35
Vadim found Basile and basically dragged him back home, but my distraught brother hasn’t said a word since Lily outed him. I feel sorry for him.
This week, I go knock on his door every morning and every evening, but he refuses to unlock it.
I think he only comes out to go to class and eat in secret, before shutting himself away in his room the rest of the time.
My mother stands on the other side of the door and tirelessly repeats the same reassuring phrases: that none of this changes anything, that he hasn’t committed any crime, that he can stop shutting himself away now. She gets no response.
I reckon he just wasn’t ready.
At first, I thought it might have come as a relief for him to have someone take the leap on his behalf, but Basile probably feels robbed of a part of his story.
At least, that’s what I imagine he feels.
No doubt he had rehearsed a hundred times in his head the way he would one day reveal this secret.
Lily feels extremely guilty; she understands now that she had no right to take that away from him.
My father, true to form, chooses to avoid the situation. He throws himself into his work, rarely showing up at the house. When he is home, he acts as if none of this ever happened. Edward Lancaster once again distinguishes himself by his complete lack of emotion and empathy.
February is shaping up to be a terrible month. Basile intends to spend the rest of his life locked in his bedroom. My parents are on the brink of divorce. Lily is consumed with guilt and has no idea how to make amends.
To top it all off, Vadim turns out to be far more traumatized than he wants to admit by his “failed” reunion with his brother, Roman.
But he flatly refuses to talk about it. After classes, he takes his mind off things with community service.
There, he sees Cheyenne, about whom he always has fascinating things to say.
Other times, he is kept busy with phone calls from Michelle Kerry, the casting director who is determined to land him the photo shoots and commercials that will make him a star.
I pray she isn’t giving him false hopes.
Clémentine, on the other hand, remains strangely distant and is still just as secretive about her mystery lover.
The only person who isn’t acting distant is Caleb.
In fact, he’s anything but. After several more visits to Abrams’s place, during which I spend more time chatting with his son than working with my professor, I start having to turn down invitations that have become a little too persistent.
Father and son both take it badly. Cal responds with flair though, despite his disappointment, with a few witty remarks and a handful of emojis in his texts.
Mr. Abrams is colder about it, delivering a little lecture on commitment.
***
[I miss you. Come on,
let’s drop everything
and go open
a koala sanctuary.]
[I miss you, too.
How about we skip Abrams’s class?]
[Tempting, but no. He’s going to
fail you if you keep this up. I
want you to succeed, Vadim. So you can have the life
you’ve always dreamed of…]
[Too bad, I liked
the koala sanctuary idea better.]
My short film is coming along well. I should be ready on time for the May presentation, and I’m quite proud of having made my own choices, rather than letting my mentor decide for me. He doesn’t seem to appreciate my newfound independence, though.
The film Vadim is working on with his partner, Phoebe McPherson, isn’t progressing at all, but my boyfriend doesn’t seem the slightest bit fazed.
Clem is relying on the brilliant Hannah Goldberg to handle everything and help her to come out of it with an A+. Since kindergarten, I’ve never seen her care so little about her studies. Still, it’s her choice, even if it’s out of character.
“Clem, come on, what are you hiding from me?”
“Nothing.”
She walks through the classroom door and heads toward her desk. I follow her, giving a little wave to Vadim, who is already leaning back in his chair at the very back of the room.
“Are you still punishing me for Paris? Is that it? That was a thousand years ago, Clem!”
“Traitor,” she grumbles.
“Let’s go get a drink at the Sunset after—”
“Shh, the tyrant is here.”
Abrams’s dark circles have grown even darker.
His stubble is now six or seven days old; it looks hard and bristly.
I feel like I can hear it scrape when he runs his hand over it.
His cheeks are even more hollow than usual—maybe its exhaustion, or maybe the holy trinity of tobacco, whiskey, and coffee has permanently replaced food.
You can see his bad mood etched in the lines pulling down the corners of his mouth, and his irritation showing in the deep crease between his brows.
