You Deserve Nothing - Alexander Maksik [7]
I went in search of Mia.
On my way through the apartment I ran into Mazin’s father, a handsome man in an expensive black suit. He shook my hand.
“Mr. Silver. I’m glad I found you. Mazin’s been talking about you all year. I’ve been traveling so much. I’m sorry we’re only meeting now. Do you have everything you need?”
I told him that I’d eaten, that the food was excellent, that he had a beautiful home.
“Listen, Mr. Silver, Mazin’s never talked about a teacher the way he’s talked about you. He’s changed this year and I think it has a lot to do with your class. It is a difficult thing being away from your family, from your sons so much. It is the nature of my work of course. But nonetheless a difficult thing. The point is that I’m grateful to you.”
“Thank you, sir. Your son is wonderful. He’s grown up a lot this year. I’ve come to really care for him. You must be very proud.”
“I am. We are.”
I smiled.
“Another glass of champagne?”
“I’d better not.”
“O.K., well, if there’s anything I can ever do for you, Mr. Silver, please ask. As I said, I’m so grateful.”
“This party is more than enough.”
At the far end of the apartment, Mia was in a large room that had been turned into a dance floor. Glamorous, shoeless women danced, their arms reaching up toward the dimmed chandelier. A group of children, six or seven years old, wiggled around them. There were ISF students and graduates moving and singing with the music. Mia was there in the middle of a small group of girls, all of them thrilled by her presence.
I leaned against the wall and watched. From time to time one of the kids would pass by and try to get me to dance. I kept my place until Mazin’s mother took me by the hand and pulled me onto the floor. It seemed as if everyone at the party was used to being there, that this was how it always was—family coming and going, people around.
The music sped up. Someone popped the cork from a bottle of champagne. Molly appeared, took my hands and pulled me across the room to a group of kids. Ariel tossed her hair. Mike Chandler, dancing behind her, winked at me as if he were my uncle, raised his glass and took a long drink. Ariel leaned back against him, grinned at me and closed her eyes.
Steven walked past and punched me on the shoulder.
“What up, Mr. S. Working it on the dance floor. Good to see, good to see.”
Eventually I made my way through the crowd and back out onto the balcony. The night air felt good. I was giddy and didn’t want to go home. I leaned out over the street. When Mia found me we watched the passing tourist boats for a while, their spotlights moving across the buildings, lighting us up while kids waved and shouted from the decks. Mia waved back. Neither of us spoke for a while. Then she touched my arm and took a long breath.
“William,” she said. “William, William.”
“It’s beautiful. It’s too much.”
“Yes.” I could feel her looking at me.
I closed my eyes.
“William,” she said again. She was pressed against me, her hip to mine, her hand on my arm. I could smell her hair.
“So? Are we going out with them?” I asked.
I couldn’t look at her.
I wanted to walk home alone along the river. Stop for a beer at La Palette. But it was all too beautiful to go home—the air, the rustling leaves slowly turning green to white, green to white, the water below, the sound of the guitar coming up off the bridge.
“Let’s,” she said. “We’ll go for a drink.”
Mia went to the bathroom. I put my coat on and waited in the living room. The apartment was still crowded. Ariel sat on the floor with a girl I recognized from school. They watched me and whispered until Ariel waved me over.
“So did you decide?” Ariel asked smiling, looking up at me.
“I think we’re coming. I’m just waiting for Ms. Keller.”
“Awesome. Oh, do you know Marie?”
“No,” I said. “Hello, Marie.”
“She’s my best friend in the world.” Ariel said, obviously drunk.
“Good to meet you. Maybe I’ll