Better Deeds Than Words (Words#2) (20 page)

I’m having trouble focusing. I see you everywhere in my apartment. I can’t even brush my teeth without picturing you sitting on the vanity watching me shave. Have you any idea the self-control I had to muster that morning, especially when you spread your legs, flashing those lacy black panties at me? You’re so tantalizing.

I’ll leave you for tonight. I feel strangely compelled to take a shower before turning in!

I hope to hear from you, but I’ll understand if you can’t write back. I miss you. Good night & sleep tight.

-D

I re-read the email before sending it
. I’ll understand if you can’t write back
. Understand? Of course I’d understand. But I sure as hell wouldn’t be happy about it.

Chapter 13

Many Days

I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
For in a minute there are many days.
(
Romeo and Juliet
, Act III, Scene 5)

B
Y
E
ARLY
A
FTERNOON
O
N
T
UESDAY
, I hadn’t heard anything from Aubrey, and I reconciled myself to the fact that she wouldn’t be responding to my email. There was little I could do but take my cues from her and be respectful of her wishes. Of course, that didn’t stop me from leaping for my phone every time it vibrated.

After several of these Pavlovian episodes, none of which resulted in a message from Aubrey, my response time began to lag. I returned to my marking, taking up residence at the dining room table. I was about to start in on Neil Hammond’s test when my phone buzzed. I reached for it calmly, telling myself not to get my hopes up, when there it was—an email from someone called “Miss_V.” I opened it hurriedly.

From: Miss_V
To: Jung Willman
Date: Tues, Mar 24, 3:32:44 PM
Subject: Two can play at that game…

Hey, sailor,

I’m not sure if you’ll be surprised to hear from me. I was thinking about your email during my French lecture, and I decided to come home and open this new account. Using it feels safer for some reason. Is it naïve of me to think that? I can’t bring myself to cut off all communication. I’m afraid that if we don’t have some sort of contact, I won’t be able to keep my promise. I guess I’m bending the rules on the smaller stuff so I won’t screw up on the big stuff. I don’t know if that means I’m a bad person, but, if so, I suppose I’ll have to accept that judgment.

You don’t need to worry—your father was fine after you left yesterday. He didn’t say, “Go shout from the rooftops that you want to be together,” but he wasn’t nasty to me. We actually talked more about his new position (he’s excited as hell, just so you know) and what would happen if he got the job, because it’ll mean I’ll end up working for someone else. I’m not too happy about that, but I need the money to repay my parents.

I suppose I should tell you why I owe them so much money. I know I told you a while ago that I was planning a trip overseas in the summer, but I don’t expect you to remember that. My mom badgered my dad for some cash, and she went ahead and booked my flight to Europe for the end of July. She said she was afraid that if she left it to me, I’d decide not to do it at all. She knows me so well. So, now I owe them both money. I have some saved, but not nearly enough.

I know you’re rolling your eyes, money bags.

Yes, I went for coffee with Jul. Got her up to speed and heard all about her weekend with J. I was insanely jealous and have been thinking non-stop about the time we spent together last week. If I close my eyes and really concentrate, I can taste your lips. You are the most fucktacular kisser (yes, I made that word up—zip it, Professor!). Nothing beats the feeling of your tongue teasing mine—at least nothing yet—and I look forward to all of the other things that’ll feel even better.

Okay, I’m going to stop rambling and head to the library to work on my paper. Matt’s girlfriend is coming over—the lovebirds need some privacy, and if I keep on fantasizing about you, I may need some privacy of my own! Self-employment truly does suck big time.

I miss you like crazy. Please write back if you get a chance. Reading over Romeo and Juliet again last night, I saw so many lines in a totally different light. For example, Juliet’s words, “I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days,” have a completely different meaning to me now. Was Shakespeare not the most brilliant man?

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, even if it is from fifteen feet away.

Definitely your poppet
xo

That was all it took to go from dejected to overjoyed just like that. I re-read it, smiling stupidly and so relieved. She’d sounded good—playful and upbeat. And this summer trip to Europe—what was that all about? It sounded like it might coincide very nicely with Brad and Penny’s wedding. Did I dare hope?

I should have turned my attention back to Neil Hammond’s test, but Neil was long forgotten. Instead, I clicked “reply.”

After one of the longest weeks of my life, Friday finally arrived with the promise of an extra hour in Aubrey’s company. Although she’d been true to her word, writing to me every day and insisting on a reply from me, I still sensed that she’d been trying to restrain herself. I’d done nothing of the sort, sending three emails for every one that I received from her. My behavior was bordering on pathetic, but I missed her so much and couldn’t help myself.

Today’s tutorial would be very different from the one we’d had two weeks ago. I was certain I’d never be able to read
Antony and Cleopatra
or
Othello
again without feeling physically ill.

I scanned the group assembled around the three tables, quickly checking off attendance in my notebook. Aubrey and Julie were sitting at the table opposite mine. Aubrey was tapping her feet. Was she anxious? Excited? I smiled and got the session underway.

