Chapter 4
Gabriel: #OppositesAttract
P aula’s in a fit of rage. Can’t blame her. I’d be too if I were in her shoes. She’s still clutching that lamp, and I’m honestly a little scared about what she might do with it. I slowly stand up while she’s throwing expletives my way. I raise my hands, inching toward her, hoping to grab the lamp.
“You’re breaking up with me tonight ? How dare you?”
“If I say yes, will you put the lamp down?”
“I thought we were happy. I had so many plans for us after you got back from Paris. And you’re just throwing it all away? Like its nothing? Like I’m nothing. Do you know how rare it is to find soulmates, to find people who really love you?”
“Look, Paula,” I say, trying to keep my voice as soft and tender as possible, given the circumstances, “I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”
That only serves to set her off even more. The hand holding the lamp, which had so far gone into a statue mode, suddenly comes alive and swings at me. Luckily, I jump aside barely in time to avoid the blow.
“You got some nerves, Gabriel, saying that. At least be honest. That’s the least you can do after I hear about your breaking up with me while you crib about us with a third person. It’s so messed up.”
Now, I’m torn. How much of the conversation did she hear? Does she really want me to be honest or is this one of those times when I’m supposed to lie, pretending it’s the truth? Can I call Nora and ask?
“Um, I’m sorry, Paula. And you’re right. That’s not how you, or anyone, should hear about their breakup. But it’s true. I have to break up with you tonight. I mean…now. But you’re an exceptional woman and I think you can do so much better than me.”
“Of course I can, you dolt. You, with your gigantic head and tiny dick.”
“Hey hey. C’mon on now, girl. Tiny? You know that’s not true. That’s not what you said last week, before I went to Paris. Quite the opposite, if memory serves me right.”
“Yeah, whatever. Don’t try to be cocky. You don’t deserve me and you’ll never have a girlfriend. Ask me why?”
I give her a vacant stare, not sure if she wants an answer or if it’s one of those rhetorical questions.
“Go on. Ask me,” she yells.
Well, guess I need to respond.
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because you don’t want one. You wanna know why?”
I believe she wants me to say yes, so I do.
“Because you already have one. Nora. So fuck you and fuck her.” She throws the lamp to the floor and opens the door.
“I really liked the lamp, y’know,” she says.
“Do you want it? You can take it if you like,” I offer.
She glares at me for a moment, then at the broken pieces of the lamp on the floor, and gives me the middle finger, followed by the inevitable door slam. I slip into the couch again. That didn’t go as planned. I check my watch. And I still have a dinner to go to. Ugh!
My life is such a mess and if I had to pinpoint the time in my life when all the messiness began and my life, such as it was, changed significantly, I’d say it was the day my maternal grandfather died.
No. It wasn’t because I was close to him. That’s as far away from the truth as Mariana Trench is from the peak of Everest. In fact, I’d never met him. Not once. All I knew about him was from the few times Mom spoke about him—sometimes positive things, but mostly rants. So he was like any other person—Neil Armstrong, or Nixon, or Columbus. Essentially, a man who had built an extensive business from scratch, a person to be admired but who didn’t affect me or my life.
Not until he died. And then he caused an upheaval in my, till then, peaceful life.
I was in middle school when one fine day I came home to find Mom and Dad, standing by the door with two packed suitcases ready to go to France. It was my first time traveling out of the country and despite the grim circumstances, I was super excited. Mom was crying occasionally, and every time I visibly showed my excitement, I had to face Dad’s feral stare. It wasn’t my fault I was more excited to visit the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower than being sad about the death of a person I knew nothing about.
During the week we stayed in the mansion that was my grandfather’s house in Paris, I realized two things. One that the Eiffel Tower is completely overrated. And two, that my granddad was super rich. It was no wonder, then, that he never forgave Mom for eloping with a regular American man—my dad, who barely had a fraction of his wealth. But Mom was in love and money was of no importance to her. Not then, at least.
But all that changed. Mom changed. It was as if she was a different person in Paris, one I had never met. She wore these fine designer clothes and rattled away in French, a language she had taught me, but one we didn’t speak very often back home. She had these airs around her and found fault with the way Dad and I walked, the way we ate, or spoke or sat. Whatever we did was never enough to meet the expectations of her and the people who came to visit.
