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Authors: Katharine Grubb

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Comedy, #Fiction & Literature

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BOOK: Falling for Your Madness
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Brady threw a pass to Gronkowski who ran for forty yards. We all cheered. By the time the play was over and the game had gone to a commercial, I realized that David had taken his plate from me again. He wasn’t in the living room.

 

I found David in the kitchen, sitting at the table, with the apron on, eating his food with a knife and a fork.

 

He stood when I entered the room. “I’m so very sorry, Laura. If you don’t mind, I’ll finish my meal in here and join you in a minute. The battle between me and this food is still raging, and I’ve decided a fork and flat surface is the best strategy for victory. You don’t mind, do you?”

 

He looked very funny. He still had the flour in his hair and now the apron was on
over
his jacket. “No. I don’t mind. But I don’t want you to miss too much. You have to root for the Pats with me.”

 

“I’ll do anything you ask.”

 

Russ came into the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator. David finished and brought his plate to the sink. “Russ? Do you know where I might find a broom and dustpan?”

 

“Don’t bother. Let the girls handle it.”

 

“I should at least sweep the floor. I made quite a mess.”

 

“Sit down. Enjoy the game. Dude, you’re making me look bad.”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t help that. I had a great deal of trouble controlling the flour.”

 

Ruby entered the kitchen. “If he wants to help, let him. Who made you the boss?”

 

Russ slammed the refrigerator door. “I’m so sorry that I’m not as perfect as Mr. Wonderful over here.”

 

“He’s not perfect, but he tries. That’s more than I can say for you.”

 

Ruby and Russ were in each other’s faces. They were blocking David in. He was trapped at the sink, and he looked panicked, as if he were required to make more tortillas.

 

Russ yelled. “What do you want from me? You said come over and watch the game and you’d cook. So I came over to watch the game and you cooked. I brought beer. I didn’t have to. You didn’t ask me to. But I did.”

 

Ruby yelled back. “Why is it always about doing the bare minimum? Why can’t you surprise with a little extra something?”

 

“I can’t read your mind. What do you want? Flowers? I thought we were past that flower stage.”

 

Their argument was so loud it drowned out the television. I wanted David out of there, but I knew that he was too much of a gentleman to interrupt. All of my friends stared in disbelief at Ruby’s and Russ’s behavior.

 

Ruby shrieked. “There’s a
stage
? Really? Clear indicators of where we are? I didn’t know this. I didn’t get a memo.”

 

“Cute. Real cute. You want me to tell you, again, where we are. We’re here. Together. Isn’t that enough?”

 

“No! It’s not. Maybe it was a month ago, but it’s not anymore.”

 

“You want to be my girlfriend, then you know what to do.”

 

“It always comes down to that for you. Doesn’t it?”

 

“What’s so wrong with that?”

 

“Everything! Is that how you see me? Is that what you think I’m around here for? I don’t want a boyfriend who has conditions. You know what? I don’t want a boyfriend who thinks it’s beneath him to be a gentleman. You know, I don’t want a boyfriend who can’t come out and say what I am to him. You know …”

 

“Conditions? Really? That’s your argument here? You want me to be a gentleman, and you don’t want me to tell you what to do? You’re a hypocrite. Maybe I’d be gentleman if I thought you deserved it.”

 

Ruby seemed to grow a foot taller. “Oh I deserve it. Believe me I do. I deserved it long before you entered my life, and I’ll deserve it long after you’re gone.”

 

“Let me cut you off right there. You better choose now, baby. You either get this chivalry garbage out of your head or I’m leaving.”

 

Ruby flung open the apartment door. “Here’s the door.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

“You shouldn’t be surprised that I didn’t have to think about it.”

 

“I just thought …”

 

“That’s what you get for thinking.”

 

“Can I stay and watch the game?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Get my beer?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Fine. Have it your way.” Russ picked up his jacket and left. Ruby slammed the door behind him.

 

It was so quiet you could hear everyone breathing.

 

I didn’t know what to do. I looked to David.

