me to the core.
“Well, maybe you should MYOB and get back to work figuring out how to get me home, hmm?” I replied in an annoyed tone.
“Yep, I’m on it, princess,” he said, his voice full of sarcasm and mocking.
“You are such a jerk,” I muttered under my breath.
“Oh, don’t I know it,” he muttered back, making me blush with shame. I didn’t want to be mean, but he was making me so mad at every turn, and the longer I sat there, the angrier I became until I was almost bouncing in my chair.
“Why are you doing this?” I shouted as I turned and looked at him.
“Doing what?” he asked with an innocent expression on his face that sent me over the edge.
“You are driving me crazy!” I yelled. “You are all nice and sweet to me and then you turn on me and now you’re totally cut off and cold. You don’t even notice I’m here because you’re so busy texting your little girlfriend…” A look of horror crossed my face as I heard the words slip out of my mouth. I’d had no intention of saying a single word about how I felt, but there it was, like a toxic cloud hanging over us, and I had no way of calling it back. I bit my lip and looked away as he burst out laughing.
“You have got to be kidding me!” He laughed harder.
“No,” I said as I narrowed my eyes and looked at him suspiciously. “I’m not.”
“My girlfriend?” He was laughing so hard could barely spit out the words. “Ava, when in the hell do I have time in the middle of this mess to find a girlfriend? Forget about trying to court her!” He was roaring now, and I was getting more and more pissed as he mocked me and my confession.
“Well, you’re on that phone texting like a maniac night and day,” I said. “What else could possibly be occupying so much of your time but a woman?”
“Oh man, you are a piece of work!” he declared. Then turning to face me, he looked at me for a long time before speaking again. “Ava, I assure you that there is no woman aside from you.”
I waited for him to say something more, but he simply stared at me in silence until I looked away.
“Okay then,” I said quietly. I had no idea what to say next. He’d given nothing away, and I didn’t want to risk blurting out how I felt about him only to have him start laughing again. So I asked, “Then what are you doing on that phone?”
“It’s something, um, personal,” he said quietly.
“Well, this whole mess is really personal for me, and I let you into that,” I said smartly. “It’s only fair that you let me into your stuff!”
“The difference is that I’ve been hired to do a job that involves protecting you,” he said. “It has to be my business.”
“Oh, so that’s how it goes,” I shot back. His remark stung and I was on the defensive now. “All the other personal stuff you told me was just part of the job?”
“No, that was…different,” he muttered. “It’s just that this is really personal, and I didn’t think it was right to involve you in it. Plus, you didn’t seem all that…welcoming.”
“Just because you’re sleeping on the couch, doesn’t mean I don’t care about what’s going on with you,” I chided.
“Well, it’s not like we’re spending a whole lot of time sitting around talking,” he replied.
“Probably because you’re on your phone all the time,” I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. His face darkened briefly before he looked over and saw me smiling.
“Touché,” he said as he returned my grin. “Fine, let’s talk then.”
“I’ve already started the conversation,” I pointed out. “I asked what you’re doing to get me home.”
“I’ve got a plan that I’m working on with a couple of former SEAL buddies,” he admitted. “I’m not sure how it’s going to play out, so I don’t want to say anything before we get the pieces in place, but I should know more this evening, and if I do, I’ll tell you then.”
“Is that what all the texting is about?” I asked.
“Um, no, not really,” he stammered as he looked away.
“Then what is it?” I probed.
“Ava, I think there are some things better left alone, okay?” he said. The look on his face begged me not to push, so I let it go.
“Fine, whatever,” I said as I turned back around and looked at my homework. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I thought about how he was shutting me out when I had let him into the darkest parts of my life, but I was determined not to let him see me break down.
“Ava,” Brian whispered in my ear making me jump. He’d gotten up and silently moved across the room. “You can push me away all you want, but at the end of the day I’m still going to be here.”
“But only because you’re being paid to be here,” I whispered at the desk as I bowed my head and I fought back the tears. I was not going to cry.
“Is that what you think?” he said softly as he ran his fingers through my hair and pulled it away from my face. “Do you think I’m only here because I’m being paid to be here?”
I nodded, unable to speak without giving away my fragile emotional state. Brian bent down and scooped me up off of the chair and carried me to the couch, where he gently set me down and then sat across from me. He took my hand and looked into my eyes for a long while.
“I’m not here just for the paycheck,” he said. “Let’s get that cleared up. I’m here because your father hired me, that’s for sure, but I stay because of you, Ava.” He stopped and let that sink in as I looked back at him.
“You’re not going to leave as soon as this is all over?” I asked. “You’ll stay with me?”
“Well, that’s a difficult one, you know?” he replied. “My job requires me to travel, and you’re still in college. You’ve got so much to do and see and experience, and I’ve…well, I’ve lived a really different life.”
