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“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 I still think 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 his Little House on the Prairie idea, he lost interest and moved on. By then, though, you had a 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 there was some 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 we really try.” 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 by Konstantin, 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. She endured.”
“Do you think you’ll ever move on from Grace?” I place my empty snifter on the coffee table. I’m fairly intoxicated by now, having drunk on an empty stomach.
“No.” Arsène is quick in refilling my drink with more brandy. My heart drops, and I realize this confession really and truly hurts my feelings. “I haven’t made any celibacy declarations. And no part of me wants to keep pining for her. But I’m a practical man, and, practically speaking, I don’t think any woman could ever compare.”