 

David took three steps toward Ruby. “I’m very sorry. I hope that I didn’t …”

 

She snapped at him. “Just get out of my face.”

 

I gasped. “Ruby, David’s just trying to …”

 

“Just shut up. I don’t need you either. In fact, I don’t want to hear it. Keep your perfect little romance to yourselves. Do you understand me?”

 

I felt a chill. “Yes, but I …”

 

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear another word from you
ever again
.” Ruby stomped to her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday, October 7, 2012

332 Babcock Street

Brookline, Massachusetts

7:05 p.m.

 

The game was over. My friends were leaving.

 

Ruby had stayed in her room for the whole game. Erin and Jessie had tried to talk to her, but she had ignored them. The guys had tried to do their best to remind us that she was overreacting.
She was a woman. Women did this.
They had said she’d calm down and come out when she was ready. They had meant well, but it was the wrong thing to say.

 

David had finally took off his apron and sat on the floor. I was next to him on the couch. He had held my hand all through the game.

 

None of us were as interested in the game as we had been in the beginning. Instead, we, the girls especially, had tried to talk about other things. Like Katie’s plan to move in with Ryan after the first of the year. Erin and her boyfriend were going to spend Columbus Day weekend at a bed and breakfast in Vermont. Jessie and her boyfriend were big
Fringe
fans, and they had talked about how it was their ritual, a cozy one at that, to watch it together in her apartment every week.

 

I had felt my shoulders tense up. I had looked at David during these conversations, and he had smiled at me. He had asked me if he had still had flour on his face. I had said no.

 

“Then what is it that’s bothering you?”

 

“Let’s talk later.” I had no idea what I was going to say.

 

David had helped me say good-bye to everyone. Just about the time I had thought,
Hey! We’re alone! I can finally talk to him!
,
he had stood on our front sidewalk and whistled for Merle. The car had been outside our apartment for hours.

 

“Now, Laura. Merle is going to clean up while we sit and talk. I think we need this.”

 

“I am?” Merle grimaced.

 

“You are. That’s an order.” David took my hand and led me to the couch. “Sit here with me?”

 

We sat down, and I realized that this was the first time all evening that David was comfortable.

 

He held my hand. His fingers were intertwined with mine.

 

“I want you to know that I am fully aware of the sacrifices you are making to be my sweetheart. The demands I put on you will make you uncomfortable at times. I think Ruby’s trouble with Russ is because of me.”

 

I squeezed his hand. He knew what was bothering me. I couldn’t say anything.

 

“I am quite used to being the oddball. I imagine you are not. I wish I could make it easier for you.”

 

“Oh David.” I sighed. “During the game I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself that everything is so different with you. My other boyfriends would …”

 

He held up his hand. “Please, I don’t want to know details. I am going to presume there was only one sweetheart before me, two at the most. You are a lady to me. Unless you plan on emphasizing that, do not tell me anything about your past. I will not tolerate anything that diminishes you or taints you in any way, whether it is true or not.”

 

I was taken aback. How do I respond to that? “Okay then, how do I say this? I’m used to seeing people in relationships who have far fewer rules. What you and I have is so
not
expected. It’s so weird. This is
hard.
My friends all were so jealous of me in the beginning, the way you brought me flowers and held open the door. Everybody wanted to hear the romantic details until it became so obvious that my boyfriend was better than theirs. And I
hate
the teasing. When I see couples together, I hear the giggling, I see them all over each other, I hear about the big plans, and tonight I wished it was like that with you. I wished it
could
be like that with you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t complain. You are so sweet and good. But yeah. It upsets me. Please don’t get angry with me, but sometimes I wish you were normal.”

 

He was quiet.

 

“Do you know the story of Tithonus?”

 

“Is this another lesson, Professor?”

 

“Yes. Wait, no, Tithonus won’t do. Maybe the Lady of Shalott would be better. As you know, there is no perfect metaphor.”

 

“Please don’t change the subject to poetry.”

