“So you were always a closet scientist?” I ask as she leans over to get a better look at a replica model of Saturn, turning on an improvised axis.
“Me?” She flicks a glance my way and snorts. “Not even remotely. I was destined to sell ottomans and bedroom sets in the illustrious Rodriguez Furniture Warehouse. This degree? It’s pretty much my parents humoring me. It’s going to be in finance and business. So I might one day graduate from selling sectionals to balancing the books. If I’m lucky.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask, keeping my hand just at the small of her back while she walks to the next exhibit.
We both watch the Earth, moon, and sun replicas spin around slowly, sometimes eclipsing, sometimes spread apart like they’re on paths that will never connect.
“What I want?” She takes a deep breath and moves closer to me. “I want to be free.”
“What would happen if you stopped working at your parents’ business?” I ask, and she spins around suddenly, narrowing her eyes at me.
“I don’t want to be a scientist.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
I hold my hands up, surrender style. “I’m not a recruiter for the program, if that’s what you think.”
“You’re giving off the vibe.” She drops her arms and pokes one finger into my chest.
“Sorry.” I take her hand, watch her eyes go dark, and hold back a groan when her tongue darts out, quick and pink, and wets her bottom lip. “The thing I remember most about my mother?” Genevieve leans closer, so close I can see the patterns of grays and lighter blues that make up her irises. “She lived every second like she was exactly where she wanted to be, doing exactly what she wanted to do. I’m sure she had regrets, but I think she just loved…everything. And when she died, I hated everything. I thought it was a shitty testament to who she’d been.”
“It’s normal to hate everything when you lose someone you love,” she says, threading her fingers through mine.
“Yeah, it is.” I brush her hair back from her face and let my palm linger on her cheek. She closes her eyes and breathes deep. “But it starts to become a habit. I fight it every day. Because, sometimes, I have beauty and happiness staring me right in the face, and I never even notice. Until it’s too late. I don’t want to keep making that mistake.”
“It’s not too late,” she says, her words a soft dare. Or a plea.
I pull her close, wishing she was right. Why didn’t I face my problems when they were staring me in the face? Why did I let her slip through my fingers?
Her body is warm and soft in all the right places. I haven’t slept with a girl since I left Israel, so some of what I’m feeling is pure, pent-up need. But that’s not how this is going to go. I’m not going to use Genevieve, because what I feel for her extends way beyond animal urges. I respect her. I love the way she makes me feel, the way she makes me want to change.
“Do you want to go to the roof?” I ask, and the words vibrate with my glaring frustration, which makes her eyes startle wide open.
“Sure.”
I spin her body from mine in one neat movement and we rush up the stairs, coming out onto the wide roof and into the cool night air. Night took over while we were inside, and the deep blue of the sky cools every temper that flared in me.
“It feels…so wide open up here,” she says, twirling around, head tilted back. “Free.”
“You could tell your parents you’re not working for them anymore. Don’t you have brothers and sisters who could help out?” She’s talking about the celestial beauty of freedom, I’m talking practical applications of it.
“My brother, Cohen, does work there, and so does his fiancé, at least until she graduates and gets a teaching job. Lydia is this crazy successful lawyer. Enzo has always done whatever the hell he wanted to, even when we were just kids. Cece will probably get a job as a professor.” She looks at me and raises her eyebrows. “Maybe you know her? She’s in comparative feminist lit?”
I think back to the way Cody and I made fun of the comparative lit losers and feel a surge of panic. Not like Genevieve could possibly know that. Mocking her sister, even inadvertently, is not something I want to do. Or want her to know I do, anyway.
“Uh, no. They’re so, um, different. Just, yeah, different. Plus, you know, the liberal arts department is kind of segregated from ours.” By a big, fat line of real knowledge and usefulness.
