Wait for Me (7 page)

“He's really just a customer then?” she asked, in the middle of a conversation about the Lorenz equations.

“Who?” Silvy asked.

“Hot guy talking to Sophie in the library.”

Silvy opened her eyes in excitement. “Ah,” she exclaimed. “You kept that one quiet!”

I laughed. “He's just my brother's customer.”

“Judging from your reaction, there's no way he's just a customer. You turned into Jell-O,” Susan remarked. “You should have seen her,” she added to Silvy.

“So?” Silvy asked. “Come on… spill!”

I started laughing at their curiosity. I was back in high school. “I'm telling you, he's just a customer, a really hot one, but there's nothing to it. He lives in front of my brother's parking lot, and he's into hookers.”

Their faces dropped, unsure whether they had heard me correctly.

“He's into hookers?” they asked in unison.

“Yep – on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

“I never would have guessed,” Susan muttered thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, he's essentially just a narcissistic asshole.”

“Oh, like the rest?” Silvy joked.

Susan, still puzzled, snapped back to reality.

“But why would someone like him need to? He could have any girl he wanted with that smile,” she said, bewildered.

“It's obvious – he doesn't want a relationship so it's easier.”

I had a moment of clarity, remembering what he had said during the black out. ‘
I think you want to know why there isn't one specific ‘somebody', and why I see a certain type of woman'.
Simple, he just didn't want commitment.

“Fair enough,” Silvy said.

I was done talking about it. I said goodbye and went to the bus stop to head back home. I was idly sitting on a wall, listening to music on my phone, when he materialized in front of me again. This was becoming an alarming habit. I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply.

“You want a ride?” he asked kindly.

Flustered, I hopped off the wall and answered quickly: “I'd rather not.”

Taken aback, his expression turned a little sour. He stared at me unsurely for a few seconds. “Sophie, it's just a ride. I don't have any ulterior motive. I accept your terms.”

I shook my head, perplexed. I hadn't established any terms – the stakes were self-evident. I was sure that this was obvious.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I thought you hated it when people deliberately misunderstood?”

He gave a charming smile. “It's just a ride. I'm not going to kidnap you.” He was looking at me in a mocking, yet strangely seductive way. I felt like a stubborn child, and this struck me even more than his unsettling presence. He couldn't understand the fear and anxiety that this kind of attention evoked in me.

“I'd rather not.”

He bit his lip and sighed. He was about to say something that would leave me no choice, so I decided to be more specific.

“Listen, it's nothing against you, it's just kind of unsettling to run into you here. I don't believe in coincidences. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I have real issues with people who seem to just show up everywhere.”

His expression became markedly sad.

“I'm not quite clear Sophie, are you suggesting that I'm stalking you?” he asked seriously – resentfully, even.

Why the hell did he keep repeating my name? I resisted the urge to tell him to fuck off.

“No, I'm not, but really, I'll make my own way home. Don't be offended,” I answered, trying to stay calm. I spotted the bus. “The bus is here anyway.” I pointed. “And I like to look at the city.”

“It'll take you an hour by bus. This would be much faster… but as you wish,” he said impatiently. “See you, Sophie.”

“Yeah, see you,” and I hurried towards the M6.

As I took my seat I saw him get back into his car, which was double parked.

‘Balance… common sense, rational decisions and sensible behavior,' I repeated to myself until I got home.

Thanks to the Yankee game, the city was almost devoid of traffic and the hour only took forty minutes. I said hello to my brother and retreated to my hovel. I ate a veggie burger and downloaded the new Sigur Rós album. I sank into my bed with their enchanting melodies until 10 p.m., when Ben and Ester stopped by to say good night. We took a seat in the bus shelter to chat. Ester was excited about her family coming over – she had even found a new flat with an extra bedroom for her little boy. He would be enrolling in school the following year too, so she wanted his English to be up to scratch. Ben was talking about opening a club in Jersey. Both of them were making plans; carving a path forward. And me? Aside from avoiding a certain type of man, what was I doing with myself? Where was I going? After I said goodbye to them, I stayed on the bench to reflect a little. It dawned on me that I was alone, without even the hint of a future plan. A thundering noise brought me back to earth. Two bikers were revving their engines – just in case the whole neighborhood hadn't heard them pull up to the red light. I glared at the oldest, whose white beard almost reached his waist. He smiled. I didn't alter my expression.

“Hey you!” the man said, defiantly.

I kept glaring. “Are you talking to me?” I asked, poised to tell him to go to hell.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Look there.” He pointed to the floor. Curious, I followed his hand.

“You dropped your smile,” he said, and roared his engine a few times. I laughed.

“Thanks,” I said. “Got it.”

“Good girl,” he said with a funny toothless grin.

I returned to the parking lot with my recovered mood, which dropped as soon as I saw Adam sitting on the steps with a crate of beer at his feet.

“Can we have a beer out here? I see you do it every night,” he said, nodding towards the crate. “One beer, Sophie, just one… here outside.”

He took one out with a disarming smile and motioned for me to sit beside him. “I don't bite.”

“Okay.” I would guzzle it down and get rid of him.

We made a toast to the cold night of December 10
^th
and he asked me what I had planned for New Year.

“I'll be here.”

“Does your brother ever let you out?” he joked.

“Only on Wednesdays,” I replied, without thinking.

“Why? Does someone have to keep you out of trouble?” he asked with a wink.

I stiffened. Adam took a sip of beer and stared the ground for a moment, thoughtful.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don't really think you're the type who needs to be kept out of trouble. In fact, you seem like someone who knows what she wants and knows her boundaries, and I can't say I blame you.” Another sip of beer. “If you stick to your boundaries then the rest will take care of itself.”

