You Deserve Nothing - Alexander Maksik [4]
Lowering my voice, I said, “Look, I realize that what he said was inappropriate. I recognize all of that but can you not see the humor?”
“It’s that attitude which has allowed him the freedom to make those comments. No one says anything. He’s tolerated as a silly man. That’s just Mickey. He’s harmless. So he goes on commenting on his students’ bodies and sniffing their perfume. I don’t find him charming at all. That he’s an old man oblivious to the world around him makes it no better.”
“Can’t I be offended and amused at the same time?”
Mia let out a frustrated breath. This kind of thing was always a source of tension for us. She was too easily offended and carried every offense with her for days.
* * *
And so now with Mickey’s sudden approach and landing, Mia becomes stone.
“Right down the shitter. The years just go rolling on by,” he says refilling my cup. He tilts the bottle toward Mia who has covered hers with her palm. “Mia?”
She shakes her head and says nothing. If Mickey registers this slight he gives no indication.
“So what are the big plans this summer? Going anywhere good?”
Unwilling to endure Mia’s silence I answer. “Going to Greece, back mid-August. What are you up to, Mickey?”
“Greece, huh? Great great. I was in Greece oh, I don’t know, twenty years ago maybe. Met a Swedish girl there. My God. What a body. The islands right? You’re going to the islands?”
“Santorini.”
“Oui. Been to Santorini. Trés beau. But the girls are in Mykonos my friend. Everyone’s naked. Naked women and gay men. Not bad odds. I’d say go to Mykonos. See what happens. Find a girl. Not bad. Not a bad way to spend a summer. Mia? Plans?”
But Mia is already getting up. She slips her feet into her sandals and walks away. Mickey looks at me for an explanation.
“You should ask her.”
“O.K. Well, women. I’ll go grab her. Have a great summer, Will. Mykonos. I’m telling you. Girls for miles. You take good care of yourself, O.K.?”
“I will and thanks for the tip, Mickey. You have a great summer too.”
He levers himself to his feet, groans and heads off to find Mia. She eludes him and eventually works her way back to me. I smile at her.
“You’re a bad person,” she says, forgiving me.
* * *
Mia and I together on the métro home with old shopping bags on the seats opposite us. They’re full of end-of-the-year gifts—bottles of good champagne, a tie, a scarf, chocolate, cologne, perfume, candles. The train is nearly empty.
“Are you going on Sunday?”
“I promised Mazin.”
“Can we go together?”
She won’t say, “Let’s go together,” or, “We’re going together.” She can’t be that loose. Afraid that she’ll be imposing, she maintains a slight sense of formality and caution.
“Obviously, we’ll go together. Have you seen the address? Quai de la Tournelle. It’ll be opulent.”
“You think?”
“I do.”
The métro stops at St. Paul and Mia collects her things. “O.K., I’ll see you at graduation?”
I continue on, change to the four at Châtelet, get off at Odéon, cross Boulevard St. Germain, and walk down the rue de Seine. I pass Bar du Marché, full of people, mostly tourists, sitting on the terrace in the sun drinking expensive beer. I begin the long climb to my apartment—one hundred and seventy-seven steps. Today the stairs feel particularly steep, winding up and up, the bags heavy in my hands.
In a few hours the sun will spread a long rectangle of light across the floor. There’s a large fireplace, a wide bed up a ladder in a mezzanine, a window that opens to the street.
The sun is low, the Eiffel Tower silhouetted against the sky to the west. I can see the golden cupola of l’Institut de France. To the south, the dark dome of the Palais du Luxembourg. Below, the cafés are crowded with people. Across the street, Pauline’s window is open. Her boyfriend Sébastien stands shirtless washing dishes. A white Alsatian is stretched out in the sun fast asleep in front of Claude et Cie butchers. Down the rue de Buci, the little brown mutt keeps guard in front of the Café Conti and I stand in my window looking out, feeling the summer expanding in front