Make Me Bad: Private Lessons (22 page)

I take off my glasses and rub at my
eyes. I don’t want to have to continue, but I have more to say. “And that’s
just the beginning. Besides the fact that I’m too old for you, you would have
to take on all my baggage. Deal with my emotions and mood swings – it’s not
fair for someone your age.”

She’s still looking at me like a
petulant child, her arms folded across her chest.

“Isn’t that enough for you? Do you
really need more reasons?” I expect her to say something in a stubborn tone,
such as she doesn’t care or we can work it out, but she doesn’t.

She finally speaks. “I know you’re
right. I hear you and I understand what you’re saying.” She moves closer to my
desk, her arms finally resting at her side, making her more approachable. “But
I still believe we can work through it. I can handle your issues. I had a good
upbringing but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t dealt with my share of
troubles. There are burdens associated with growing up with two very famous
parents. I had a lot to deal with.”

I hadn’t really considered that,
but I suppose she could be right. I’m sure there were downsides that came with
growing up somewhat in the public eye.

“And,” she continues, “I agree this
would need to be quiet until I graduate. But why not deal with one thing at a
time? Do we need to look that far in the future?”

Now Maddie was lecturing me about
thinking and planning for the future? And just as I feel myself warming towards
her – well I was always warm towards her, but when I feel myself caving in – I
pull back. I care too much for Maddie – maybe love her?

Yes, I think I love her, and I’m
not going to destroy her by letting her foolishly carry on with me.

This is something I can do. Selfishly,
I want her in my life, but I have to try to be selfless and put her before me.

“I’m sorry, Maddie. We just can’t.
We can’t do this.”

I refuse to look at her as I
quickly gather up my papers and shove them in my briefcase. I need to get out
of here before I lose my resolve. It’s best that we aren’t continuing our
private lessons. I don’t think I could handle that myself.

“Wait. What? That’s it?”

I look up at her, meet her gaze.
“Yes, that’s it.” I keep my voice flat, trying not to let my eyes give anything
away.

I grab my bag and hurry out the
door. I can’t help but glance over at Cleo, who looks absolutely disgusted with
me. I rush past her before she can even open her mouth to say anything. I hear
Maddie come out of the room behind me and Cleo hurries to her side.

I blow out the doors, trying to get
away from the music building as fast as I can. How the hell did I screw things
up so badly? I had to start this, didn’t I? I had to beckon Maddie to follow me
into the bathroom that evening! I remember
knowing
that she would follow
me and at the same time, being absolutely shocked that she followed me.

I keep my mind focused on how I’m
no good for Maddie, repeating the phrase over and over again to myself like a
mantra. I’m so caught up in telling myself again and again that I’m wrong for
Maddie, that I don’t even notice the figure crouched on the ground outside my
apartment door until I’m practically on top of them.

It takes me a moment to gain my
senses, and at first, I think its Maddie – remembering how she showed up at my
apartment after our argument during her private lesson. But it can’t be Maddie
because I rushed out ahead of her.

And then my brain finally catches
up. I shake my head, sure that my eyesight must be wrong, and briefly wondering
if I was still drunk. Because the dark clothes, cropped hair and hard angles
are all I can see.

“Vera?” I whisper. It’s impossible
that my ex-wife is now sitting outside my apartment.

In Paris.

“Hi Luc,” she says in her husky
voice, standing tentatively. She’s dressed in her usual black – black jeans, a
black shirt and a black pea coat. But there’s a shock of purple on her –
unusual – the scarf that is wound around her neck.

She looks the same. Her hair is
still short and chopped, her face, which I once found pretty in an
unconventional, striking way, now looks hard to me.

“What the hell are you doing here?”
I can’t be nice to her; it’s just not possible.

“Wow. Hello to you, too,” she says
sarcastically.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot how well
we left things,” I say snidely. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get inside.”

Vera just stares as me, shocked by
my behavior.

“I’m here in Paris to see you,” she
says bluntly.

Is she fucking serious? What is
this about?

“Bullshit. I’m sure you’re here for
Uncle Leon.”

She shrugs. “So I made the trip out
to wrap things up at his flat. I also came to see you.”

That’s another thing. “How the hell
did you figure out where I live?”

She rolls her eyes impatiently, the
quintessential bitch as always. “It wasn’t that hard. I just went to NYU Paris
and told them that I was your wife. They handed the information right over.”
She smirks, obviously proud of herself.

“Well, congratulations. Now, if
you’ll excuse me, I’m going inside.”

I unlock the door and start to let
myself in, but she catches the door.

“You aren’t going to invite me in?”

“No.”

“Luc, really?”

“Don’t ‘Luc, really?’ me,” I say
angrily, “Are you out of your damn mind showing up here like this? Was our
divorce not clear enough for you? Or my reaction to you fucking Franz, or
whatever the hell his name was?”

She scowls. “Francis.”

“Whatever.”

“I just thought we could move past
it.”

“Move past it? Oh, I’m past it! I
still want nothing to do with you.”

I’m already disgusted by this
conversation and I walk into my apartment, not caring if she follows me. I’ll
give her a couple minutes to get the hint, or I’ll toss her out myself. This is
the last thing I need today.

“I just thought we could be
cordial. You know, maybe get together for a dinner or something while I was in
town?”

Something was definitely up. Vera
was the coldest person I knew. She didn’t care about dropping in on people, or
catching up. Vera was all about Vera. Anything she did, she always did with
herself in mind first.

“Why don’t you cut the shit and
tell me why you’re here. Why you wasted your fucking time to track down my
address and come ruin my day.”