“Sorry about last week, though I suppose you were happy to have some down time after your test. I gather you all picked up a copy of the sonnet assignment from Professor Brown?”

“Uh, yeah, can I grab another one? I lost mine.”

Vince Costa. Not surprising. His test had been a meandering stream of consciousness. The ideas weren’t bad, but organization was clearly not his strong suit.

I pulled an extra from my bag and handed it to Trina Collins to pass down to him. I looked up and down the tables. “Any questions about that assignment before we talk about
Romeo and Juliet
?”

Vince quickly scanned the paper. “Um, why is the mark split into two parts?”
Just read the damn sheet properly, you stooge
.

“I’ll be assessing the first part. It’ll be a conference,” I clarified. “You’ll read the sonnet out loud and go through your analysis, I’ll ask you a few questions—help you to tighten up your examination of the poem—then you’ll be on your own to write your analysis for Professor Brown. Make sense?”

“Okay, yeah. Cool, thanks.”

“Don’t forget the
Much Ado
live performance is next week, so if you didn’t do the
Hamlet
piece, you’ll have to select one of those days for viewing. I have a quick meeting with Professor Brown after tutorial to go over the tests from last week, but I imagine you’ll get them back on Monday. So, let’s take a look at
Romeo and Juliet.
Here’s what I’d like you to do today: jot down the one thing about the play that frustrates you the most.”

“Do we have to narrow it down to one thing?” Trina asked.

I laughed. “As difficult as that might be, yes.”

I watched as everyone thought briefly and started writing. After a few minutes, everyone seemed to have something down.

“All right,” I said. “Who’d like to start?”

Julie put up her hand. “For me, it’s the behavior of the adults in the play. Everything they do is so ridiculous.”

“Anything specific?” I prodded.

“A lot of things. Juliet’s father threatening to kick her out if she doesn’t marry the guy he’s picked? That’s insane. And the friar with the potion? What a nut. I can almost see the logic in her leaving temporarily to avoid marrying Paris, but pretending to be dead? That’s loco.”

“So, what’s the reasoning behind those characterizations and decisions?” I asked, throwing the question out to the table.

“To isolate Romeo and Juliet and make their situation really desperate?” Trina said. “Right from the first page, the feud sets up the catastrophe. Their parents probably don’t even know what they’re fighting about anymore. I think Julie’s right. The adults fail them miserably.”

“Excellent points, both of you. I agree. Romeo and Juliet are certainly victims of the constraints of society and of their parents’ expectations.”

Why do all roads lead back there?

“What else drives you crazy?”

Aubrey leaned forward slightly. “The coincidences. It’s like everything is conspiring against them. It’s so frustrating to watch.”

I sat back as a lively conversation broke out, everyone talking over each other.

“Oh, I know! Like he hears she’s dead from someone who’s seen the funeral procession…”

“Right! And he just
happens
to know of a guy who sells poison right when he’s all suicidal…”

“And the friar guy, the other friar? How he can’t send the letter because of the plague…”

“The worst is when Romeo takes the poison seconds before she wakes up. Did you see the Leonardo DiCaprio version, where she wakes up and looks at him and he’s not dead yet, but he knows he’s about to die any second? Man, that’s brutal.”

“Oh, I know, right? I love that movie.” Cara sighed.

Why was I not surprised that Cara’s understanding of
Romeo and Juliet
was tied to a film adaptation of the play? I held up my hands to regain control of the group. “Okay, okay! So, based on what I just heard, it’s fair to say the coincidences ruffle a lot of feathers, yes? How do we justify Shakespeare’s use of coincidence in the play?”

Aubrey looked around the table. “He’s demonstrating the power of destiny. Nothing can go right for them because their stars aren’t aligned. They’re victims of a force more powerful than their love.”

“Absolutely, Miss Price,” I said. “The smallest events, the most seemingly insignificant things”—
a lost glove, for instance
—“can thwart our hopes. Destroy everything.”

“It makes me wonder what they would have been like together if things had worked out,” Trina said. “Once they got to know each other, they might not have even liked one another.”

Lindsay frowned. “How long did they know each other before they got married?”

“Not even twenty-four hours,” I told her.

“Really? That
is
kind of crazy,” Lindsay said.

“Like anyone would fall in love that fast. It’s the whole clichéd love-at-first-sight bit, right?” Vince said.

“So, you don’t believe in love at first sight?” I asked him.

“What, you
do?”
Shawn piped up.

I tapped my pen for a second. On the spot again. I could tell him my opinion on the matter was irrelevant, but I decided to pursue the question.

“I suppose that depends on a number of factors, not the least of which is knowing yourself well enough to understand what type of person you’re looking for,” I said. “If you know which qualities you admire most in someone, you’re more likely to recognize that person when you meet her…or him. I prefer to call it
recognition
at first sight.”