One night, a couple of days after our arrival, Dad and I were sitting in the room that used to be Mom’s room as a child. Mom sashayed in, wearing her beautiful silky gown. I don’t even know where she got it from, just that it was super soft to touch.
“Honey, when can we return home?” Dad asked. “I was wondering if we should book the tickets for the third day after your father’s service?”
Mom went straight to the dressing table and began removing her earrings. “But we’ve just arrived.”
I was already bored of Paris, so I pipped in. “I want to go back. I miss my friends, not to talk about the school work that I’m falling behind on.” I knew talking about schoolwork was a long shot, but a guy’s got to try.
“Yeah, you mean you miss that girl, Nora? She’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Enjoy the new city, new country, new culture.”
“Can I at least talk to Nora? I don’t know how she must be managing with us not being there.”
“She’ll be fine. You won’t always be there for her, y’know. You can talk to her when we’re back.”
“So how long do you think we’ll be here, a week or…” Dad’s voice trails off as Mom jerks her head back.
“Why don’t you see that this is home for me? Can you at least try and be normal for my sake? Pretend to be one among the family.”
Dad scoffs, unfortunately, a little too loud.
“What does that scoff mean? You don’t consider yourself family?”
“I do. But do they consider me family? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how they treat me and Gabriel or how they look at us.”
“Maybe it’s because you both act so different. You’re dressed poorly. You eat weirdly.”
“Maybe we do that because that’s who we are. And you never had a problem with that until we came here.”
That was the first day I saw my parents fight. I resented Mom for not standing by Dad when her family treated him poorly. I resented her even more for not letting me talk to Nora.
The trip was overall not great. But the highlight for me was that I got to make out with a really hot girl. It was my first kiss ever.
What with my changed mother who seemed to worry about me even less than she had earlier done, constant fights at home, enough money for us to splurge how we wanted, and the newfound confidence that a middle-school boy gets after he kisses a beautiful girl, I was a changed person.
I went to France a young boy, and I came back a young man. At least in my head, that’s how it played.
I became a hero among the girls in my class and the envy of boys. I learned to be the perfect gentleman, opening car doors, pulling out chairs, helping the girls with their coats, laughing at their jokes, listening to them rant. I think the only girl I ever really listened to was Nora. With the others, it was fake, only to get them into bed, which after some time became quite easy.
But there it was, the six-month-itch, that has been as real as life itself, even though I keep denying it.
The ringing of my phone brings me back.
“Are you on your way?”
It’s Mom. Trust her to make sure I do what she wants me to. She’s never called before an exam or an interview to see if I was on time.
“I’m leaving,” I say. “Don’t worry. I won’t be late.”
I pull myself up, take a quick shower, and change into fresh clothes. I double-check the hotel where I need to pick up Sophia and start the drive, praying for the day to just end. Mom sent me her phone number too. Not wanting to wait around, I text Sophia to meet me at the entrance as I’m about to arrive.
When I pull up, I see a woman in a sleek white dress.
She leans in. “Gabriel?” I smile and nod. Before I can unfasten my seatbelt and get out to help her, she opens the door and gets in. “Hi, I’m Sophia. Your mom and grandma have told me a lot about you.”
Her accent doesn’t hint at her French background. She flicks her wavy hair back and regards me with her large hazel eyes. She’s stunning. Would it be weird if I took her home with me? It wouldn’t, right? I mean, I’ve already broken up with Paula.
I smile at the thought. Something good finally came out of Paula coming over unannounced and breaking up a few hours earlier than I’d planned.
“Mom told me a bit of you. Not much, unfortunately, so I’m eagerly waiting to hear more about you during the dinner. Shall we?”
“Sure. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
We reach the restaurant. It’s a very high-end French restaurant, Mom’s favorite place. A liveried man marches up and opens the door for us, someone escorts us to our reserved table, another one materializes to pull out our chairs before we sit. Mom has apparently already ordered the wine which they serve soon after we take our seats.
We place our orders, and then it’s on me to act as the perfect date. I smile and nod as she tells me she’s studied at Harvard and has stayed in the States for a few years before that with an uncle of hers. No wonder her accent is as American as it gets.
The food is served and it’s presented so beautifully that I don’t feel like spoiling it by putting my fork into it. Nora would have loved to take a pic.
