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I cross my arms, acting unmoved. "So what?"
"So what?" he screams, inching closer. "Have you forgotten that it's not just your career you're throwing away but everything your parents and I worked so hard for? You were nothing but a child when I found you. I got you the best training and opened doors for you that even the masters would be jealous of. Now? Now you want to throw it all away?"
"I'm not throwing anything away," I snap. "I just need time to grieve. Why can't you understand that?"
"It's been three weeks, Tatiana! It seems you don't understand!” He starts pacing the room. His hands were no longer passive in his pockets, but gesticulating to drive home his point.
“Your career was just taking off. The buzz is fresh right now. If you don't stay in the papers, all of that would have been for nothing. You would go back to becoming virtually unknown, and in this world, when people lose interest, they lose it for good. You'd become a nobody. Just like you were when I found you."
I recoil at his words, stung by the truth in them. Martin's face flushes with anger and frustration, his voice dripping with contempt.
"You think you can just wallow in your grief forever? That's not how it works. Life goes on, Tatiana, whether you like it or not. And if you refuse to pick up the pieces and move forward, then you're just wasting everything we've worked so hard for."
Tears stream down my face as his words pierce through my heart. I can feel the crushing weight of his disappointment - of my disappointment.
"I just need time to grieve," I say through sobs.
"You're not grieving, though, are you?" he almost shouts, inching closer. "You're hiding away in Philippe Accardo's house,pretending to - I don't know - play wife? True grief is taking your pain and singing about it, showing people what you feel."
My breath catches at the raw emotion in his eyes. I shake my head. "Still, Martin, you can't control my life. My private life is my own." I look at him, hoping he will understand.
"Is it now? You were nothing before I found you, Tatiana. If you don't get your act together, remember, I can end this all for you just as fast as I started it."
I sit frozen, my tears arrested, stunned by Martin's threat. How can he say such a thing? I thought he cared about me, not just as a client but as a friend. Yet his words are cruel and controlling, revealing a side of him I never imagined.
I wait for him to calm down, to come to his senses. But today, it seems, neither of us has a good grip on our emotions.
Martin strides into the center of the room. Then he turns around, looks straight at me, and declares: “I will ruin your career if you don’t clean up your act soon.”
I wrap my arms around myself protectively. I’m speechless. Never, in all the years I’ve been with Martin, have I seen him act like this.
His shoulders drop as if deflated. He looks at me with pain in his eyes. “Fuck, Tatiana, I’m sorry.”
He opens his mouth again but closes it without another word. With a last lingering look, head hanging, he walks to the door and leaves.
I collapse back on the bed, Heartbreak and relief washing over me simultaneously. I was relieved because I’d never seen him this angry, and all that anger was directed at me. I am heartbroken because I don’t know if our friendship can recover from this.
That night, I cried myself to sleep again. My sleep is fitful and interspersed with nightmarish visions. I am caught in a burning house, trying to find a way to escape. The smoke is so thick I can’t breathe. When I look up in my dream, I see it’s not the smoke choking me, but a man with green eyes, his hand wrapped around my throat.
Squeezing. He is saying something, but I don’t understand him. Then I see his mouth forming the words that make me cry out - ‘I will ruin you.’
Finally, as the sun peeks through the curtains, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A light knock on the door awakens me. It’s one of the staff bringing me a tray for lunch. I motion for her to place it at the window. She removes my supper tray, still untouched. When shecloses the door behind her, I slip out of bed, trudging over to the chair by the window.
The coffee mug still lies on the carpet, next to a pile of crumpled clothes and an array of socks. Philippe tries sending his staff to clean and tidy up in here, but I send them away immediately. His patience with me must be wearing thin. I feel ashamed of the mess around me, the mess I’ve become.
Screaming, throwing things, that’s not me. Tears well up. I honestly did not think I was able to shed another tear after yesterday’s highly emotional confrontation with Martin. But he was right about one thing: this has to stop.
I need to start taking care of myself. I look at the breakfast tray. Suddenly, the aroma of coffee is the best I’ve ever had, and the grapes look as ripe and delicious as ever before. I chuckle to myself. This is what locking yourself into your room like a crazy woman can do to you.
I take a tentative bite from a croissant. And again, I tear up. Philippe. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me. He is caring for me so patiently. I could not ask for better. My parents couldn’t hope for better for me. Quickly, I take another bite before the tears overwhelm me again. I swallow the coffee past the lump in my throat.
Taking a few more bites from the different healthy treats, I decide to get to work. Maybe I can’t sort out the mess that is my life quite yet, but I can at least take control of the space around me.
After sorting, folding and tidying up most of the disarray, my body is letting me know it’s time for a break. Just as I sink onto the ottoman at the foot end of the bed, I hear familiar footsteps and a knocking at my door.
I close my eyes, not sure if I can face Martin so soon, but he has already let himself in. This time, he has brought a bouquet of lilies – my mom’s favorite flowers.