“So, you’ll just pack up and leave when this is over?” I said defensively.
“I didn’t say that,” he smiled as he held my hand tightly. “I just said that there were going to be a lot of challenges for us to face. You sound like you want me to stay.”
I nodded, and then the dam broke and I began to cry. I cried not only because I wanted him to stay, but because I was tired of living a life where everyone left. I was tired of being shuttled around from place to place and having nowhere to call home. I was tired of feeling like an outsider in my own life. Brian moved forward and pulled me into his arms. He held me as I cried, sobbed really, just stroking my back and saying “It’ll be okay” over and over.
When the tears finally subsided, I felt as if I’d run a marathon. I was exhausted and hungry. Brian called down and ordered a huge dinner for both of us, and then went into the bathroom and ran a tub full of hot bubbles before coming out and telling me to go take advantage of it before the dinner arrived. I stood up and nearly stumbled. Brian swiftly caught me and carried me to the bathroom, where he gently removed my clothes before depositing me in the hot, scented water.
“Don’t drown,” he warned as he went out to the living area to set up for dinner. I giggled a little and nodded, indicating that I’d do my best to obey his order. As I lay in the tub, I felt the stress of the day sliding away, and I closed my eyes as I tried to relax.
I had no idea how this was all going to work out, but maybe, for once in my life, things would work out in a way that didn’t leave me feeling alone.
**
***
I emerged from the bathroom feeling relaxed and drowsy, and found Brian setting up the dinner dishes that the room server had delivered. It was a veritable feast, and my mouth watered as I looked at the plates full of crisp field greens mixed with bright red tomatoes and pale green cucumbers next to dinner plates containing perfectly grilled filets, baked potatoes bursting out of their skins as they dripped butter and sour cream, and pan-fried asparagus stalks coated in bread crumbs and parmesan cheese. I wouldn’t have known all of this had Brian not handed me the menu that accompanied the meal.
“Madame,” he said with a big grin as he pulled out a chair for me and motioned me to sit down. I laughed and sat. The smell of the food made my stomach growl as I remembered that I’d not eaten anything since breakfast.
“This looks amazing,” I complimented him. “Perhaps I should let you order all of my food from now on.”
“Nah, I’m a one-trick pony,” he joked. “I can pick out meat and potatoes, but the rest is beyond my skill level.”
“You’re hilarious,” I said dryly, shooting him a grin as I put my napkin on my lap and picked up my knife and fork. “But seriously, this looks delicious.”
“I aim to please,” he said with a mouth full of baked potato as he sawed at his filet. He ate like a man who had a limited amount of time to ingest his food before it was taken away.
“Slow down, we’re not in a race, sailor,” I laughed. He gave me a sheepish grin as he lowered his utensils and took a sip from his glass of water. We were quiet as we ate, but Brian watched me with a questioning look and I knew he was itching to ask something.
“So, I have to ask you,” he said on cue. “We’ve been together for almost a week now and there have been some harrowing moments that I’ve reported back to HQ, but something is puzzling me.”
“I know,” I said. I’d been prepared for this question from the first day. “You want to know why my parents never call me, right?”
“Yeah, actually, that was my question,” he said, amazed that I’d somehow read his mind. It wasn’t so much that I’d read his mind as it was that I’d been answering this same question for most of my life.
I explained to him that everyone at boarding school and then at college talked about weekly obligatory phone calls or having to check in with their parents or having to ask for money from their parents, and so kids were always asking me why I never had to do anything of these things. No check-ins and no calling to ask for money, instead, once a month I wrote a summary of my activities, printed it out, and mailed it to my father. The money was automatically deposited in my account on the 1st and 15th day of the month, and I was given such a generous allowance that I usually ended up depositing what was left over in a separate savings account I’d started at the boarding school.
“I’m not sure if my father was being savvy and teaching me business skills or if he simply didn’t want me to bother him and my mother,” I admitted. I couldn’t condemn my father, after all, he’d never been cruel to me, just indifferent. My mother was a whole other matter, and one that I didn’t really feel like sharing over dinner.
“But how can they not check in and see how you’re doing?” he asked.
“Easy, they just don’t,” I said matter-of-factly. “It’s not a crisis, it’s just the way my family operates. I think my grandfather raised my father the exact same way, so what do you expect? We do what our parents teach us to do.”
“But if that’s the case, then how did you get involved with Dominic?” he asked as he shoved another loaded fork into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as he waited for my answer.
“I already explained that,” I said. “I was duped by his personality and the money.”
“That makes no sense to me,” he mused. “You have money, and Dominic is a sociopath! He doesn’t care about anything except his reputation and his stuff.”
“Like I said,” I replied as I stared at my meat while I carefully carved a bite-sized piece from the juicy filet. “We do what our parents teach us to do.”
