The second we get home, I take off my shoes and make my way to the bedroom to put my bag at the end of my bed to undo it later. I hear Steeve in the kitchen and make my way to him, trying to get to the bottom of his good humour, because I don't like it. I don't recognise him at all, he has never been so kind and expressive. At least not i a long time.
I walk to the couch in our small living room and I see him coming my way with two tea cups. It gets me frowning as it's also something that surprises me. He doesn't drink tea. He hates it.
"For you, gorgeous." He smiles to me and sits next to me as he hands me a cup. Gorgeous?!
I take it and get surprised at the cold ceramic, it isn't hot. It isn't tea, it's bubbly.
"Champagne?" I let out and look at him, alarmed because we don't have the luxury to buy things like this.
"It's sparkling wine, but the best for my Princess." I cringe at his words. Princess, really?
He clinks our cups and looks directly at me with the most oblivious smile of everything that has happened this weekend. We both sip the golden liquid and he instantly gets more comfortable against me sliding his hand on my thigh.
"We are celebrating tonight. I sold for more than a hundred thousands pounds of machines. You know what this means, baby girl?"
"Big commission?!"
"Oh yeah! I have five pour cent. It makes five thousands pounds in one weekend." He seems so proud and it gets me genuinely excited.
"This is amazing, Stee! Wow! I can't believe it! You must be so happy." I let out, very supportive that he is doing good in his job.
The true reason I am so happy for him is that he has a big cushion on which fall when I will leave him. He will be able to afford this flat on his own. Maybe he will take this break up all the better. I'm so happy my name does not appear on the lease at all. It gives me the liberty to leave when I want. Marcel has decided that his visit is the right time to do so. He is right. I'll really have to work hatrd tomorrow to get at least one essay done.
"I am. I couldn't wait to tell you. We signed everything this morning, so it is now official. I had the rest of the day to think about our lives and your six-step plan." He says to me being very serious, to a point where it almost scares me.
"Oh my God..." I let out despite of myself. No, no, no. I hope he doesn't want to ask me to marry him...
"I knew you would be excited." He smiles widely, clueless.
"Oh yeah?" I nervously laugh, being very uncomfortable, sipping my drink.
"I thought that, with this money and the money of your book, we could start looking for houses nearby. You are finishing College, so maybe we can look for something close to the Museum or something."
I'm torn between feeling panicke3d and happy. Either way, I'm overwhelmed. I know I shouldn't be happy because of everything he made me go through, but he is telling me everything I ever wanted to hear. It proves me he cares, but to what extent. Does he have a secret agenda?
I come back to my senses, I need to say something to get me out of this mess. It doesn't make sense. Before London, these words were all I was living for, but it isn't what I want anymore. Well, I still do, but not with him. I want to be challenged. I want to be with my best friend. I want to be free to be who I am and not struggle with this constant bullying. I don't know how he has a way to make me forget everything he has ever done wrong to me.
"I am very happy you thought about all of this, but isn't this a bad timing with me always in London?" I let out softly, but even my gentle tone doesn't suffice to not make him angry.
His jaw tenses up and he looks away, pursuing his lips together and settling on drinking his cup all at once.
"London... It changed you, you know. I can't wait for you to be done always going there on weekends." He doesn't hide his frustration and I decide to keep it safe for tonight. It isn't the time to stir everything, I will wait for Marcel to come for that.
It's weird how the thought of Marcel makes me calm and brings me comfort. I find it cute. Our relationship is weird and unconventional, but I am glad to have found a friend in him. I never thought it could happen, but it did. I just hope it can keep on getting better and we won't take a step backwards like we always seem to do.
I look back at Steeve, he is refilling his glass of 'champagne'. I decide to settle the anger that was growing inside of him.
"Well, I won't be going there this weekend." I say to him, with a bit of sadness inside of me as I know I won't see Ash this week. It reminds me to text him.
"That's good news." He smiles at me and gazes down at my lips.
He leans my way and pecks my mouth. He lazily drags his lips to my cheek and then to my neck, making me feel quite awkward. I can't reciprocate his lust at all, so I try to break the mood.
"My publisher will come here instead."
It works, he steps away and frowns heavily at me.
"Mr. Jerk is coming here? When?" He arrogantly lets out.
"I don't know and don't call him like that. He is actually pretty kind to drive all this way to come here."
"I will call him however I like." He raises his voice and I instantly stand up to walk away from him, but he takes my wrist strongly in his hand. "Don't go, I am not done celebrating with you tonight."
His tone was calmer as he pulled me back to him. He makes me fall back on the couch next to him and he hovers over me to dominate me the way he so dearly loves to do.
"I missed you, baby girl." He whispers and sneaks his lips back on the skin of my neck. "I am going to fuck you so good..." He lingers on every word and it disgusts me.
No you won't. You can't.