“You’re still so charming,” she
says cynically. But I don’t back down and I wait for her to tell me what she
needs. “Fine,” she huffs, throwing her arms up, and walking across the floor,
her black combat boots slapping against my hardwood floors. “My flight isn’t
until tomorrow and the new owners just moved into Uncle Leon’s place. They
weren’t supposed to move in until next week, but they had to bump up their
schedule.”

She can’t be serious. I must be
misunderstanding her. She looks at me, expectantly, waiting for me to say
something, but this whole situation is so ludicrous that I can’t help but burst
out laughing.

“You’re kidding right? You can’t
actually be here, asking for a place to stay?”

“Yes. That is why I’m here,” she
says stubbornly. “And I don’t see what the big deal is.” She gestures to my
couch. “I can crash on your couch. I mean, we were married for shit’s sake.”

“Yes, we
were
married. And
there are a lot of good reasons why we are
no longer
married. Just go get
yourself a hotel room.”

“I can’t. My money is really
tight.”

“Please. I’m sure you inherited
something nice from Leon.”

“I did. But I don’t have access to
it yet,” she says through clenched teeth.

“What the hell, Vera? You’re telling
me that you don’t have enough fucking money to go sleep in a hotel?”

“I have about twenty Euros on me.
And I’ve lost my bank card, so I literally don’t have any money,” she says,
gritting her teeth. She goes to continue, but I hold up my hand. I can’t listen
to any more of her crap. This is out of control. Vera had always been
irresponsible, but this is bad, even for her.

“I want nothing to do with you,” I
hiss, “and quite frankly, I could care less if you slept in the damn streets.” 

Vera almost looks scared, and as
much as I despise her, I can’t literally let her sleep on the streets. Knowing
Vera, she would just camp out in my hallway and sleep outside the door to my
apartment anyway.

I storm back to my bedroom and she
has the sense not to follow me. I grab a few twenty Euro notes and come back
out. I thrust them at her. “Take these and get the hell out of here. Go find a
hotel, or a hostel, or something!  And don’t
ever
show up at my home
again in any fucking city and ask me for any favors. Am I clear?”

She nods silently. “Thank you,” she
whispers. I turn my back to her and I hear her leave through the front door. I
wait a few seconds and then go to the window. Sure enough, a minute later Vera
appears on the street, dragging a suitcase behind her.

What an awful fucking day.

Cleo tries to cheer me up the
entire way home, but it just doesn’t work. Because I’m sick of her pestering
me, I finally agree to head out to the Champs Elysées to walk around and get
hot chocolate.

“Be practical, Maddie,” she
implores, cupping her mug of cocoa and looking at me. “Where was this thing
with Luc going to go? Really? Did you think it was going to continue beyond
Paris?”

I jut my chin out stubbornly and
look away. I don’t want to admit it, but yes, I
did
think that. It was
more than just sex.

“Maddie,” she says softly,
realizing that I did in fact think that. “It never could have worked. Come on.
He’s your
teacher.
Even I would have known better.”

I still don’t answer her, stewing
in my own foolish hopes.

“I mean, look at me and Philippe,”
she says, still trying. “I really like him, and we have a great time together.
But I know it can’t continue beyond this trip. I live in New York and Philippe
lives in France. It just doesn’t work. We are both okay with having a great
time and enjoying each other’s company while I’m here. Why can’t you look at it
that way?”

“Because it’s different with Luc,”
I insist, “and besides, we both live in New York! We’ll be in the same city!”

“Okay, but still! He’s your
teacher!”

“For now! In May he will no longer be
my teacher and who says we have to make our relationship public.”

Cleo gives me a dubious look. “So,
you’re going to continue a secret relationship? How is that going to work?”

“It could work.”

Cleo shakes her head. “Well, I
tried. I don’t know what else to tell you Maddie. I feel for you, and I’m
really sorry you’re hurting. I just wish there was an easier way for you.”

I sigh. I wish there was an easier
way too. I just can’t find any way around it. I know I should just suck it up
and accept the relationship for what it was, but I can’t. I just can’t let go
for some reason.

I know that Luc isn’t the best
choice for me on paper. Sure, I could be with someone younger, who isn’t my
teacher. But Luc and I have a connection that I know is rare. I can’t walk away
from it. I don’t know much about love or fate, but I know I can’t walk away
from things with Luc.

But I can’t keep being this
pathetic, lovesick girl chasing after a man who has made it clear that he isn’t
interested.

Even though I don’t want to walk
away, I have to walk away. I have too much pride for this. I have to keep
telling myself this.

I have too much pride.

“Okay. I’m over it.”

Cleo looks at me as if I’m crazy.

“I mean it. I’m over it. I’m just
going to let it go. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to hear Luc’s
name unless we’re discussing school, and I definitely don’t want to see him
unless I have to.”

Cleo nods slowly, catching on to my
lightning fast mood change. “Ooohkay,” she says slowly, “We can do that.”

We sit in silence for a minute,
sipping our cocoa, each lost in our own thoughts.

“Shit!” she exclaims, “but what
about Saturday?”

I stare at her blankly.

“London,” she emphasizes.

“Crap!” I completely forgot that
Saturday was the group trip to London. Everyone was excited about it, and we
all had tickets for the same train. “I really want to go to London! I love
London!”

“Well, go! Who cares if Luc will be
there! The group will be big enough that you can ignore him. It’s not fair that
you shouldn’t go because of this.”

I drop my head on the table
dramatically. “But I don’t want to see him,” I moan. “I made a big deal out of
how it would be so great for us to be there together.”