Without a doubt, it’s one of those days.
I head back to my desk and sit down, praying I won’t be the first to bear the brunt of it this morning.
“I want you to stop talking now and put everything away! Cell phones, Twix bars, compact mirrors for makeup touch-ups—all of it. Class has started, for crying out loud!”
“Today, I want to see the work produced so far by the Scott-Perkins, Garcia-Lopez, and Arcadi-McPherson pairs. You’d better give me something I can sink my teeth into!”
“Garcia-Lopez is only one person, Professor,” a petite brunette calls out from the back of the room.
“Well, that young man needs to choose between his two names, dammit!”
“Uh… It’s a girl, Professor. Joanna Ga—”
“Right, and where is she? And why isn’t she speaking for herself?”
“Um… it’s me,” the brunette continues, sounding less and less confident.
“Perfect. What unbearable suspense, Joanna Garcia-Lopez! Does anyone else have any uninteresting remarks to contribute?”
“I do,” Vadim says from the back row.
“I expected nothing less from you, Arcadi. Go ahead.”
“I’d like to be able to work on my short film alone.”
“Ha! HA!” The professor forces a laugh. “And I would like to no longer have incompetent students who think they can do whatever they want. Unfortunately, life has a way of reminding us that we shouldn’t confuse dreams with reality. Any other questions?”
“Wait. You let Alma work on her own. Jude is alone, too. Are there certain criteria to meet, or is it just favoritism?”
Vadim is deliberately provoking Abrams to get a reaction and reopen negotiations.
“Ah, injustice! It’s been a while since you played that card with me, Arcadi. Hold on, let me get out my Kleenex and think about it.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to humiliate me to avoid answering the question. What would someone have to do to earn one of your little privileges?” my boyfriend continues, growing more and more insolent.
“Well, they would need to start by coming to class. Then stay away from graffiti, avoid rebellious behavior, and try not to get called to the dean’s office, for example.”
“That’s weird, because I don’t think I was the only one involved in all that.”
Vadim looks me straight in the eyes and holds my gaze.
He has never hidden the fact that he can’t stand injustice. Even when I’m caught up in it.
“Lancaster!” Abrams shouts, slamming his fist on his desk. “Since Arcadi has the great courtesy and immense courage to throw you into the arena and use you as a shield, stand up and explain to your ignorant friend that, normally, men protect women.”
“I don’t need to be protected, Professor.” The words spill of my mouth.
I stay seated. All eyes are on me now. But the only ones I can see are Vadim’s: gray, dark, intense, and piercing. Full of surprise at first, then pride. Telling me not to back down.
“But I think it would be great if we were all treated equally. I don’t want to work alone if the others can’t.”
A murmur fills the room.
Vadim smiles broadly.
Abrams eyes me, perplexed.
“Arcadi, Lancaster, Lopez, Garcia, and all the rest of you, work alone, in pairs, in groups of three, or don’t work at all. I couldn’t care less! But stop wasting my time. Get to it! And you, young revolutionary, come to my desk. Now!” An accusing finger points in my direction.
I approach slowly.
With his index finger, the professor motions for me to come a little closer. A little closer still. He tilts his head until his coarse beard brushes my cheek, his mouth close to my ear.
“Alma, this is the first and last time you speak to me in that tone. It seems to me that you’ve been losing your way lately, that you’re making the wrong choices. Let me give you one last piece of advice: hang out a little more with Caleb and a little less with Arcadi. It could change your life.”
Stunned into silence, I stare at him, then return to my seat. That recommendation sounded exactly like a threat—something that has no place in a classroom.
Some mentor he is…
I don’t tell Vadim about the little whispered threat. It would drive him crazy. Nor do I tell my parents that evening at dinner.
They have something important to announce to us. I immediately think of them separating, of what will become of us if the family falls apart. Basile, out of hiding at last, doesn’t flinch. Lily waits for the announcement, her mouth hanging open.
