You Deserve Nothing - Alexander Maksik [66]
I watched him fling his head back one last time. His skull thudded against the wood and he fell forward, where he stayed.
I thought of walking over to him, of taking his head in my hands, of sitting next to him, allowing him to rest against me. Maybe later, I’d tell him. Maybe some other time.
The light in the stairwell was out. I turned upwards in the dark.
From my window, I could see Pauline in her kitchen washing dishes.
The wind had picked up and was blowing through my apartment. I was grateful for the cold. I watched as Sébastien wandered in wearing a pair of jeans. He wrapped his arms around her as she moved a sponge methodically around a plate. Soon they switched off the lights.
I saw myself moving away through the crowd.
And then in the dark waiting for Marie.
“O.K.,” I wrote. “Viens.”
* * *
By then, the mornings were dark. I arrived at school earlier than usual. First one in, I made a pot of coffee and then stared out the window while the machine choked to life. It was November and still the sky was clear, the sun just coming up over the trees. The grass was white with frost.
When Mia arrived, I poured her a cup of coffee. A small boy in an orange parka ran out into the middle of the field. His were the only tracks. Together we watched him lie on his back, spread his arms and legs, and beat a snow angel into the frost.
Then he stood and ran back into the school.
* * *
That afternoon we ate lunch together on one of the benches outside the cafeteria. The air kept its morning bite. She shivered and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck.
“How was your weekend?”
“Pretty horrible really.”
“Did you get my messages?” She looked away and watched some students playing basketball.
“I did. I’m sorry.”
“You could have called me back. I thought we were supposed to see a movie.”
“I should have called.”
She sighed and shook her head. She began to speak. But I stopped her, saying sharply, “Mia, I’m sorry. I said that. I should have called. Let it die, O.K.?”
“Why was it such a hard weekend, then?”
I tried to describe a widening darkness, the sensation of something collapsing. It was a relief to say it.
“Hang on,” she whispered and looked over my shoulder.
“Hi, Ms. Keller. I’m so sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you have time to go over my essay this afternoon. I looked for you in the office but this is the first time I found you, so I’m really sorry but . . . ”
“It’s fine, Marie. Calm down. This afternoon, I’m free the last two periods.”
She was standing very close to me, her hip inches from my arm. I kept my eyes forward.
“Yeah. Thank you so much. That’s great. I’ll come last period because I have History the period before but I’ll be there as soon as I’m out. I know you’re busy, so thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Mia laughed. “Relax, Marie.”
“Hey, Ms. Keller, remember in Gatsby what Daisy said about her daughter, ‘The best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’”
“And what, now you agree?”
“Please. O.K., I’ve got to go. Thank you, again. See you later.”
As she turned from the table her arm brushed against my shoulder. I could smell her as she went, and that touch went through me.
“Sorry,” Mia said. “That girl’s great, I adore her, but she never stops. You know her?”
“I’ve seen her around.”
“Marie de Cléry.”
“‘The Flea.’”
“She’s great.”
Kids were spilling out of the cafeteria doors on their way to class. They carried half-eaten bags of chips, candy bars, cans of Coke.
“So, how was your weekend?”
“It was nice, actually. I had dinner with Séb and Pauline. I love them. They asked about you. You should have come.”
“I’m glad you’ve become friends.”
“They want to set me up with some guy. A lawyer. Olivier.”
“Olivier, the lawyer.” I met her eyes and then looked away. I felt hollow and sick.
She sighed. “Anyway, I have class. I should get back.”
“I’ll take the trays in.”
“Thanks.” She stood