 

“But it’s very applicable to what you are going through. Tithonus was granted immortality, but he didn’t realize that he should have asked to stay forever young, because his body still grew older. He didn’t count the cost of it. He was so miserable that the goddess of the dawn, Eos, turned him into a cricket. The Lady of Shalott had it just as bad. She was trapped in a tower, weaving a tapestry, and was only allowed to look outside through a looking glass. Then she broke the rules and caught sight of that scoundrel Lancelot and was condemned to misery. You haven’t done the reading, have you?”

 

“No.” It was hard to stay patient with him. “I don’t see the connection at all.”

 

“They have something in common with you. They didn’t realize that there was a price to be paid here. My sweethearts always come to this point where they have to decide if it is worth it to stay with me. Both of those poems end in tragedy. If I get to write ours, it will be the happiest of endings. But I digress. The point is that you will have to decide if I am worth it.” He looked nervous. “I am used to having conversations like this one. I understand.”

 

I didn’t want to cause him pain. “This must be very hard to face.”

 

“Not quite as hard as making tortillas. But yes, it is.” David squeezed my hands. “You’ve sacrificed so much for me. I see it in your face. I can tell you want to be like them. I can tell you aren’t thrilled with my lack of football knowledge or my battles with Mexican food. The rules, tonight, were not very attractive. May I remind you of what you do have?”

 

I nodded.

 

“You have complete control. Your girlfriends don’t. You have a guarantee that I won’t dump you or cheat on you or get you in trouble. I hope their sweethearts can say the same.”

 

“I have flowers.”

 

“You do. Every time I see you.”

 

“And I have Tennyson.”

 

“Can’t live without him.”

 

“I have standing plans with you that don’t change. I know how upset they get when their boyfriends bail on them.”

 

“I keep my promises.”

 

“And I know you want to marry me. That’s exciting, even if I’m not ready yet to think about it.”

 

“I’m more and more convinced of it every day. I think you’re worth it. I’ve thought so since our first lunch. I know you’re a levelheaded girl and possessions don’t impress you, but I have to tell you, my grandmother’s ring is spectacular. And like Mr. Manning, I’m tall, I’m funny, and I have a cute accent. What else would you like? I will give it to you if it is within the rules.”

 

I felt myself blushing.

 

“There is something, isn’t there?”

 

“I’m not sure I want to say.” I felt so bashful all of a sudden. This was a new feeling.

 

He pulled me close and whispered in my ear. “Tell me.”

 

I bit my lip. “At what point do I get to sit on your lap?”

 

“Oh! You want to sit on my lap?” His eyes lit up. With his finger, he touched my earlobe and ran it down my jawline. “Hmm, I haven’t thought about that. Sitting on my lap. Let’s see.” He laughed, and his face turned red.

 

“It’s okay if I have to wait. I’ll understand.”

 

“I’m still thinking. It’s definitely in the fiancée camp, but could it be sweetheart territory too?” He put his hand on my knee. “I’ll have to bring it before the rules committee. Trust me, I’ll argue passionately for this piece of legislation. It won’t help your case that my trousers and tie are stained.”

 

“Oh! Listen! You don’t ever have to eat like that again. I know how difficult that was for you! I promise.”

 

“That’s awfully kind of you to say so. I would eat with my hands tied behind my back every day for the rest of my life if it pleased you, but truthfully, I’d rather sit at a table and use a knife and fork like a civilized person.”

 

I kissed him. “I’m glad we had this talk. I’m really glad you’re my sweetheart.”

 

“I’m sorry. What did you say? I’m still imagining you sitting on my lap.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and rubbed my back.

 

I was suddenly aware that Merle had finished cleaning up. It wouldn’t have taken much for either David or me to break the rules right then. “Maybe you’re not so weird after all. Now come and kiss me goodnight out on the sidewalk, as a gentleman should.”

 

“Yes, Laura. Anything for you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Arnold Arboretum

Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts

8:45 a.m.

 

“David?”

