The Lie(23)

He’s turning mine right now.

And then he’s gone, without our eyes even meeting once.

I’m not sure how I feel about it. I stand there in the middle of the hall feeling relieved at how easy that was. How I saw him again and survived. Didn’t collapse into a puddle or lose my head with another panic attack.

And yet, I’m also bereft. Because it feels absolutely wrong to watch this man walk past me and let him go without saying anything, pretending he’s a stranger.

A stranger I used to love.





CHAPTER SEVEN

Brigs



It’s been days since I’ve seen Natasha. So long that it feels like a dream.

But on Thursday, when I have the second part of my Analyzing Comedic Film Performance class, I see Melissa again. Proof that the Natasha I saw in the hall on Monday really existed.

I don’t say anything to Melissa about her though. I want to, but it doesn’t seem like the time or the place, and when class is over, I’m occupied by other students.

When Friday rolls around, however, and I’m in the lecture theatre, teaching Early Cinema to the undergrads, Melissa is front and center. Literally. She and the two other TAs, Ben and Henry, sit in the first row, observing me very carefully. It took me a while to get used to having TAs when I was teaching in Edinburgh, and this is no different. In fact, Melissa seems to be overly attentive, hanging on to my every word, which should be flattering but it’s striking me as wrong.

My concern seem justified when class ends and she comes over to me as I’m putting my notes away.

I peer at her over my reading glasses, trying to sound as professional as possible. “Good afternoon, Melissa.”

She tilts her head at me, brushes her hair off her shoulder, and smirks. “Nice class. It’s going to be a breeze being your assistant this year.”

I raise my brow. “I’m glad you think so. I’ll try to take it easy on you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to take it easy on me,” she says. “I like it when things are hard.”

Was that an innuendo? She didn’t say it like one, but still. I think I need to tread cautiously with this one.

I clear my throat and pick up my briefcase. It’s taking everything inside me not to ask about Natasha. “Can I help you with anything?” I ask, since she’s just standing there staring.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you,” she says. “In private.”

Is it about Natasha? I want to ask. But it could and most likely is about anything but.

“Sure,” I tell her. “Come with me to my office.”

We leave the lecture theatre before it starts filling up for the next class and begin a long awkward walk down the hall and up the stairs.

“So,” I say, grappling for something to talk about other than what I really want to talk about. “What are your plans for after graduation?”

She laughs, high-pitched, like some Disney princess. “I have no plans at all except to keep on doing what I’m doing.”

“And what is that?”

“Acting,” she says proudly. “I even had an audition yesterday to be in the new season of Peaky Blinders. Do you watch that show?”

“I do,” I say slowly. “So, no plans to use your degree, then?”

“Pfft,” she says with a wave of her hand. “This is just to shut my dad and stepmother up.”

Well, no wonder she didn’t even show up to classes last week. She just needs a passing grade and she’s out. Still, a master’s degree is a pretty serious commitment for someone who doesn’t care. Maybe that’s what she wants to talk to me about.

We finally reach my office, and I’d be lying if I wasn’t looking for Natasha the entire time we were walking. Still nowhere to be found. I hope to God she’s not skipping out on school just to avoid me, but considering all the shit that went down between us at the end, I can’t say I’d be surprised.

I put my briefcase on my desk and sit down at my chair, immediately busying myself with the contents so I have something to do. “So, what’s on your mind, Melissa?”

“A lot of things,” she says, leaning against the desk just enough so that I can see down her top. I immediately avert my eyes, feeling just a tad uncomfortable. “But mainly Natasha.”

My head snaps up. “How is she?”

She smirks at me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I frown, not wanting to play games with her. I pause and then say, “I haven’t seen her in such a long time, and when we last spoke, I’m afraid it didn’t end on good terms.”

“Well, your wife and child died,” she says bluntly.

That was a blow, the icy cold image of Hamish by the pond slicing through my mind.

She continues, oblivious, “I’m sure that would make a man say a lot of things he doesn’t mean. But that’s kind of my point here. I just wanted you to know that there’s no point going after her, no point talking to her. You’re in her past and you need to stay there. Frankly, she asked me to ask you to stay away and leave her alone for good.”

Her words leave paper cuts on my heart. “I haven’t…I haven’t contacted her,” I tell her, my voice raw.

“But you want to, I can tell. I’m just saying, forget it. She wants nothing to do with you. You should be with someone who doesn’t come with a whole pile of baggage.” She bites her lip and studies me with sly eyes. “You know what she was doing in France? Having a nervous breakdown. You should have seen her after…well, you know. She couldn’t eat, sleep, couldn’t even talk. She was a f*cking mute for a month. She dropped out of school, dropped out of life. Finally, her father brought her to France where he took care of her.”