Lessons in Gravity (Study Abroad #2) (21 page)

Still. This isn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear “fight for love!” and “distance be damned!” and all that
crap
, as Maddie would say.
 

“I know,” I say, my voice a barely audible grumble. “I mean, yeah, Maddie makes me feel like home. But what does that matter when we obviously can’t be together? You’re right, Leo. You’re so right. I was an idiot to fall for her. I just…I couldn’t help it. She’s lovely.”

My advice?
he says.
You have to get over her, Javi. It’s time to move on.

“I know,” I repeat. But I don’t want to move on.

Leo brushes the crumbs off his lap onto the floor—awesome—and grabs the guitar beside the fireplace.

“It is a thing of very great sadness,” he says. “She is great girl, Maddie. I am sad for you. But in other women you will find the lovely. Much time, and you will find the others. Now we practice”—he hands me the guitar—“the music, and then maybe we drink too much cerveza and do the flirting with womens in the disco tonight?”

I sigh, rolling my eyes as I grab the guitar by the neck.

This is going to be a long day.
 

***

Maddie

A few days later

The muscles in my neck and shoulders tense, a pinch I know all too well, as I wait for mom to pick up. The dull blare of each ring echoes in my head.

She didn’t say much in her voicemail; just a quick, “Hey, Maddie, it’s mom, give me a call when you get a chance.” She sounded tired. Defeated.

I work at an especially painful knot in my neck with my fingers. I’ve just spent the past two hours fighting panicked crowds on the Metro on my way to San Pedro. When I arrived, the building was empty. Apparently classes were cancelled earlier this morning on account of a big snowstorm we’re supposed to get today and tomorrow.

Luckily I managed to hail a cab, and now I’m speeding back home, hoping to beat the blizzard.

Having a couple snow days sounds nice in theory. But considering Viv’s already headed across town to shack up at Rafa’s, I’m staring down the barrel of a week trapped inside my apartment with only my semi-nutty señora, her asshole dog Chiquitin, and my ever-increasing anxiety about my thesis for company.

Also, I miss Javier. A lot.

I’m still reeling from that kiss to end all kisses. He said, point blank, that he didn’t want Carmen—he said he wanted
me
. I want to believe him. Oh, how I want to believe I’m the forever girl he’s looking for.

But I’m not. The fairy tale of forever doesn’t exist, at least not for me. After the way I destroyed my parents’ happily ever after, I hardly think I deserve one of my own.

Besides. I have to go back to Atlanta at the end of the semester. My family needs me. How could I possibly find forever with Javier if I only have a few weeks left in Madrid?

It’s only ten thirty A.M. here, meaning it’s still really early back home—four thirty A.M. Who knows what’s up with my parents calling me in the wee hours of the morning. Mom wouldn’t call unless something was wrong. I don’t know what else
could
go wrong, considering my dad tore apart our family and blamed it on me; considering the house I grew up in is for sale because we can’t afford it anymore.

But I’ve learned things can always, always get worse.

She picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, Maddie,” she says.

“Hey, mom,” I reply. The taxi driver slams on the brakes; I brace my hand on the passenger seat headrest. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “Sorry to bug you so early. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d give you a call, check in.”

“No problem. Classes are actually cancelled—they’re calling for a couple inches of snow today and tomorrow. Madrid is like Atlanta. When it snows even the tiniest bit, everything shuts down. I’m on my way home now.”

“How cool is that! A Spanish snow day,” mom says. “Do you and Vivian have any plans? Did your señora buy extra groceries? What if you lose power? Do you have enough wine to keep you warm?”

For a second, I almost smile. She sounds like my old mom, the mom I had before shit hit the fan. She sounds like all moms, with her twenty questions, her proudly shameless desire to know everything and anything. Especially if it has to do with a natural disaster.

“We’ll be fine,” I say. “I have a lot of work to do on my thesis to keep me busy. Remember that dude I was telling you about—the one who got me into the monastery? He also got me permission to take pictures inside the building. I’m hoping to go through those this week.”

“Of
course
I remember that boy. Javier, right? The guitarist? Tell me more— he sounds
very
interesting.”

Well
, I want to say.
He’s not a boy, for starters. He is a handsome-hot man, has his own plane, looks extremely sexy while plucking out tunes on his guitar, and, oh yes, he kissed me like the world was ending the other night and now all I can think about is kissing him again, even though we can’t because I’m fucked up and he wants someone else.

Also I masturbate in the shower to the memory of his body on my body. I wish he was less excellent at touching me—and at guitar, and at conversation, and at making me feel lovely—so I could stop thinking about him already.

“He’s nice,” I say instead. “Really nice. He’s the lead guitarist in a band he started. It’s pretty cool of him to let me tag along and do my research while they play. Anyway—”

“So is he your boyfriend? Are you dating? You haven’t mentioned any boys this semester—not since Rafa.”

“Definitely not my boyfriend,” I say. “I’m not interested in Javier like that. I’m focusing on my thesis, remember? Plus I’m coming home in, what, less than four weeks? It’d be pretty pointless to start a relationship now.”

“Whatever you say,” mom replies. “So is Javier tall? What languages does he—”

“Enough about me,” I say. “Tell me how you are. What are you doing up so early?”

It’s mom’s turn to sigh. When she speaks I can tell she’s trying not to cry. “Couldn’t sleep. I miss you, Madeline.”

“I miss you too, mom.”

“I have some news.”

My stomach does a somersault.
 