 

“You look sad. Is something wrong?”

 

Merle had just dropped us off at the Bussey Street entrance of the Arboretum. It was Saturday, our walking day. The sky was blue, and the air was crisp and clear. Perfect.

 

“You didn’t bring me any flowers.”

 

He broke out into a devilish smile. “I was hoping you would notice that. It’s October. There is no flower in the world that can compare to the jewels of New England autumn leaves. By the time you leave me today, you’ll have a bouquet of them worthy of a queen.”

 

Of course he did exactly what he said he would do. We walked the length of the north side of the park, all the way to the maple collection. At that point, there are dozens of species of maples from all over the world, and their October brilliance is dazzling. The canopies of oranges and yellows and red, and every nuance in between, made that particular spot enchanting and romantic. I was happy to be with him and get my mind off Ruby. She hadn’t spoken to me in a week.

 

We sat down on a bench, and I snuggled up next to him. “My turn for a question.”

 

“Yes, you in the front, the one with the adorable nose.”

 

I giggled. “You have told me almost everything about you. You have told me that every morning you have tea, poached eggs, bacon, and toast for breakfast. I know exactly when you arrive at BC. I know when your office hours are and when your classes meet. I know that you often eat lunch with Merle so that you can squeeze in a chess game.”

 

“Except on Wednesdays.”

 

“Except on Wednesdays. I also know that you spend your afternoons grading, reading, and talking with students and colleagues. I know exactly when you leave the campus to go home and gather your things, eat, and drive to Bartitsu and fencing. I know that this afternoon, Merle will take you to Dover, and you’ll ride. Some Saturday nights you practice fencing. I know you call your father every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday at five. I know that you always say at ten p.m. that you’re going to bed, but you really read until eleven. But …”

 

“But … ?”

 

“You’ve never told me what you do on Sunday morning. Not that I suspect anything. I’m assuming you’re sleeping in, but seems out of character.”

 

“I do what I have done every Sunday since infancy. I do what every civilized being on this planet should do. I go to church.”

 

“Church? Oh. Why?” I was embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of this.

 

“Church attendance on Sunday is a ballast for the week. It is, at the very least, a reminder that no matter who I may be in the eyes of men, I am but mere dust before the eyes of God. Queen Victoria understood this. She often cited 1 Corinthians 1:26,
For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called.
Did you catch that, Laura? Not many noble. God rarely seeks the company of kings. This verse keeps me awake at night. That’s why I think church attendance is critical for men who see themselves as leaders.”

 

I had a feeling we were starting another lecture. I squeezed in a little closer and got comfortable. I knew I’d be there a while.

 

He continued. “Modern day students of history often look at the kings of old and conclude that they were a bunch of bullies who pushed everybody around. It is true, they did. They were but fallen men. Modern students think that because we’ve discarded the feudal system that we are morally superior. I would like to take the position that free Americans, who now have been steeped in democracy for several generations, have lost something precious. That something is the concept of
lordship.
Laura, are you with me? Don’t fall asleep, dear.”

 

“I’m right here.”

 

“Good. All of this will be on the test. You really should be taking notes. Where were we? Oh, yes. Everybody has a boss, even kings. If you hold to the main teachings of Western civilization, namely the Judeo-Christian tradition, you will see that God Almighty, Y’shuah, Jehovah, is Lord of All. He judges the peasant and the noble. He wrote himself,
to whom much has been given, much will be required.
Perhaps one of the reasons why it is proper to bow before a king is because his burden to be just and wise is so much larger than that of a common man. If you look closely at the progressive circles in Dante’s
Inferno
, you will see—and you did do the reading, didn’t you, Laura?—that it is, in essence, a punishment for those who abuse what God has given them. The punishments are the most severe for those who have great power and do not carry it with reverence but use it for harm, especially on the weak and lovely. Do you know what makes the young men hate me in my classes?”

 

“All the reading?”