“Do you have a problem with the liberal arts?” she asks, and I can hear the laugh behind her words. “Holy crap! I can see it in your face! You do. What a science snob you are, Adam. So how much do you hate them? Is it like a separate water fountains and bathrooms kind of thing?”
“I don’t hate them,” I object. “And if we have separate bathrooms, it’s just because those douches from philosophy are always wandering into the bathroom and forgetting to ever leave. Or that’s what I hear from the math department. Those poor guys have to share bathrooms with some outlier liberal artists who snuck into their territory.”
She’s laughing hard and loud now, and the sound gets caught in the winds that pick up and toss it around on the roof. “Here I was thinking you were all open-minded. So what if I told you I wanted to major in philosophy instead of working at my parents’ place?”
“You’d be the one and only person who could bring me over to the dark side and make a liberal arts lover out of me. Never repeat that in front of Cody,” I warn, loving the easy way she bumps my hip with hers and puts a hand on my arm.
“Your secret is safe with me. And I don’t want to be in philosophy. I guess this is going to sound so damn bratty, but I don’t know what I want. I just know it’s not what I have.” She puts her hands over her face. “Ugh. That sounds so like some pathetic first world problem. You don’t have to tell me it doesn’t.”
I tug her hands down. “Hey, I’ve worked in some pretty desperate places. Refugee camps, ghettos. What you feel? That’s an everyone problem. I’m not saying you aren’t lucky to have political freedoms and clean water and vaccinations. All good stuff. But you have a right to ask for more out of your life and not feel like a bad person for it.”
“So it’s not just science and math that you’re all brilliant at, is it?” she asks.
“I guess not.” I sit on the low ledge over a sharp drop and Genevieve backs up a step.
“Get off of there.” She clutches a hand over her heart.
“Are you afraid of heights? It’s okay,” I say, jumping onto the ledge to show her. “I grew up balcony hopping across apartments. I’ve got an amazing sense of balance.” I back up a few inches, just enough so I can feel the wind tug and swirl at my back.
She puts her other hand over her mouth, then rips it away and whisper screams, “Get. Down. Now! Right now!”
“Genevieve, I’m fine. I swear. See, even if I fell, I know how to bend my knees, arch my back, keep my feet together…I’m trained in physics. I’d probably only break my legs, worst case scenario.” I turn to look down, and it’s a far fall, even for me. And I’m used to heights.
She’s taking steps back, her head shaking back and forth. “Please,” she asks.
I jump down and walk to her, about to tease her for worrying, when she shoves me against the chest, hard.
“What were you thinking?” she demands, backing me up to a wall. “You could have fallen. You could have died. What the hell, Adam? What the hell!”
I take her shaking hand in mine. “Whoa. Calm down. I was totally safe.”
“You say that, but you and I both know you weren’t. What if something happened to you?”
The way she’s shaking, I’m pretty sure she’s going to smack me across the face. And I’ll take it because, though I never meant to do it, I hate that I upset her. “Nothing was going to happen, but I’m sor—”
She flings herself into my arms and clutches at my shirt, her head buried in my shoulder, her heart thumping so hard, I can feel it against my chest.
I put my arms around her, holdin
g her close, petting her hair, doing what I can to calm her down.
“Asshole. You’re an asshole,” she says. “Don’t scare me like that.”
She’s this upset because she was worried. About me.
I wonder how much trouble I’d get into if I just laid low and never went back to Israel. If I just let this play out. All I need is a few months, then I could ask her if we could do the long distance thing. Maybe she’d want to come to Israel to study for a while. Maybe we’d move in together.
Holding her, under the speckled, inky sky, on top of the world, I know I don’t want to let go.
I also know there’s no real way I can hold on.
We leave the observatory, but we’re not ready to end the night, so we head down the highway, Genevieve flipping the radio stations, singing along until a song she likes ends, then flipping again to find a new one. I like her clear, strong voice. I like that she kicks her ridiculous heels off and tucks her bare feet under her legs.