I watched him, perplexed and impressed by his insight. He was smart. But it begged the question: what about his boundaries? What were they?

“Anyway, how's school?” he asked – an appreciated topic change.

“Good.”

Adam shifted onto the step below me, leaning against the railing and stretching out his legs, one on top of the other.

“What were you studying in the library today?”

“Chaos theory,” I replied, crossing my arms over my knees.

“Sensitive initial conditions, unpredictability and evolution.”

“Exactly,” I affirmed, surprised. “I don't understand it too well, although I grasped that there weren't many rules either.”

“Which context are you looking at? Psychology?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I assume you know Lorenz's butterfly effect?” He opened another beer.

“Kind of.”

“I can explain it, if you want?”

I nodded.

“Alright – according to this theory, the flap of a butterfly's wing in Brazil can set off a hurricane in Texas, meaning that change increases exponentially over time, and can elicit huge change. Applied to psychology, it can be used to explain the instability of a person with a psychological disorder. So we can imagine how the smallest, most seemingly insignificant external event can have catastrophic consequences over time. How what seems like a trivial incident can cause a chain reaction and lead to serious illness. A bit like a house of cards – the slightest touch can tear the whole thing down. Small actions, huge effects.”

As he spoke, I found myself captivated by him. His tone was soothing and he seemed like a completely different person. I wondered if it were just a mask that he wore during the day – a mask in a thousand dollar suit. One detail struck me in particular: the way he held his bottle. He clasped it between his index and middle fingers, covering the rim with his thumb. It was strangely sensual. My mind raced back to Ester's theory, and I soon started wondering about his tongue. His lips were becoming more enticing.

“Does that help at all?” he asked, rousing me from my thoughts.

“Why do you know all of this?”

“I use it in my work.”

I opened a second beer. “Small actions, huge effects,” I muttered, reflecting on it.

“Exactly. If you think about it, everything we do, even the most trivial movement, can have a tremendous impact on others.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“Like at
MOMA
,” he said. I looked at him perplexed. “I felt offended by the bartender; a small action that unconsciously triggered something greater.” A darkness filtered my expression. Adam saw it too. “And like this moment right now. Listen, I want to know what you really think of me.” I smiled, biting my lip. “Really Sophie – I want the honest truth, so that I can understand the problem here. I've been nothing but kind, yet for some reason you've marked my card.”

Did he really want me to say it out loud? It seemed so obvious. He was underestimating me. So, on this occasion, I decided to be blunt and put an end to the incessant flirting. I stood up. Adam remained on the step watching me. Composed, serious… interested.

“I think you're the obsessive type – dominating and manipulative, with commitment problems too.”

His eyes widened and he let out a laugh of surprise. “Very honest, thanks, anything else?”

“You want to sleep with me and you're pursuing it obsessively. I'm your new obsession.” I went to stand on the sidewalk.

“You're painting me as a monster, Sophie,” he said, confounded. “Is that really all you see?”

“Adam, I'm trying to be realistic. I've been with guys like you before – you would offer me the world whilst you tore the ground from under my feet, and I'm really fragile right now.”

“Sophie,” he stood up.

“And please, do me a favor – stop repeating my name all the time,” I said, coolly. Every time it seemed to impale me and I couldn't stand it any longer.

This shocked him.

“Do you know why I go with the women I do, Sophie?” His eyes piercing into me. What the hell did that have to do with anything?

“They keep you disconnected,” I replied on impulse.

“Exactly,” he hissed.

He asked me again what I thought of him.

“I doesn't matter what I think. You're free to do what you want. You said it yourself: know your boundaries. I think you know yours and that's why you confine yourself to these women.”

He nodded and downed his beer. With a firm expression, he stared at me for a few seconds. “Right,” he said.

The conversation was starting to worry me. I knew where it could lead and I was still too weak to resist. Even now, I knew how little it would take… a compliment, a gallant gesture, his hand on my back…

“Look, it's getting late and I need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I'll get out of your way. Thanks for your honesty and for sharing a drink. It was nice of you. And just for the record – you're right”.

“Okay, bye then.”

Adam's eyes cut through me again, as though I had said something terrible. I froze.

“Bye,” he muttered, disappearing across the street with a few long strides.

I locked the door and tested it three times, checked that the main entrance was closed and sealed myself in my bedroom. Even if there was a blackout, I was not moving. That man left a mark on everything he touched and his serpent-like charm ensnared me every time.

There was something about him that lured me in, but equally instilled great fear. After that night, I didn't see him for some time, except over CCTV, accompanied by his women.

In the meantime, the world didn't end and Christmas arrived on time, along with the rest of the holidays. We decided to have Christmas dinner at Miranda's. It was noisy but uneventful – from what I could recall. At midnight, we exchanged gifts: the customary hat and scarf from my mother, five hundred dollars from my brother, a dress from Miranda, and a package from Adam Scott. A book, I guessed, from the wrapping.

“Mr Scott gave it to me yesterday afternoon. He asked me to pass it along to you.”

“What is it?” I asked, confused, although I figured its content.

“Open it, I'm dying to know. He gave me a bottle of champagne as well can you believe?”

Everyone watched curiously as I unwrapped it. I smiled at the cover. It was a book on chaos theory. He had written a note on the inside cover:

“What's the book?” asked Fred.

“It's for my next exam.”

“That's kind of him. How did he know?”

“We talked about it a while ago. I ran into him as I was heading home one night,” I said, avoiding details.

Back at the parking lot, I decided to leave a note on his windshield.

It didn't sound right. I tore it up.