 

“No, silly, they love the reading. No, it’s the suggestion that men will be held to higher standards on Judgment Day than women. Naturally, they whine and complain about that because they are spoiled Americans who think that
everything
should be fair. Generally speaking, men have been given a physical, political, and economic strength that,
generally speaking
, has not been given to women. Almost without fail when I say this, the women in my classes stand up and cheer. I have them eating out of my hand.”

 

I giggled. “You love that.”

 

“I have to say I do. I am very careful to bring up these controversial discussions well after the deadline to drop my class, or I wouldn’t have any young men at all. But I have an ace up my sleeve, to borrow a phrase from Merle:
Star Wars.

 


Star Wars
?” I sat up straight.

 

“Where do you think George Lucas got his idea for the Jedi Knights?”

 

“I know this. The Arthurian Code of Chivalry!”

 

He kissed me on the nose. “You are my favorite pupil of all time. During the Middle Ages, the Church, and I’d like to say God himself, stepped up and created a system of accountability, boundaries if you will, for those in power. In theory, the codes of chivalry protected the weak, defended the helpless, provided for the needy, cherished the virtue of women, and preserved the sanctity of marriage. It was and is a brilliant idea. It’s too bad modern freedoms have reduced it to an eccentricity and an anachronism. You are so lucky. Do you know why?”

 

“Because you’re my sweetheart?” Then he kissed me for a long time.

 

“That’s a great answer, but that’s not what I was going to say. You’re lucky because parents from all over the world send their children to Boston to get an expensive education, and here you are, sitting on a park bench with me, getting it for free.”

 

“I’d like to contribute something to the class.”

 

“Absolutely, Miss Adamsky.”

 

I had been waiting all morning to say this. I stood up. He stood up. I told him to sit back down and he did.

 

I cleared my throat and began.

 

“Nature’s first green is gold
,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.”

 

David stood up and patted me on the head. “That’s very nice.” He offered me his arm. “We should be getting back.”

 

“What? What do you mean
very nice?
Where’s my gold star? Where’s my kiss? Where’s my
you’re the prettiest, smartest, most clever, most talented girl in the world?”

 

“Laura, I am a professor of
English
literature. Your poem is lovely and very appropriate for the day’s events. You said it quite well. But Frost is an American, love.” He wrapped his arms around me, and he laughed. “Haven’t you read the syllabus?”

 

I pulled away and playfully punched him in the stomach, and about broke my hand.

 

“Laura,” he stopped and swallowed. He had something important to say. “Back to your original question. Church, as you can see, is very important to me. You haven’t been invited to come with me because I’m afraid I will be immensely distracted by your beauty and come away empty instead of filled. My fiancée, however, must attend. It is not an option.”

 

“Of course. I would follow you anywhere.” I hadn’t thought about church in a long time. He still looked very concerned.

 

“I am Anglican. I know that you are a good Polish Catholic girl who wants to please her family. If you are delaying our engagement for religious differences, please know that I will happily take up the complete Catholic doctrine for your sake.” He kissed my hand. “All the English were Catholic before Henry VIII, and while he was an absolute monster to the women in his life, I do respect his creative problem-solving.”

 

I wasn’t delaying our engagement for that. Tomorrow would mark four full weeks that I had known David Julius Arthur Bowles. I needed him to be patient. Being his sweetheart was rather intense.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Route 2

Belmont, Massachusetts

2:52 p.m.

 

 

“What is it that made you decide to be my sweetheart? I’ve been trying to remember. Was it the flowers? The poetry?”

 

David and I were in the back seat of the Crown Victoria, holding hands. He had given me tiger lilies. We were on our way to a cocktail party at the home of the head of BC’s English department. David had first said we’d skip it, since it would mean I’d miss the Patriots playing Seattle, but then Ruby had made it clear that we weren’t welcome to watch it while she was watching it. She didn’t want our perfect relationship to cause any more trouble. I had decided that getting out of the apartment was the best way to spend my afternoon. The social-stroke-cultural event was now the cocktail party in Belmont. Brandon and Julie would be there. Neither of them teased me.

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