"Stee, we can't." I let out softly and try to push him away gently.
"Oh don't start. We haven't had sex in forever." He whines and refuses to get off me.
"Steeve, I said no." I try to be firmer with him, but he doesn't even flinch.
"Come on!" He groans in my ear and I rip away from him, completely horrified.
"Stop it!" I get up and rush away from him my heart racing in my chest, my hands shaking. I hurry to look at him from afar to not make him madder and suffer his wrath. I need to think quick. "I said we can't... I am bleeding."
I am happy I thought about this quick because I know it disgusts him only the idea of it, so I know he'll be bummed, but he won't force himself anymore. I am truly shaken that it has become this way between us.
"I think I will head downstairs to see my schedule for the week. Don't wait up." I tell him and hurry out without looking back as he doesn't even apologise. Jerk!
I get my phone out of my pocket looking for somebody to confide in. I am truly upset and I need to let out some of my steam. My heart is racing out of my chest from the adrenaline I had to fight him off me. I don't know how far he would have gone. Would he have forced himself on me? The truth is, I don't know anymore...
I get inside Nando's and look for Ronnie. I am sure she is closing tonight. She is almost here every night and I know she was off on Friday because of her date with the customer she talked about or something.
The restaurant is closing in half an hour and there are so few customers left, so I feel free to head on the other side of the counter and look for Ronnie. I can't seem to find her anywhere so I really head to see my schedule. I am working five days again this week from five to eleven PM. I don't know how I could have kept up with this hectic lifestyle through all these years. It only now seems like I am knackered of everything, mostly of running and pleasing everyone.
"Grace? You're back from London?" The sweet cook called George asks me. It makes me happy to see a cheerful face. He always has something to say. Despite our ten-year difference, we get along great.
"I am. Have you seen Ronnie?"
"She switched shifts to cover yours. She left at five with a customer it seems. She wouldn't shut up about him." He rolls his eyes, because Ronnie seems to be with a different man every week. For the last two weeks, at least, I think it has been the same man. She is so kind and pretty, I don't blame her.
"Well, you know how she can be." I joke and smile at him. "Thank you, George... I'll try calling her instead."
"Take a table if you want. Here's a glass, maybe you would like to get something to drink." He so kindly offers me as he hands me the tall glass.
"There's no customer in my section. I'll head there for a bit, thank you." I inform him with a forced smile and head to a cozier part of the restaurant.
I fill my glass with grape Sprite and get seated. I let my weight completely collapse on the chair and I hide my face in my palms. I look blankly at the table and run through what happened with Steeve back into my head.
How did my life turn into such a mess? Why am I not still satisfied with what I always had? Why do I need to be wanting more?
All these questions make me think about Ash and it reminds me how I didn't text him all day and I promised him I would. So, when my phone buzzes, I quickly assume it's him. I don't know whether to be happy or not that it isn't.
Marcel.
Mr. Not Wright: Did you get home alright?
Me: I did.
His message makes me smile. It makes me happy to see him care. I know he must, but this is a concrete proof. I want to make sure he knows how much this means to me.
Me: Thanks for making sure.
Mr. Not Wright: No problems.
Mr. Not Wright: Good night.
My heart skips a beat a second and I wonder if I should... I don't know why I get so nervous all of the sudden.
Me: Marcel?
Mr. Not Wright: Oui?
Me: Do you have an idea of when you'll come to Manchester?
Mr. Not Wright: Not yet. Why? Did something happen?
I don't know what to answer him. I am shaking internally from what happened, from how stuck I feel and, secretly, how scared I feel. I really don't understand what is suddenly happening in my life. I wanted to talk to Ronnie about it, but clearly Marcel is the only one in which I could confide in, but is it something I want? He has been very caring and passionate about what is happening to me, but I still don't know him that much. The bond we share is weird, but I genuinely feel this trust for him. I can't really explain it...
Mr. Not Wright: Grace?
I look at my screen without moving. I can't seem to wrap my head around telling him. What could he do for me? Will he at least care? I don't fucking know... I am driving myself crazy.
Mr. Not Wright: You are not alone.
I need to get this out. I am not alone. I don't know how he did that, but he exactly told me what I needed to hear without even knowing it myself.
I get a rush of confidence through me and instead of texting Marcel, I spot the owner of the restaurant from afar getting ready to close. I get up and empty my glass quickly. I walk to George and hand it to him, thanking him for the help he brought me today without even knowing he did.
I take my courage with both hands and ask my boss to talk in his office. He is quite surprised with the time I chose to do something like this. I give him my two-week notice and decide to take both of my vacation weeks from the next so that I don't have to work again after this week.
I know it's very last minute, but the owner is being very supportive of my book and wishes me the greatest success. I got very lucky to have had that reaction from my employer. I thank him profusely and quit the building to walk in the fresh and almost chilly air of the Manchester spring. I have loved working at Nando's and I've loved my boss and his family. they were a huge part of my everyday life for about four years. I'll miss them greatly.