“And what are you doing now? What brings you to Boston?” I ask, finally digging in.
“After graduation, I joined my family business. We’re based out of France, but we also have an office in Manhattan and another one in Boston. We’re planning to expand this Boston office. That’s why I’m here.”
“That’s great,” I reply, looking into her eyes. “I hope you decide to go ahead with your plans. I can get to see you more often then.”
She blushes a little but maintains her composure. “So, do you often go to France?”
“Sometimes. In fact, I was there this past week. Just returned earlier today.”
“Ah, interesting. You visited Madame Bardot?”
I give her a confused look. “Your grandmom,” she says, arching her brows and smiling.
“Ah. She’s always Mamie, so y’know.” I feel so foolish. “But no. Not this time. I was there for work.” I don’t want to tell her I rarely visit any of my family unless Mom travels with me.
“She’s a lovely person, Madame Bardot, your grandmom ,” she says, examining me with a twinkle in her eyes. “I believe you never got to know your granddad. He was quite a strict man.”
“How do you know I never knew him? Have you been trying to find out details about me?” I say with a wink and a slight tilt of the head.
“It seems you don’t remember me, Gabriel. We met at your granddad’s funeral. We sneaked out during the service. Ring any bells?”
“Oh, my God! That was you ?”
I give out an embarrassed laugh. Turns out the hot girl who gave me my first ever kiss was Sophia. I’m glad to see that she’s laughing as well.
“So that means you’re the granddaughter of my grand-dad’s friend. That’s what Mom told me when she came back from Paris—How dare you kiss the granddaughter of Dad’s friend?”
She titters. “Yes, you shouldn’t have.”
“Oh really! If I remember correctly, wasn’t it you who dragged me from the service and led me behind that pillar?”
“Well, you seemed totally bored and in danger of passing out during the service. That would’ve been rude to your granddad’s memory, isn’t it? All I did was save you.”
“That you did,” I say as I relive my first kiss.
We’d sneaked behind the pillar and before I knew it, her lips were on mine, her hands on my bottom, pulling me closer to her.
It was my first time kissing a girl, at least the French kiss way. When in France, y’know. I reacted like any young boy would. I kissed her back with a feral intensity. With one hand, I held her head in an attempt to feel some control over what was going on, but the other somehow found its way to her thighs. I was clumsy, I guess, but she seemed to enjoy herself.
That’s when we heard a booming voice.
“What the hell is going on?”
She pulled away as if struck by lightning.
“Papa?” she stuttered, adjusting her skirt and peeping out from our hiding place. “Nothing. We were just... nothing.”
She stood there with her head lowered.
“You’re in trouble, young lady.” Then the man’s gaze fell on me. “And who’s this?”
The ‘this’ had a certain repugnance to it that only rich French fathers can give to a harmless word.
I’m not proud of what I did next, but I did what any middle schooler caught in such a situation would do. I ran and hid until the end of the service.
I look at her, sitting across from me. A tiny smile is playing on her lips, but it’s restrained, a far cry from the over-enthusiastic girl I remember. Her back is straight and her demeanor is mostly formal. Every inch of her has transformed from a young, exuberant girl to the business-woman destined to inherit and run Martin Enterprises.
“I can’t tell you how bad I felt at running away when your father came and saw us. I wanted to meet you and apologize, but I didn’t even know your name. And then Dad and I left the next day and when Mom returned, she gave me so much flak for it I hated you for many days after. Not that it was your fault or not that I regret it. But I hated being grounded for days because of it.”
She’s still smiling. I tilt my head, my gaze fixed of her and raise my eyebrows, making the best puppy face I can muster. “Would you accept a delayed apology? I’m really sorry about that day. For running away, not for the kiss.”
“Yeah. The kiss was good, wasn’t it?”
I rest my hand on the table and nod. “It was my first real kiss, so it meant a lot more to me than it probably did to you,” I say, looking right into her eyes. She takes the bait and puts her palm over mine.
The conversation flows easily after that. She’s very passionate about her work and the family business. They’re into perfumes and have quite a few brands across price ranges. I try to find out what she does other than work. I mean, just like I love good food, reading, running, and even rowing with my buddies, she must have some hobbies.
“I read when I have time, which is usually on flights. For anything else, who has the time, right?”