“We got an offer on the house.” Her voice cracks. “It’s such a relief, Maddie, knowing we’re able to get out from under this mortgage. But I know how attached you are to the house. I keep thinking about all the memories we shared here, how many times we sang happy birthday around the kitchen table. It’s just—”

The burn behind my eyes is familiar. I’ve felt it often enough this semester. But the pain never lessens.
 

I bite the inside of my cheek, take a warrior breath or two to keep from bursting into sobs. Crying isn’t going to help me, and it certainly isn’t going to help my mom.

Still. She’s right. I am attached to our house. It’s where I grew up. It’s where my brother Kevin stabbed me with a pencil, and we both cried because we thought I’d die of lead poisoning; it’s where we buried the gerbils I had to have but ended up hating because they bit me; it’s where I got my first kiss and read my favorite books and contemplated the mysteries of my teenage universe. I love our house. It’s
home
.

And now home belongs to another family. All because my dad couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

“That’s great,” I manage. “I know it was stressing you out. You don’t need all that space anyway. Now you can buy a sweet bachelorette pad in some swanky building closer to the city.”

“I know, I know,” she replies. “But I haven’t even accepted the offer yet, and already I miss it—the house. Your father is going to shit a brick.”

“Tough titties.” Anger rises in my chest. “It’s his fault we have to sell it in the first place.”

It’s his fault our whole family fell apart.
Or maybe it’s my fault. I don’t know.
 

“Maddie,” mom says.

“Whatever.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “How is he, by the way?”

Mom sighs, a heavy, trembling thing. “He’s not good, Maddie. I think he’s been drinking again. He’s disappeared, he hasn’t showed up for work. He may lose his job.”

I close my eyes and let the tears fall silently down my face.

“I’m sorry to put this on you,” mom says. “But Kevin—he’s too young, and I don’t want to air our dirty laundry in public. I’m sorry, Maddie. I don’t mean to ruin your Spanish snow day like this.”

“It’s all right, mom.” My throat aches with the effort of keeping my voice even. “You need to take care of yourself. Dad…we’ll figure him out later.”

“I’ve tried, Maddie. For years I’ve tried.”

The taxi stops in front of a blue door. It’s starting to sleet, pellets of ice that crackle against the windshield. I glance at the meter. Fourteen euro! I root around in my bag. I hope I have enough cash.

I can’t see through the film of tears that blurs my vision. I shove a twenty euro bill into the driver’s hand and duck out of the car, heart pounding inside my throat.

Our house.
The place where I grew up.

We aren’t going to live there anymore.
 

“Well.” My hands shake as I try to shove my key into the door. “One less thing to worry about—the house, I mean.”

“I’m hoping we’ll close by New Year’s. I’m so ready to move. Move on, you know? I have to admit it’s been a little lonely, living in this big house all by myself.”

It’s freezing inside the lobby. I begin to climb the stairs, careful not to slip on the well-worn marble.
 

The thought of going home for Christmas only to pack up the house makes me feel like dying.
 

This sucks.

Everything fucking
sucks
.

I look up at the door to my señora’s apartment. I can hear Chiquitin pacing, his nails clicking against the parquet floor as he licks his chops. I just know he’s waiting to pounce on me, nip at my heels as I make a run for it to my room.

“Mom,” I say. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay, Maddie. Stay safe in that storm. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I hang up my phone. My throat burns, and so do my eyes. I can’t. I can’t.

I just can’t deal with that dickhead dog today. I can’t pretend to be in a good mood for my señora. I can’t spend the next few days holed up in my tiny bedroom, hiding from them. Alone. Very, very much alone. Thinking about another family living in the house I grew up in. The house I love.

Thinking about Javier.

I turn around and bound down the steps. I need a break. I need a huge glass of wine and a comfy couch I can sit on without worrying I’m going to be attacked by a giant German Shepherd that’s possessed by the devil.

I need to not be alone. I need to be with someone right now. Talk to them.

Talk to
him
.

The idea is there, fully formed in the space of a single, decisive heartbeat. It’s stupid. It makes no sense. I promised myself I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, and I know I am not the girl he needs. We want different things, he and I. He wants the happily ever after I know doesn’t exist—just look at my parents. And the last time I saw him, I ended things on a pretty sour note.

But he understands. He listens.

He’s the only one who can make me feel better.

I cross the lobby, my booted footsteps clipped, and push through the door. I shiver. Squint against the thin grey light.

God, but it’s cold. The air swirls with sleet, a few chunky flakes of snow.

I should probably call him first. But I’m scared he won’t even answer.

I’m even more scared he will answer, and he’ll tell me to never call him again.

The lump in my throat swells. Maybe if I just show up, he’ll at least let me plead for his forgiveness.
 

I look back up at my building. Whether or not Javier hates me, I can’t go back in there.

I head for the Metro.

Chapter 16

Maddie

By some miracle, I only get a little lost on my way to Javier’s. After asking for directions from a twenty-something Madrileña—gorgeous, perfectly put together despite the sub-zero temperature—I find Javier’s place around the corner from a pretty square.

My heart throbs as I press the buzzer for the second time. It hums beneath the pad of my thumb. I step back, looking up at the building’s fashionably battered brick façade, and cross my arms.
 

Please
, I beg.
Please be home.

It’s really snowing now, flakes dampening my eyelashes, making my sore eyes water. The cold has stirred my blood to a frenzy, a painful contrast to the heat that floods my face; it radiates up my shins from the frozen sidewalk, making my knees ache.

I wait. The enormous windows of Javier’s apartment stare back at me, blank, unblinking, their hand-blown panes waving in the fading light.
 

Around me the air is heavy, ominous with the coming storm. The sky darkens, bit by bit, taking on a grey-green tint that can’t be good.