Spontaneously, I decide to call Marcel and to tell him everything. He lets me talk for maybe ten minutes without interrupting me. It charms me, even more when he tries to reassure me. I am blown away with the genuine support I hear through his voice until I hint him what happened earlier with Steeve. We talk for more than half an hour and I see the employees leave and close the restaurant as I go on talking to my friend.
"For a man who doesn't do small talk, you don't seem to be complaining so far." I attempt to joke to lighten the mood.
"I don't, but you seem to be in a need to talk and I respect that. If that's what you need to feel better, I won't complain." He peacefully says through the phone. I smile to myself, continuing on swooning slowly.
"Gentlemanly in everything you do." I remark, getting charmed more and more despite of myself.
"It's the way I was raised."
"I am glad. Thank you so much for picking up at this late hour."
"I don't normally stay up that late."
"I wouldn't have pictured you as an early sleeper..." I chuckle slightly, being genuinely surprised, but a loud silence follows. Shit...
"How would you have pictured me?" He asks slowly, surprising me yet again.
I smile to myself with a stubborn warm feeling blossoming in my belly. Chills run through my body so I head back inside of the building. I pull on my sweater to cover my bum and take a seat on a step at the bottom of the stairs leading to my flat.
"I don't know... I think of you as a very dedicated person. I would have pictured you with your nose in a book or studying until late." I tell him softly, looking at the top of the stairs quickly to make sure Steeve isn't eavesdropping.
"You are not wrong. I was reading when you called." He responds and I hear noises on the other end of the line.
"What were you reading?"
"Ten Little Niggers by Agatha Christie."
"Nice."
"You know it?"
"I read it. Do you like it so far?"
"I do. It isn't the first one of her work I read."
"Have you read Murder On The Orient Express?"
"No."
"It's the best. I am still not over how it ends. It's brilliant."
"I'll check it out." He shortly responds but it makes me smile wide.
"You won't be disappointed." I snuggle into my sweater and shiver again, but I'm not cold, just weirdly happy.
"I'll hold you responsible if I am." I take his word as a joke and bite my lip.
"I think I can live with that." I grin very hard and lean on the wall.
A short silence follows, but it doesn't disturb me. I just don't want this conversation to end. There's something comforting in this calm exchange we share, something I want to cherish, because it hasn't always been the case between us.
"What are you going to do next?" He asks me with a voice empty of emotions, but it somehow comforts me. He is the only one here for me right now.
"Head back home. I'll quit volunteering at the library tomorrow as I go back to College. I'll finish writing my papers and hand them in this week. I have three already done, I just need to revise them, and two halfway there. It won't be long. I can already taste the end. I can already taste freedom."
"Is that how it feels for you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Leaving Steeve is freedom for you?"
I take a moment to consider his question. A very long moment.
"Yes... It's exhausting to constantly have to change who I am in order to please the one you love. Love shouldn't be like that. You should support each other through adversity and the beauty of life, as a team, as each other's everything. It's maybe naive to think so, but since I met you, since I have been in London, I see things differently. I don't content myself with having a life, I want to live my life, the way I want. And it took me London to realise who I truly am."
"I don't think it's naive. I think it's your way to see things and it could never be the wrong way if it's something you truly believe in."
My smile radiates happiness from within. I've never felt understood like that in my life. It feels great. I feel light. I feel... happy.
"I could speak to you for hours, you know that?" I let out without thinking first. It's like he isn't the same person. "I think I have a lot to learn from you."
There's another short silence and I find myself enjoying it. There is so much more to the man than anything he lets on. I am happy to have peeled some of his layers off tonight.
"I think I have lots to learn from you as well, Miss. Hemingway." He whistles in a beautiful chant that spreads shivers through all my body, yet again, but, this time, it can't be from the breezy air outside.
"Thank you for listening to me. I am sorry to have disturbed you. Have yourself a great night." I wish him before it gets awkward or before this special moment gets ruined by one of us.
"I don't mind. Be safe. I will get to you as soon as I can. Sweet dreams, Grace."
***
To: gracyhemmy
From: marcel.wright
Object: Book
Hi Grace,
I am working on designs for the cover of your book. I have sketched a few and worked on your synopsis. Do you have any requests?
Enjoy your day.
Marcel
Monday, 11:23
***
To: marcel.wright
From: gracyhemmy
Object: Re: Book
Hey Marcel,
I trust you with the designs. The ones you like you can show to me and I'll take my pick. What have you decided as a synopsis? Did you write one or did you take a scene directly from the book?
Enjoy yourself as well.