Brian watched me closely as he continued to chew. Suddenly the light bulb went on and he leaned across the table. “Are you telling me—”
“Just let it go, Brian,” I said pointedly. “Just let it go.”
He looked at me thoughtfully for a few moments, and then cut another piece of meat and popped it into his mouth.
“But what about your grandmother? You said she loved you,” he said.
“That was a whole other matter,” I said quietly.
“Tell me about it,” he urged as he looked into my eyes. “I want to know you — all of you.”
“My grandmother was the center of my universe,” I began. “I told you about our last trip together and what happened afterwards.”
Brian nodded and continued picking at his food. I picked up a piece of asparagus with my fingers, bit off the tip, and chewed as I thought about how to explain my grandmother to him.
“My grandmother was the epitome of high society,” I said as I thought about how she’d always dressed for dinner and insisted that I do the same when I was visiting her. “She had impeccable taste and valued courtesy and manners above all else. She used to say that without manners we were no better than a tray of ice cubes.”
Brian laughed out loud as I giggled remembering how every time she’d said this, I’d laughed because it was so ridiculous. I told him about how she’d once spent my entire spring break teaching me how to curtsey and pour the perfect cup of tea just in case I was ever invited to meet the Queen of England. Then I told him about how she’d made a habit of sending me books by Miss Manners and Leticia Baldridge in order to drive the lessons home. I was expected to read and memorize certain portions of the books so that I could recite them to my grandmother on command. It was nerve-wracking because she was demanding and did not suffer fools, but she always stepped in and helped me fill in the blanks when I couldn’t remember the exact words I’d read. It was the spirit of the law that mattered to her, not the letter of it.
“Didn’t she see what was going on with your parents?” Brian asked.
“Of course she did,” I replied. “That’s why she spent so much time with me. She knew I was lost and lonely, and that I had no idea why my parents ignored me.”
“But couldn’t she have said something to your father?” he asked.
“Oh, she did,” I said as I shook my head, recalling all the times my grandmother had confronted my father about his neglectful parenting. “She was merciless in her critique of his failure as a parent.”
Brian nodded as if he understood what I was explaining. I told him about the frequent fights between my father and my grandmother, and the way in which she berated him and made him seem small and weak. I was never sure if he knew I’d heard the abuse, but I was fairly certain she’d known that I had often been lurking outside the sitting room where they had their conversations. She was cruel and spiteful, and she said some incredibly awful things to him and about him.
“I never quite understood why,” I said, remembering the last time they’d fought. “My grandmother was so incredibly kind to me and she had the biggest heart in the world. It always seemed so odd that she could love me so much and hate my father with such intensity. Or at least I thought she hated him, but then, I was 14, what did I know?”
“Yeah, it’s hard to understand that stuff when you have no frame of reference or history,” he agreed. I stopped and looked at him carefully. He knew something. What that something was, I didn’t know, but I was going to find out.
“The last fight they’d ever had was right before my grandmother was to take me to Europe,” I recalled. “My father showed up to bring my passport and be supportive, I think. My grandmother lit into him before they’d even closed the door. She dressed him down for being inattentive, and then scolded him for not bringing my mother with him to wish me a good trip. She knew that my mother wasn’t well and that she’d been hospitalized yet again, but she couldn’t help but poke at
my father’s wound.”
I explained how my father tried to defend himself by explaining what had happened to my mother, but my grandmother had coldly cut him off with a, “You’re just like your father; good for nothing,” and then stormed out of the drawing room. She saw me there listening, and for a moment, I saw a look of pain cross her face before she rushed upstairs. She spent the next two days in her room, and on the third day, she emerged with her hair and makeup perfectly done and announced that we’d be leaving for New York that afternoon. We hadn’t been scheduled to travel until the end of the week, but she had decided it was better to get to the city and wait for our flight.
I described how we’d spent several days in New York City shopping and eating and having a grand time, but that every time I looked at my grandmother, she seemed sad. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but at 14 I still had a healthy respect for adults, and she’d been my manners coach, so I didn’t dare ask.
“I loved my grandmother more than anyone in the world, but she was…” I trailed off.
“She sounds like she was troubled,” Brian interjected.
“Yeah, troubled is a good word for it,” I affirmed. I looked over at him. I’d been talking for what felt like hours and he looked ready to drift off into a comfortable food coma. I laughed. “Do you need to get to bed?”
“Who, me?” he asked in a sleepy voice. “I’m not tired at all! I could party all night.”
“Sure, sure, big man,” I laughed. “Do you want to share the bed with me? It’s more comfortable than the couch, I think.”
“Why, Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?” he joked.
“Oh, get real, I’m just being nice,” I said, laughing that he was using a line from a 1970s movie on me, a younger woman. “We can share.”
“Yeah, that would be nice, if you don’t mind,” he said more seriously as he yawned and stretched. “My back is killing me and that couch is not made for guys my height.”