Make Me Bad(Private Lessons)

Chapter Thirteen




Madison





I walk home along the Seine, angry with myself for behaving so childishly. Here I am, trying to have a love affair with an older man and acting like a baby. I’m so embarrassed for how I acted on campus, and then to just show up at Luc’s apartment...could I be more desperate?

To be fair, Luc didn’t seem too upset finding me in his hallway. I honestly didn’t anticipate what happened next. How did I know that Luc was going to start kissing me and push me up against the inside of the door? And of course, I couldn’t stop it, because I always want Luc. And I know this is way more than some silly crush. I think about him non-stop, I crave Luc. I’ve never been addicted to anything, but I imagine that this is how it feels. It's as if I need Luc the way I need air.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” I mumble to myself, realizing that I’ve now crossed over into a new kind of crazy: muttering to myself out on the streets. What I really need is to hear a voice of reason. I need comfort. And I don’t want to be around Cleo right now.

I pull my phone out and dial the number that I’ve known by heart since I was a little girl.

She answers on the first ring.

“Mom!”

“Hi honey. Is everything okay?”

Right. It’s probably around eleven at night.

“No!” I begin to cry, “I’m a mess over here and I just really needed to hear your voice.”

“Oh, Maddie! What’s wrong? I thought you were loving Paris?”

“I do love Paris.” I wail, ducking into a park and finding a private bench, “It’s just that--’’ I trail off. How do I explain to my mother about Luc and how I’m in way over my head? “It’s a guy, Mom.” I sigh.

“Ahh,” she says, knowingly.

Oh, if she only knew.

“What seems to be the trouble, honey? Did you just meet him? You’ve only been there for two weeks.”

My mind moves quickly. “I sort of knew him before, but we’ve gotten closer since we’ve been here.”

“So, he’s part of the study abroad program?”

“Yes.” Technically, Luc is.

“I just can’t figure him out, Mom, and I keep messing up.”

“I doubt you’re messing up. You have a lot going on. You’re in a different city, living somewhere else, studying new things and working on your music. I’m sure you’re just a little overwhelmed.” She pauses and I can tell she’s hesitating.

“What?”

“Well,” she starts, “maybe you don’t have time for a guy right now. I imagine you’re really busy and you should focus on your studies anyway.”

“I’m actually not that busy. Our class load is really light which allows us lots of time to explore the city. Which I am doing,” I say quickly, “but I really like this guy and he’s so hard to read.”

“That’s how all guys are, honey. They're all very hard to read, it's in their genes.”

“Was Daddy hard to read?” I ask stubbornly. I don’t know why I'm bothering to compare Luc to my father.

“That’s different,” she explains.

I know that my father wasn’t hard to read. He and my mother dated when they were kids and reconnected as adults. It was fate.

“But,” she continues, “There were times when I didn’t understand what was going on and thought I was reading too much into things.”

“But were you really reading too much into things?”

She sighs. “No...My hunches were always right.”

“That’s the thing about this guy, Mom. I think am reading into things too much and I don’t want to come off as some needy, desperate girl.”

“Maybe back away a bit. Let him come to you. I know that sounds easier said than done, but don’t make it easy for him. Play the game a bit. Though, I don’t really know much about how to play the game.” She laughs. My mom is right. She really has no experience when it comes to men. It was always only my dad for her.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I admit, not yet feeling great, but feeling a little better.

“Have you thought any more about us coming out to visit?” she asks, changing the subject. “I know we talked about you possibly coming home for Thanksgiving, but we would still love to come see you.”

Now that my mom mentions a visit, it sounds wonderful.

“I don’t think I’m going to come home for Thanksgiving, but I would love for you to visit!”


“All right, let me look over the calendar and we can work something out. Maybe we can come out in two or three weeks, around your halfway point.”

“That would be really great, Mom. I’d love to see you and Daddy.”

“Okay, Sweetie. I’ll look over dates and I’ll get back in touch with you.’’

“All right. Love you, Mom. Thanks for the talk.”

“Anytime. Love you too, Maddie.”

The possibility of my parents visiting lifts my spirits and I head home. Cleo is back in our apartment when I walk in.

“You were gone for a while.” She says, glancing at her watch with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, I walked around for a bit and then I talked to my mom.”

“Oh. How is she?”

“Good. I think my parents are going to come out to visit in a few weeks.”

“That's nice, but I feel like I’ve hardly seen you lately. When do I get to visit you?” she mock whines.

“You’ve been wrapped up with Philippe!” I laugh.

Cleo frowns, pulling at her wavy hair. “I know. I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why I bother spending so much time with him.” She pouts. “It won’t matter when we head back to New York in December.”

I flop on the couch and make a swooning sound. “But it’s a Paris romance.”

Cleo comes over and sits next to me. “And what about you? Don’t you want a Paris romance?”

I shrug. “If it happens, it happens.”

Cleo fixes me with a hard stare and I get the feeling that she suspects something.

“I’m hungry.” I say quickly. “Want to go out to dinner? Just us? Now that you’ve admitted you’ve been up Philippe’s ass.”

She laughs. “Sure! That sounds fun.”