Sincerely,
Grace
Monday, 12:44
***
To: gracyhemmy
From: marcel.wright
Object: Re: Re: Book
Hi Grace,
I feel strongly about four versions of the designs. I'll bring them with me the next time we meet. I wrote something for the back cover, but I am still debating if it's best to have a synopsis. We could send out your story to other established authors to have quotes to put there as well. I'll need your input. I was also considering having your picture at the back of the book. Do you have recent pictures of yourself or should we plan a photoshoot?
Thank you for responding that quickly.
Have a nice day,
Marcel
Monday, 1:56PM
***
To: marcel.wright
From: gracyhemmy
Object: Re: Re: Re: Book
Hello again to you!
I love how formal your emails always are. You could have just texted me the questions. But you are old fashioned, I like that.
How are you, by the way? We have been emailing all day and I haven't asked.
I don't have many pictures of myself that could be of use. I hate to break it to you but I am not the big selfie taker. I have four pictures on my computer that are reasonable. You'll have to crop the rest of my family or Steeve out of them, but I think they could seem alright. If we must, we could plan a photoshoot, but it's up to you.
Do you have an idea of when you'll be in Manchester?
I hope you are having a very nice day.
Sincerely,
Grace
P.S. Have you finished your book? I am excited for you to begin Murder On The Orient Express.
Monday, 4:51PM
***
To: gracyhemmy
From: marcel.wright
Object: Re: Re: Re: Re: Book
Good evening Grace,
I am doing well, thank you. I hope I did I not delay your essay writing with all these emails. Thank you for the pictures, I will look at them more thoroughly another day.
I have worked on the story and written down a list of scenes that we will need to work on together. But for now, focus on your assignments. I will get back to you later this week to let you know when I'll be available to come.
Good night,
Marcel
P.S. I have finished Ten Little Niggers and I have stopped by the library on my way back home from work earlier. I have bought your book. I'll start reading it when I will get to bed.
Monday, 8 :29PM
***
To: marcel.wright
From: gracyhemmy
Object: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Book
Dear Marcel,
I am also doing very well, thank you so much for asking... I am very pleased to know you already got the book.
Since we last met, I have completed the three essays that were already written. I revised them and I will hand them tomorrow. I will probably be done with them Wednesday night or Thursday. I have never been that motivated to do my assignment so soon. I have you to thank for it.
I can't wait to see you.
Sweet dreams and good reading,
Sincerely,
Grace
Monday, 11:09PM
***
I close my flat door, happy with the day I've had, happy with the relationship I have with Marcel. I gather my things ready to go to bed, but my cellphone vibrates. I look at it to reveal a new text message from Marcel. I smile at my screen and collapse lazily on the couch, my feet hurt from working standing so long.
Mr. Not Wright: Hey, I just received your email. Still awake?
Me: I am. I closed Nando's a few minutes ago.
Mr. Not Wright: How are you?
Me: I am so glad you ask, I am doing very good now.
Mr. Not Wright: Now?
Me: Yeah. Don't be so surprised, you actually make me happy. Work has been very knackering, so it's nice to have a nice conversation.
Mr. Not Wright: Thank you.
Me: How are you doing?
Mr. Not Wright: I am good. Weirdly energised for such a late hour.
Me: Surely, it's the company you keep.
Mr. Not Wright: Michelangelo isn't really the chatty type.
Me: I was talking about me. :P
Mr. Not Wright: And I was joking. :P
Me: Better be the book then.
Mr. Not Wright: That must be it. ;)
Me: You are in an expressive mood tonight. You use lots of emojis. I like that.
Mr. Not Wright: I only do it for you.
Me: Well, I am very appreciative of the efforts.
Me: Did you want to say something?
Me: I mean, did you text me for a reason?
Mr. Not Wright: Sorry for wanting to chat.
Me: We can. I want to. I was just curious that's all.
Mr. Not Wright: Well, too late. I better get to sleep now.
Me: If you ever want to chat, text me whenever. I didn't want to upset you.
Mr. Not Wright: You didn't.
Me: Somehow I don't believe you.
Mr. Not Wright: Would you let it go?!
Me: No. I think you should know by now that I am not easily disposable.
Me: I am used to being treated like shit. I have a thick skin. You are not scaring me.
Mr. Not Wright: I am not treating you like shit.
Me: I know, but I won't let you dismiss me like that whenever you are upset. We can sort this out.
Mr. Not Wright: Have you ever been this stubborn?
Me: I could return you the question.
Mr. Not Wright: :P
Me: :)
Mr. Not Wright: In the French culture, it's actually very sexy to have an argument with your partner. It excites the intellect of the other.
Me: Why would they think that?
Mr. Not Wright: They figured out make up sex is the best.
Me: Is that an attempt to let me know that you are flirting with me then?
Mr. Not Wright: No.
Me: I was joking.
Mr. Not Wright: I must get to sleep now.
Me: Good night and sweet dreams, then. It was nice to chat with you today. -xx-
Mr. Not Wright: Same.
***