Make Me Bad(Private Lessons)

Chapter Ten




Luc





I watch Madison leave, and then I can’t help but move to the window and watch her walk out of the building. She looks beautiful walking candidly out onto the street and I watch her until she disappears around the corner.

I sigh and sit back down, feeling the melancholy creep over me, prompting me to take my medicine. I wash one of my pills down with the remnants of my coffee. It’s been nearly five months since my last depressive episode, and two years since I’ve had a manic episode…I've always been more prone to the depressions than the highs.

I can already feel myself needing Madison and that worries me. I don’t want to rely on her too much, because I know that will scare her and that could definitely trigger a depressive episode. I need to be very careful with Madison for a number of reasons.

I walk back into the bedroom and see the rumpled sheets where Madison and I spent most of the night. I walk to them, trailing my hands along the material, remembering the way Madison felt as I slid inside her.

F*ck. I need to get out of here or else I’m going to spend the day festering in my apartment, daydreaming of her. And that will only make my need for her grow. I go into the bathroom to shower, and twenty minutes later, I hit the streets.

It’s not as chilly as it has been recently and I walk for miles and miles all over the city, not paying attention to the time. I should make some friends while I’m here, or at least touch base with some old acquaintances I believe may still live here.

But that takes time and energy, and I don’t feel like exhausting either.

As if the universe has heard my thoughts, I suddenly hear a female voice behind me.

“Jean-Luc?”

It takes me a split second before I turn around, so rarely am I called by my full name. In fact, not many people know that Jean-Luc is my full name.

“Yes?”

The woman behind me is clearly French; I can tell from the way she’s dressed and the way she seems so effortlessly comfortable on the streets. She’s about my age, and very beautiful. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

I study her again. “I’m so sorry. You look familiar but I can’t place your face.”

She laughs. “That is fine. It has been a very long time.”

I wait for her to fill me in, and she smiles again, pushing her dark red hair out of her pale face. “I’m Juliette. My father, Francois, and your mother were friends.”

Yes! Juliette! I hadn’t seen her in at least ten years; not since the last time that I had come to France with my mother. Juliette’s father had been like a brother to my mom, and he always helped take care of her in some way whenever we came to visit. I always believed he’d secretly been in love with my mother, but that was neither here nor there.

“Yes!” I exclaim, “I remember now. Please forgive my terrible memory!”

She laughs brightly. “No worries! I’m a bit of an idiot savant when it comes to faces and names.”

“Would you like to get a cappuccino and catch-up?” I ask politely, motioning to a small shop across the street. I don’t want to be rude and it would be nice to catch up with Juliette. After all, I had just been considering getting in touch with people from my past.

“Why, yes! That would be lovely!”

She follows me across the street, her stylish boots clicking across the pavement. We duck inside, and the aroma of baking bread and chocolate greets us.

“Mmmm.” she says inhaling, “I never tire of all the little shops in Paris.”

“You don’t live in the city?”

“Oh no. I live an hour outside the city in Montargis, but I’m usually in town every few weeks or so.”

I nod. We order at the counter and I pay for our things. She thanks me, and we find a table tucked in the back of the cafe.

“So, how have you been? If memory serves me right, it’s been at least ten years since I saw you last.” I say.

She nods, sipping her cappuccino. “Yes. It’s been about that long.” She’s quiet for a moment. “That was the last time we saw your mother.”

I nod. My mother died the year following our last visit to France. I wonder if she had somehow known she wasn’t going to be around much longer. She had been adamant about us going to France to see all of her friends and family that year—even though we had no money to do so. It was as if she had planned her farewell trip and I'd missed all the signs.

“I got married.” I glance at her finger, but there’s no ring. She laughs. “And divorced. I have two beautiful girls though. Sophia and Monique. They’re eight and six. I own a jewelry boutique, which is why I come into the city a lot. Many of my artisans and dealers are located here.” She pauses. “I know a bit about you.” she admits, “I’ve loosely followed your career.”

Strangely, I’m flattered that this woman from my past has paid attention to what I’ve done over the years.

“Yes, well, I’ve had some success.” I don’t want to come off too cocky. “Aside from composing music and some recording, I’m now an adjunct member of New York University. That’s actually what brings me to Paris. I’m an advisor for a group of students studying abroad this semester, and teaching a couple of classes at the NYU Paris campus.”

She smiles. “And personally?”

I suppose I can’t avoid it. “Well, like you I was married…and divorced.”


She smiles sadly. “Children?”

I shake my head. “I wouldn’t exactly call my ex-wife the maternal type.”

“Such a shame. My girls were the best things that came out of my marriage.”

I don’t have a response so I don’t say anything. I don’t admit that regardless of Vera's ice-covered heart, I can’t picture myself as a father, or that I run the risk of passing down my nasty mental illness. Somehow, these tidbits don’t seem fit for this little chitchat.

“So, if you’re only here with your students,” Juliette begins, coyly running her hand through her hair, “you must not have much of a social life. How long are you in Paris?”

I shift awkwardly. Juliette is undeniably attractive, but I think back to Madison and how much it would hurt her if she found me here now.

“I have a few friends here.” I lie, not wanting to admit that my social activities have been filled with twenty-one year olds. “I’m here until mid-December.”

“Ah!” she cries happily, clapping her hands together. “Then we must get together! And perhaps you can come visit me in Montargis when my girls are with their father. It’s a beautiful town.”

“Yes, perhaps.”

“I’ll actually be in the city again on Friday. I have a meeting with a new designer. Should we grab lunch then?”

I don’t want to be rude and Juliette is friendly enough, though from the way she’s trailing her lacquered fingernails along her collarbone and playing with her hair, I’m certain she’s flirting with me. It’s not as if Madison and I are exclusive.

“Yes, I’d love to do lunch. I teach in the morning on Friday, so that would work out well.”

“Perfect!” She pulls a business card out of her purse, and turns it over to the back. She scrawls the name of a restaurant and address on it. “Here’s my card so you have my number, and on the back is an amazing little place where we can meet. Say one o’clock?”

“One o’clock,” I confirm.

“Wonderful!” She rises. “I’m sorry to hurry out, but I need to pick up my girls.”

“Of course.” I stand and embrace her, giving her the requisite kiss on each cheek.

“See you Friday!” she calls, as she waves and exits the shop.

I’m not quite sure what I’ve gotten myself into, but I watch her walk down the street before I leave the shop.

It’s late in the afternoon now, and I make my way back to my apartment, thinking about Juliette and her girls. I try to imagine what it would have been like if Vera and I had children.

I shudder at the thought.

Vera would have made a terrible mother, and I’m fairly certain, I would have made a terrible father as well.