21 #2
“Lee already has his subject. It’s his, and you haven’t put anything of yourself into it.
I want you to create something that reflects who you are.
I’ll help you catch up. During the time you spend working as my assistant, from now on, we’ll work on your film.
In the meantime, every time you don’t know what to do with your pain, use it.
Describe it, convert it into images, into music, make something bigger out of it. It will be wonderful. I’m sure of it.”
“I guess I don’t have a choice,” I murmur, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
“You guess right. Now get to work!”
Abrams stands abruptly and goes to put Vadim’s chair back in its place.
The other classes follow one after the other throughout the day: film history, lighting and sound techniques, cinematography workshop, logistics and production.
I take notes mechanically and find ways to avoid participating in anything.
There is only one thing on my mind: Vadim.
And the film I could make about him. Or rather, about his absence.
About my loneliness, my memories, my fears, my hopes…
A short film project: that’s all I have left. All that connects me to him.
When I leave the campus, Clémentine is deep in conversation with Hannah Goldberg, her assigned partner, and Hannah’s older brother, who regularly comes to pick her up.
Clem shoots me a questioning look, wondering if I need her, but I realize she’s in the middle of a mission to seduce a new unattainable conquest. The text she sends me a little while later confirms that she is done with rowdy basketball players and is moving on to a new era: “tortured intellectuals.”
Heading off, I decide to take a detour past Vadim’s apartment, partly to make sure he’s still not there and partly to hurt myself even more. But also to start scouting the area for the ghostly images I’d like to shoot.
Pathetic. Damn Abrams and his grand ideas. Vadim will come home eventually…
When I get to his street, the sight of a lit window on the first floor almost makes me jump out of my skin.
Frozen on the sidewalk, I observe the building for a long time, trying to overcome my disbelief and convince myself that, yes, the light is indeed coming from the apartment I’m familiar with—the place where we kissed for the first time, where we made love for the first time, and where we were photographed without our knowledge, probably from the exact spot where I’m standing right now.
Stunned, I don’t even think to move. An avalanche of questions tumbles through my shocked mind.
When did Vadim get back? If he’s back home, free again, why hasn’t he called me yet?
Why didn’t he rush to my place, to the campus, anywhere, to find me?
My brain refuses to consider the possible answers.
But it doesn’t order my body to move either—to walk, to run up the stairs, ring his doorbell.
Instead, I stand there like a statue, my eyes glued to the glowing window where everything is still.
I watch for a movement, a shadow, a sign of life. Nothing. Instead, the light suddenly goes out.
Another jolt runs through my bones. My first instinct is to run and hide.
But my legs no longer obey me. They are heavy and motionless, rooted to the ground, as if they have been swallowed up by quicksand.
Only my racing heart reminds me that I’m alive.
It’s the only part of me with even an ounce of strength left.
A figure emerges from the building’s entrance, and my pulse quickens again. I feel a tingling sensation all the way to my fingertips. Vadim has shaved his head. I don’t even recognize him. He crosses the street and comes straight toward me.
“What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you think you’ve caused enough problems?”
It’s like a slap in the face.
My brain finally catches up. My eyes widen, and I come back to my senses.
It’s Felix. Felix Alonso, standing right in front of me, with his short hair and hard expression.
I’ve never felt so disgusted. The feeling seems mutual, though.
I’m on the verge of collapsing, but I pull myself together enough to interrogate him.
“Where’s Vadim?”
“None of your business. Get out of here.”
“Felix, please! Tell me!”
“Are you giving me orders now, Lancaster? Vadim might have fallen for your innocent little girl act, but it won’t work on me. Get out of my way!” he yells, taking another step in my direction.
“What are you talking about?” I wish I could control it, but my trembling voice betrays my fear.
“This is all your fault!” he spits in my face, before stepping around me.
I catch up with him and place a shaky hand on his arm.
“Felix, please! I’m going crazy! I’ve gone to all the police stations in the city trying to find him. I need to know! What did he do? Where is he?”
“This is the part where you start crying, is that it? You can whine all you want, Lancaster. It won’t help him get out of there. And I’ll never feel sorry for you.”
“But what can I do?”
“Nothing. You’ve done enough. Don’t do a single thing! You’re the reason he got caught. He’s not the same anymore. His mind is isn’t in the game; he’s not as careful. There’s no way this would have happened before!”
“Got caught? But for what?”
“None of your business. He has a record now, and you’re going to end up bringing him down. And me with him!”
“What? Is that why you’re living at his place?”
“Yes, are you happy? I’m in deep shit. I have nothing left if I don’t have Vadim!” Felix yells, his voice cracking.
“That makes two of us, then,” I whisper, letting my tears flow.
Felix lets out a long sigh, his body tense and his features twisted with rage,.
He looks at me for a moment, turns away, runs a hand over his forehead, then presses his thumb and index finger into his eyes, as if he’s trying to stop himself from crying.
Eventually, he pulls his hood over his buzzcut and faces me again.
“Go home, Lancaster. And leave him alone. Vadim was doing much better before you came on the scene. He had managed to get himself back on his feet. Don’t turn his whole life upside down. He’s suffered enough as it is.”
I watch Felix walk away, his big, white sneakers shuffling along the sidewalk resolutely. I’m lulled by the sound, as the quicksand closes around my feet and a powerful vice grips my heart.
My tear-filled eyes drift back to the apartment window. The light is out. The glimmer of hope is gone.