Only Mine

Chapter 11

The sound of a newspaper being smacked firmly on my empty plate snapped me out of my trance. I had been nervously awaiting since the past week for my grades for the half-yearlies that were to be uploaded by afternoon. I had logged into my student account and refreshed the "Grades" page several times in the hopes that maybe someone would mistakenly upload my marksheet ahead of time. I had had no such luck and I was already weighing my options of extra credit I could possibly apply for, as well as interview for more easy and reliable on-campus jobs such as the "Phonathon". I had my interview today with the Lead Supervisor and if everything went well, I would be paid 15 euros/hour which was only slightly better than the minimum wage set by the Government. Regardless, I would be earning more than what I was at this very moment.

I was startled at the loud sound a measly newspaper was capable of making and looked into the eyes of the culprit. It was Anna who was looking at me pointedly. The newspaper has landed front up on my empty plate.

"Rough morning?" I asked in jest.

"Read the headlines," Anna said. There was no ire in her voice, which was quite in contrast to the loud smack down of the newspaper. She took a seat a little away from me and sat down. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and helped herself to some bread and butter. I looked down at the newspaper and read aloud the headline that had caught Anna's attention. 

"French Sweet Heart and Supermodel Found Murdered," I read. The article was on the bottom end of the first page of the Le Figaro with a picture of a beautiful Alexa Durham that was shot for a Bvlgari campaign in 2017. Her face screamed of innocence, with her doe like eyes and petite frame, despite her widely publicized affairs. I looked up at Anna who was leisurely eating her toast and patiently waiting for my reaction.

"Wow," I said. I had been strictly forbidden by Jean to say much about our conversations regarding this particular death. After Anna had been banished from Jean's discussion regarding my untimely visit to the police station, I had tried avoiding her as much as I could. I knew if she ever asked me about the contents of the meeting, I would succumb to her pressure embarrassingly easy. "That poor girl," was all I managed to say.

"Hmm,"  Anna said.  She took a bite out of her toast, not once breaking eye contact from me.

"Did you know her well?" I asked. Anna was being uncharacteristically quiet. She was clearly suspicious about this particular death and knew it had something to do with Jean.

"Not really. We had politely met a few times over the years," Anna said. "Last time I did see her was with Jean . . . remember?" I did remember seeing Alexa and Jean walk, hand-in-hand, whispering sweet nothings to each other and being intimate with their goodbye. I remembered staring at Jean kissing another woman -- a globally acknowledged beauty -- and the thought irked me. I pretended to ignore Anna's obvious baiting and pulled my concentration back to the newspaper article that was dedicated a quarter of the entire first page. Skimming through the article, I found no mentions of my name or Jean's. Once the relief of that passed over, I decided to give the article a thorough read.