She rolls down the window, and I lose the potent smell of her, but I get to see the way her face looks when she tips her head back, closes her eyes, and breathes the night air deep into her lungs. She lets one hand hang out the window, holds it flat in the rush of air, and watches her fingers jump and pulse in the current. When she shivers, I reach back and grab a hoodie, hand it to her, and watch as she pulls it over her head, the hood so huge, it hides her entire face.
“My shirt is so freaking uncomfortable,” she says, wrestling with herself in the loose cloth. “Will it be weird if I take it off?”
“Not weird at all,” I say, forcing the words to come out evenly.
She twists her arms inside of the hoodie and pulls the little green-ribboned shirt out the bottom, sighing heavily as she drops it on the floor. Her entire body looks different all of a sudden. She curves and stretches like she’s just been untied from ropes.
“You can turn right here,” she says, pointing to a place off the highway I’ve never even noticed. We follow a long, winding road to a tiny shop by the ocean. A surf shop.
“You know this place?” I ask as I pull in and park.
She nods, but doesn’t bother to explain any further. As soon as we’re stopped, she hops out, barefoot, arms wide, and runs through the sand and down to the waves. I walk after her, glancing back at the shop I’m sure is her maybe-boyfriend’s place. I just don’t get why she’s wasting time with an asshole like him.
Not that it’s my business to wonder. I’m a failing PhD student who’s about to get his visa revoked and lose his right to even be in this country. It’s not exactly like I’m the best candidate to be with her either. But she could do better than that asshole. That’s for damn sure.
“Adam!” she calls over the crash of the waves. “Come here!”
I run down the beach to her. “Why?” I ask.
“Because look at this!” she yells, jumping back away from the waves, then biting her lip and darting forward. “Isn’t this amazing? Doesn’t it just make you feel like…no matter how bad things are, they just can’t be that bad. Right? Because look at this!”
The sky is starlit, the waves are dark and harsh, but beautiful. The air feels like it’s buzzing with an energy that’s impossible to resist. I catch her happiness like a fever.
“It’s amazing,” I agree.
She stops jumping in the waves and pushes her hair back from her face with both hands. “You aren’t seriously saying this is amazing while you still have your shoes on. Take them off. Now.” She crooks her finger at me.
If there’s a man on this earth who could resist that crooked finger, I’d love to meet him and shake his damn hand. Because he’s a stronger man than I am.
My shoes are off and I cuff my jeans, then wade out to her side.
“That’s better.” She grins, focused on me, as a huge swell gathers and breaks right at the back of her legs. I know she’s not gauging for it, so I grab her around the waist and hold her still until the water sucks back out.
“Careful,” I say, my voice quiet because she freaked me out. It scared me to think of her falling under the water, getting pulled out. What if I wasn’t here to catch her?
Which is an idiotic thought. I haven’t been around for most of Genevieve’s life, and I’m positive tonight isn’t the first time she’s done something bordering on insane.
I also realize it must have been the exact way she felt when I was standing on the ledge of the observatory like an idiot. Only she couldn’t catch me. It’s shocking, sometimes, what a complete and total jackass I am.
“You’re making a habit of this whole knight in shining armor thing, aren’t you?” she asks, tilting her head back and laughing.
Which leaves her neck exposed. I’m about to kiss the line of her neck and up her jaw. I think about kissing her the way I bet her boyfriend never has. Like she’s the only goddamn girl in the world. Like I never want to kiss anyone else.
But I don’t. No matter how amazing this whole date feels, I’m still just her tutor. And it’s probably for the best that I have no choice but to keep it that way, since I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hang around before I officially get booted back. I hold out on the tiny sliver of hope that my extension requests work some desperate, last minute magic and they extend beyond what they’ve already offered me, but I seriously doubt it.
“Hey, come here!” Genevieve cries, dragging me by the hand. I follow her.
Of course I follow her.
