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“That’s not why I’m broken.” I use the sleeve of my black sweater to clean my nose. I don’t even care that I’m a snotty, ugly mess. A wad of clean tissues materializes in my periphery, and I snatch it, dabbing my nose with it without so much as a thank-you. And still, no tears. No tears. No tears.
“Why’re you like this, then?” His voice is patient but not at all emotional.
“Because I can’t blame him.” I look up at Arsène, with his tar-black eyes, hard jawline, imperturbable expression. “I hadn’t delivered on all the things he thought he’d get when he married me. I’m not the woman you saw in Italy. I’m not all sweetness and warmth and peach cobblers. I don’t ... I don’t even know how to make a peach cobbler!”
I throw my hands in the air, then bury my face in them.
“I wasn’t ready for this kind of confession,” he drawls sarcastically. “Should I loop in the feds? Maybe Interpol? This is too big a secret to stay within these walls.”
“Be serious for a second. I’m telling you I’m a huge disappointment.”
“Iamserious,” Arsène says tonelessly. “You’re a complex human being, not a stock he gambled on. If he thought he had a sure bet, he’s the idiot. Not you.”
“Just stop!” I dart up from my seat. Glass crunches beneath my shoe. “Don’t defend me. I’m not that little southern girl Paul had fallen in love with. I’m the bitch who tried to get a job at Calypso Hall—and succeeded—so she can get closer toyou!” Now that the confession is ripped out of my mouth, I can’t stop. “I wanted to meet you, Arsène, because I knew you were a man of resources who could shed some light on what happened between Grace and Paul. I wanted your knowledge, your information, your means. Wanted to use you to get closer to the truth. I knew you owned the place. It was all premeditated. I wanted you to think it wasyouridea to exchange notes. But I only took the job because I needed my hands on this file.” I point to the manila folder.“I’m a manipulative, weak, gross excuse for a woman, and I wanted to use you. I’m selfish, just like you said!”
Rather than look stunned, hurt, annoyed, surprised—any of those things—he smiles that lopsided, worldly smirk of his that makes me crazier than a sprayed roach.
“Why, this is wonderful news, Bumpkin! Drink.” He thrusts his brandy glass in my direction. I gulp half of it in one go.
“The only reason I let you keep your job is because I wanted us to exchange notes,” he continues. “And I always knew you were selfish. You’re human. It’s in the DNA. I just wanted you to own up to it so you can start asking things for yourself.”
“That’s what I mean.” Miserably, I shove the snifter back into his hand. “We’re both deplorable creatures.”
“I prefer resourceful. And I’m sorry to be the one breaking this to you, but you’re not half as cunning and corrupted as you think you are. You taking a job at Calypso Hall hurt absolutely no one. Grace was a million times more shrewd and heartless, and as you can tell, Paul didn’t care one iota. At any rate, in case you need to hear this—you’re still the most wholesome person I’ve ever met in my entire life. Please don’t thank me—I don’t consider it a compliment.” He raises his hand and shakes his head, like I’m a lost cause. “And Istillthink you’re too good for Paul.”
I can’t believe this is almost over. That soon, he’ll come to my place, get into Paul’s office, and find what he’s been looking for (or not), and we’ll never see each other again.
“Paul liked that I was good.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Paul never understood you,” Arsène says bluntly, completely unfazed by the idea of upsetting me further. “He thought of you as a stereotypical southern belle. You were a status symbol, akin to an Italian car, a nice suit. The minute you fell short of hisLittle House on the Prairieidea, he lost interest and moved on. By then, though, you hada ring on your finger, so he figured why not make you the baby maker and go find his true love? I doubt he thought you’d ever catch him.”
This hits too close to home and explains too many things I couldn’t understand about my relationship when Paul was alive.
Taking a deep breath, I collect myself. “Thanks for sharing your unsolicited opinion with me. I think I’ll head back home now. We can arrange for you to come over at—”
“Stay.” It’s an order, not a request, and before I know it, he pulls me to his living room and places me on his couch. I comply, stunned. He tucks his snifter between my fingers and says he’ll be right back. In the sideline of my vision, I see him cleaning the mess I left behind. All the broken glass. I sip the brandy. It rolls down my throat smoothly. After a few moments, Arsène joins me with a snifter of his own.
“Do you think we’ll ever do it?” I ask him but stare down at the bottom of my drink.
“Do what?” he asks.
“Occupy Mars.”
He smirks, recognizing I don’t want to know about the planet—I want to know about my heart.
“I think maybe therewassome type of life on Mars at some point. At any rate, right now it’s too cold, too dusty, and too dry to be hospitable. But this could change. I can see us investing in making artificial habitats and becoming Martians if we really put our minds to it, if wereallytry.” His eyes bore into mine, intense and urgent. When I don’t say anything, he shrugs. “I mean ... not us. Humanity in general. It’ll take some time.”
I nod, nestling inside the silence for a few minutes.
“Tell me what’s in that little head of yours,” he says.
I swallow before I speak.
“I just think it is so symbolic that what brought us together, you and me, was a play that’s all about unrequited love. Because that’s what we’re both experiencing. Think of how it all starts. Nina is courted byKonstantin, who is in love with Masha, who, in turn, is also the object of Medvedenko. No one gets what they want. Everyone’s love life is unfulfilled. Everyone’s unhappy.”
“That’s right, life is a messy business. Living is a lesson in endurance.” Arsène nods. “And endurance is a lesson in humility. The problem with humankind is that everyone wants a simple, comfortable life. But that’s such a terrible existence. How could you ever appreciate the good moments if you haven’t braved the bad ones?
“And,” Arsène continues, watching me as I sip the rest of my drink. “You keep forgetting one thing—Nina survived. She found her way. Sheendured.”