It’s my mother who finally speaks up. To tell us that she and my father have made a big decision in order to bring the family closer together.
They’re going to organize a dinner where each of us can invite the person of our choice, with no conditions attached.
Mom adds that she would be happy to see Vadim again and would be delighted for Basile to introduce them to “someone.”
My father doesn’t open his mouth. He only nods wordlessly, probably to appease his wife.
And who knows, maybe to save his marriage?
My sister bounces up and down with excitement at the idea.
Feeling a little skeptical, I let out a half-hearted “okay.” My brother responds that he doesn’t have anybody special to bring along.
And that’s how this fabulous “let’s-be-open-minded” dinner scheduled for the next day turns into a torture session… just for Vadim.
I try to invite Clémentine too, to create a distraction, but my best friend tells me that she already has plans with someone else.
I have to use all my charms and my best sad little pouts to convince Vadim not to refuse the Lancasters’ invitation.
I’m not thrilled about this dinner either, but I don’t want to disappoint my mother, whose intentions are good.
And I don’t want to miss the chance to show my father everything that’s good about this relationship.
I don’t really need his blessing, but it would make our lives easier.
[Imagine, we wouldn’t have
to hide anymore… <3]
[Your father is never gonna change his mind
about me, Lancaster.]
[It’s worth a try, right?]
[What will you give me
in exchange?]
[A koala kiss.]
[What’s that? Did you
just invent it?]
[You’ll see tonight. If you come…]
***
When Georgia opens the door for Vadim a few hours later, I immediately recognize the white shirt we bought together in Paris.
I smile when I see how he’s made the effort to wear it, but not to tuck it into his pants.
He seems relaxed and kisses me on the cheek before we head to the living room together.
He tugs Lily’s ponytail by way of greeting, smiles at my mother, and waves to the others.
My father wastes no time in launching into hostilities. “So, I hear you acted as a bodyguard for my wife and daughters when they returned to France?”
“I think the women of this family are quite capable of defending themselves on their own, Mr. Lancaster. Why, were you considering hiring me?” Vadim looks him in the eye without flinching.
“No, I prefer it when the work takes place on the books,” my father retorts with a pointed look.
The tone is set.
For the rest of the dinner, Vadim is courteous, pleasant, and sometimes funny—except when Edward Lancaster puts on a show by nitpicking or deliberately testing him.
When that happens, my guy stands up to him without ever losing his cool.
Or his nerve. He manages to talk about his new job, without going into details, and how it might help him break into the film industry.
My father reclassifies it as a “side job.”
By the end of the evening, Vadim has completely won over my mother and my little sister.
Basile, relieved that no one is talking about him, gradually warms up and relaxes, even going so far as to joke with us.
When the three of us find ourselves alone in the kitchen while clearing the table, my brother whispers that he had nothing to do with the photos.
That mystery remains unsolved.
Then, the patriarch insists on walking Vadim to the gate so that he can “have a word with him.” I don’t know what they say to each other, but when my father wishes me goodnight, he kisses me on the forehead, with a genuine smile that I haven’t seen on his face in a long time.
“You’ve found yourself quite a boyfriend, Alma,” he tells me. “He has a strength of character that is quite rare for your age. I agree to let you date, but I’m keeping an eye on him, and he knows it.”
He gets ready to leave, but pauses in the doorway of my room, looking at me as if I’ve suddenly grown up all at once and he’s only just realizing it.
“By the way, I gave him my permission to take you somewhere this weekend. For Valentine’s Day,” he specifies, rolling his eyes. “Just one night. Not far from here. And I want the address and the phone number of the hotel. Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Goodnight, Dad.” I smile at him, even though his need to know and control everything bothers me more and more.
That night, I sleep like a baby, right after sending one last message to Vadim.
[I don’t know how you managed all that.
Surviving dinner, making my brother laugh,
impressing my dad and convincing him
to let you take me away for the weekend…]
[You’re the best, Vadim Arcadi.
I love you, and this koala kiss
is going to be the best one
of your life.]