She leads me up a craggy bunch of rocks just out of reach of the surf, slick with seaweed and damp with the sea spray. She pulls my sweatshirt down so she can sit on it and pulls her knees up to her chest, yanking the bottom of the sweatshirt over them and down to her ankles. I sit next to her, watching the waves smash close to where we sit, protected for this minute. Until the tide pulls in.
“It makes me feel better.” I gesture out to the roaring ocean. “It’s easier to accept that I’m just a blip in the universe here.”
Genevieve looks at me, her face small and surrounded by the large hood. “Yeah. I get that. I come here when I can for that exact reason.”
“I remember being nervous as hell when I was getting my BA,” I say. “You’re smart and hard working. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Maybe you can start visiting the ocean, you know, just to sunbathe and stuff.”
Her smile is tight. “I know—the way I dress, how I present myself sometimes—it may seem like I’m shallow. But I’m way more into contemplating my place in the universe than I am into making sure I don’t have tan lines.”
“I didn’t mean—I just wanted you to know that I have faith in you. That I think you’re gonna be just fine.” I want to touch her face again, press her hair back like I did before, but I don’t. And I probably never should have in the first place. She’s not mine to touch.
“Whoa, Teach. Back up,” she says, a nervous giggle erupting out of her throat. “It sounds suspiciously like you’re trying to break up with me.”
I brush my finger over her wrist and down her hand. She sucks her breath in and looks at me for a long second.
“I would never choose to not be able to help you, Genevieve. I know I sometimes complain during our sessions, but I really do enjoy working with you. It just…it might not be my decision. Whether I stay or not.” I hold my breath and watch her face register what I said.
Her brow furrows and her eyes narrow. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s too much sea air, but I thought you just said you’re maybe not going to tutor me anymore?”
“Cody is great. I’ll make sure he’s your tutor when I leave—”
“What?” I’m shocked at how loud her voice is. “Cody is not going to work! I need you, Adam! You and only you! Do you hear me? I will fail without your help! I will flunk out, and that’s not possible, Adam!” She’s standing on the slippery rocks now, a few feet away from the foaming, frothing explosion of ocean below.
“Genevieve, sit down,” I say, keeping my voice calm and
trying to make eye contact, but she’s flying off the handle. I stand next to her, try to lead her away from the edge. Man, karma is biting me in the ass hard. “Listen to me. It’s out of my control.”
“Why?” she demands, her hands clutching at the front of my shirt. “Is it another program? Are you transferring colleges? Because I’ll just travel to see you. You have no idea how my life will fall apart if I lose you, Adam!”
She means if she loses me as a tutor. I have to tell myself that, because, when I look down into her wild eyes, she makes my heart thud with a want I’ve never felt for anyone before.
“It’s more complicated than that,” I tell her, but I can see from the way she pulls her mouth to the side that she thinks I’m lying. She thinks I’m giving up on her. “Genevieve, it’s legal stuff. It’s nothing I have any control over. There isn’t anything else I can do. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“There’s always something else.” She pulls closer to me, and I can feel the heat of her skin through her clothes. “Tell me. I’m amazing at solving problems. You tell me what’s wrong, I’ll help you figure it out. Okay?”
I shake my head, and I get up the guts to put my hands on her face again. It may be one of the last times. Her skin is softer than I expected. I rub my thumbs over her cheekbones and watch her lips part. “I fucked up. I have no time left on my visa. I’m out of time, and I’m going to be sent back to Israel.”
“Why? Your yeast trays, they aren’t done yet, right? You’re still checking them all the time. You have to finish those—”
“I’ve used up all my extensions, Genevieve. They’re going to send me back.” I wonder if now is a good time to kiss her. I want to. God, she looks gorgeous, her lips bright pink, her eyes flashing the way they do when she’s right on the cusp of solving a really complicated problem. The wind picks up, and I use it as an excuse to brush her hair away from her face. “I want you to know, I’m going to miss you.”
Limits Page 6