my skin, he made me feel like the story that needed to be told.
But it was a one-night stand. Silly to think of it as anything more. Even if I were someone who was in the market for something real or long-lasting, it would be ridiculous to hedge any bets after just one encounter.
Hendrix didn’t strike me as ridiculous. Or impulsive. Or silly.
Why on earth, then, would he believe that there could be something worth seeking out with me? If that’s what he meant at all. Which...he did, didn’t he?
It’s confusing, and confusion makes me hide, on the whole. But since I can’t hide because I’m the fucking teacher in this class—seriously, how did this happen?—and for some reason the educator is expected to stay present, I find my confusion turning to anger. It works itself through me until the beauty of our night together is cropped out of my memory and what’s left is trite and fleeting. His presence feels nothing like flattery—which it did feel flattering, admittedly, for a half second there in the midst of everything else. Now, though, it just feels invasive and unprofessional and mean.
Perhaps I’d confront him about it, if I were a different sort of person, one who isn’t afraid to stand up to a challenge. One who isn’t afraid to live her life.
But I’m not that sort of person, so after I give out the assignments and send the students on their way, I plan to gather my things and get on my way as soon as possible, so fond of hiding that I am. I was stupid enough to believe—or perhaps hopeful is the better term—that Hendrix would let me do that, as he’d let me leave that night in Paris, not that I’d given him a choice.
He doesn’t, though, of course. Of course. He approaches me, his leather camera bag slung over his shoulder, a man satchel underneath.
“Camilla,” he says in that American accent that makes me both cringe and swoon all at once, and for the briefest of moments I find myself considering something different for a change. I consider staying.
But underneath my long sleeve polo neck, my skin throbs with an intensity that equals the blaring of a car alarm, and I think of Fred waiting for me at home to take him out for ice cream and the dead husband who hurt me as much as he loved me and the ugliness that marks me inside and out. And in the chaos of those thoughts, there is no option to stay.
“You being here is in bad taste,” I say before he has a chance to say anything else. “Don’t do this to me.”
I brush past him then, and with the heat of that brief contact following me in radiating waves, I rush outside to disappear among the Saturday-morning Londoners who are out enjoying the early signs of spring.
Chapter Two
Color: The perceived hue of an object, produced by the manner in which it reflects or emits light into the eye. - MoMA Glossary of Art Terms
I stare at my empty glass, wondering if I should order a second negroni. Wondering if that will be enough to douse the thoughts of Hendrix. I refuse to look at them, but he’s there at the edges of my mind, stirring like the late embers of a fire, or perhaps they’re early embers.
I don’t want them to be. God help me if this is just the beginning of this spiral.
It’s cause to consider that second drink.
But when the bartender passes by, I don’t flag him. Not yet. I will, eventually, because I always do. A trip to the bar is never just a one-drink sort of experience. I suppose that some might say I’m an alcoholic, and maybe I am, though I don’t tend to crave booze in any form, and I can easily go weeks without a drop.
I have other vices that are much more tempting.
And when those temptations become more vivid, when they transform into foes that have me in a wrestling match, pinned to the mat and about to give in, that’s when I find myself sitting in front of some sort of cocktail. It’s not the healthiest distraction, but it tends to work. And when it doesn’t, sex is another useful diversion.
I hate to think of what impression I might give to a stranger who spent a significant amount of time observing these habits of mine. What would be said of me? What conclusions would be drawn? Does