“Great. I love reading. What genre do you like?”
“Business books, mostly. Or books on marketing and sometimes time management and productivity. It’s always good to get some ideas on how we can squeeze more into twenty-four hours. What about you? Which is your favorite book?”
“Kotler’s book on marketing,” I reply.
I meant it as a joke, but she takes it seriously and believes it, and I’m too embarrassed to correct her and tell her I like murder mysteries and crime fiction. I don’t want her to think I’m not a serious reader, and something tells me that’s the opinion she’ll form if she knows what I read.
We’re almost done with dinner, and it’s the perfect time to leave and see whether the night ends at her hotel room or my condo. Not my condo, I think as I remember the broken lamp. Plus, she will notice the shelves full of thriller and mystery books.
I pay for dinner and lead her outside to my car and begin driving toward her hotel. It’s not too far so there’s not much time to play all my cards. I give her a quick glance. She’s pretty and she’s been giving me these looks all through the dinner. If she gives a hint, should I go to her room? Would it be awkward given that her family knows Mom’s family? Maybe I should call Nora and ask.
Right then, my phone rings and I see Nora’s name flash on the screen. She’s a savior, if there was one. I mean, how did she know I needed to talk to her right at this moment? But I can’t take the call in front of Sophia. I spot a café right next to the hotel.
“You wanna have coffee?” I ask.
She spins her head toward me and raises her brows. Then she smiles. “Sure,” she almost sings it. I park the car in the tiny parking place in front of the café.
“Oh, you meant here ?” she says, raising her brows a little.
That’s when realization dawns on me. She meant ‘ coffee ’, in her room. I almost slam my head.
“I can take you wherever you want, So-phia,” I say, leaning a little and gazing into her eyes. That’s my move, one that no girl can resist.
That’s when my phone rings again, and I see it’s Nora. Second call. I need to take it.
“Give me a minute, and then I’m all yours,” I say, stepping out of the car and picking up the phone. “Hey, Nora. I’m out with Sophia and need your opinion.”
I hear a tiny sniff, and I feel my heart racing. Did anyone hurt her? “You okay? What happened?” I feel my palm clenching the phone a little too tightly.
“It’s Rick. He proposed.”
“Then why’re you crying?”
“I said no. That I needed more time. I even told him it was you who suggested I tell him the truth and not beat around the bush.”
“Wait! Wait! You told your BF that I, the person he’s jealous of, told you something regarding your relationship. Are you crazy, or what?”
“Crazy, I guess. That’s the word Rick too used for me. Maybe that’s what I am.”
There’s a lot of background noise. That of cars.
“Where are you right now?”
“Outside Rick’s home. We got into a big fight and I said I can’t stay with him another minute and he said I should leave. And I did, and he didn’t stop me. In fact, he threw my stuff in bags and handed them over to me. And the bags are so heavy. The big one’s wheel is broken and I need to find a hotel now for a few days till I can find someplace to stay. Ugh. I don’t know what to do.”
She says it all so fast, sniffing in between. It takes me a few moments to digest what she said.
“What! Rick made you go out alone with your stuff at this time of the night? Son of a…. What kind of man is he? Don’t worry, okay? You stay right where you are. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Can you do that?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I disconnect and hurry over to the car. That’s when I remember Sophia waiting for me inside. Well, that’ll have to wait.
I get inside the car. “Hey, I’m so sorry. Something came up. A friend has an emergency and I need to help her out. Maybe we should get together again soon?”
She nods. “I understand. The classic friend-is-in-trouble,” she says, making air quotes with her fingers.
Oh, dear Jesus. She’s misunderstanding and I don’t have time to explain. She’s already out of the car by the time I find my voice.
“It’s not an excuse, Sophia. My friend is really in trouble. And I’ll drop you to the hotel. Please don’t walk away.”
“The hotel is right next door. Don’t worry about me. Help your friend, who obviously seems more important to you than I am. We’ll see about meeting again.”
She waves and walks away. Is she angry? I mean, I barely know her. Obviously, a friend will be more important than her. Does she expect people she has just met to prioritize her over everyone else? But she is pretty. And now, for some weird reason, I want her even more. Why do I like such girls? Girls who are nothing like me. Opposites attract. Yup. That’s the reason.
Well, I can deal with her later. I need to get to Nora first.