Lessons in Gravity (Study Abroad #2) (32 page)

How could I have been so fucking stupid? She is young, and she is hurting; she is vulnerable. I knew all these things.

I didn’t know she was in love with me. The same kind of ardent, unconditional love I feel for her.

I don’t know whose mistake that was—mine or hers. I’d take the blame, I’d apologize a thousand times, if it meant I could hold her again.

I suspected it before, but knew I was in love with Maddie the moment she stumbled out of Ático on Saturday night. She was pissed out of her mind, hanging onto her friends for support; people were staring as she stumbled past, politely stepping back like they were afraid she might vomit on their designer kicks.

She was
that
girl.

And I knew I loved her because I couldn’t help but move toward her, I couldn’t help but take her in my arms and hold back her hair as got sick. I wanted to comfort her. I wished it were me getting sick, I wished for nothing more than for her to feel better, a bit of the old boot and rally. Lord knows I’d done it enough myself.

Maddie was a mess, but she was
my
mess. I would do anything for her, I would sacrifice anything—that night it was my pride, and my shoes—to see her happy.

I told her I loved her while she was bent over the sidewalk, my hand trailing small circles across her back. I didn’t think she heard me—and even if she did, she probably wouldn’t remember it when she woke up the next morning—but I said it anyway. I wanted to let her know that I was there.

I miss her.
 

I grab the cigarettes and head downstairs. I don’t bother with a jacket. The cold feels good, a reminder that a world outside of my own—outside of Maddie—exists.

I
miss
her.

I unwrap the plastic from the pack and shove it in my pocket. I’m just about to light up when a hand materializes from the darkness and plucks the cigarette from my mouth.

I look up, and the curse on my lips—a curse that would give my mother a stroke—dies when I see Leo, a look of stern consternation on his face.

He holds up the cigarette. “What is this bullshit?”

“I’m having a bad day,” I say, and try grab it from his hand.

He promptly drops it on the ground and squashes it under the heel of his boot.

“You are having the bad days for too many days currently.” Leo puts his hands on his hips. “I have went to tell you no more of those days. You are a new man now. No more of the smoking. No more María Carmen. No more crazy times with many women. Not any of those things making you very happy.”

I give him the side-eye. “Your English is getting better.”

“Thank you,” he replies. “I practice it much.”

I take a breath, let it out. The pack of cigarettes is burning a hole in my back pocket, but I resist the urge to reach for it.

“I know,” I sigh, digging a hand through my hair. “I know those things don’t make me happy anymore. I just. I thought coming back to Madrid would make me feel more settled—more content because I was
home
. I missed that, being on the road—that sense of connection. Of comfort. But you know what, Leo? I felt more lost than ever when I got here. I mean, it was great having my mum around, and Carmen, and Rafa. But I still didn’t feel like I was home.”

Leo nods. “Not until you meet Maddie.”

“Yes.” I look at him. “God, since when did you develop this Jedi sixth-sense of emotional insight? It’s great, really, but also a bit…unsettling, I guess?”

“I live,” Leo shrugs. “I learn. I also read many books and love many women.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Madrid is the place you come from,” Leo says. “But it is not your home. Home is the people, not the places. Home for you is Maddie.”

I blink at the prick of tears. He’s right. I’ve never thought about it like that, but it’s true. All along I’ve been searching for my belonging, a sense of comfort and purpose. I thought I’d find it in a physical
place
, just like Maddie believed her home was the lovely mansion she grew up in.

Now I see that I found my belonging not in Madrid, but in Maddie.

It was always, always about Maddie.

I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.

Until Leo, the guy with the errant pelvis and potty mouth, pointed it out to me.

“You’re right,” I say. “You’re absolutely right. But it’s too late, Leo. I did the worst thing I could possibly do to her—I betrayed her trust. I didn’t mean to, and that kiss with Carmen—you and I both know that didn’t mean anything. Still. I made Maddie a promise, and then I broke it.”

Leo puts a hand on my shoulder. “Fight for the woman. One ending time.”

“One
last
time.”

“Yes. One last time.”

“I have fought,” I reply. “I’ve called a hundred times, texted a hundred more, but she blocked my number. I’ve offered Rafa more Euros than I care to admit to help me see her. You know, an ‘accidental’ run-in at a café sort of thing. I’ve sent flowers. I even wrote a letter.”

“And?”

“Nothing. I got nothing back. She’s washed her hands of me, Leo. It’s done. We’re done.”

Leo purses his lips, gazing out into the growing darkness.

“What is the one thing you might can do for Maddie that none other peoples can do?”

“What?” I furrow my brow. “Are you being a pervert again?”

“No, no, I do not mean it like this. I mean you are a
Madrileño
, you know the music, you play the guitar. You have a band I am in.”

“What does the band have to do with Maddie?”

Leo looks at me. “Something. We figure something romantic we do for her. Maybe she misses her home? Americans, they have a love for those songs of Christmas? You know…como se dice…”

“Christmas carols.”

“Yes!” Leo pokes a finger in the air. “Maybe we play the Christmas carols for Maddie, and she misses her home much less? The music, it is very much healing of the heart.”

I blink. “Seriously, mate, you’re starting to scare me with this self-help stuff. But that’s a good idea. A really good idea. We could put on a little concert for her at the monastery—I could invite her there under the guise of doing her research—maybe on Thanksgiving, when she’ll really be missing home—”

“And then, boom! We play for her.”

“Yes,” I say, my excitement rising. This might just actually work. “Except we’re not going to play Christmas carols.”

Leo blinks. “What? Then what is the thing we play?”

“I have an idea. Here, you want these?” I offer him the cigarettes.

He shakes his head. “You do the inspire me. I quit, too. For one hour already!”

I pat him on the back. “Good for you, Leo. C’mon, let’s get inside. We have some new songs to learn. A few favors to call in, too.”

Chapter 26

Maddie

A few days later

I set my cappuccino on the last remaining table at the café, careful not to spill the beautiful, fluffy white cloud of foam that tops the mug. I wiggle my way between tables and sit on the booth, plopping my laptop on the table.

I sip my coffee, tentatively, testing to see if it’s too hot.

It’s good. Not as good as Javier’s. But good.

Thank God. My insomnia has returned with a vengeance, and my eyeballs hurt so badly I wish I could scoop them out of my head with a spoon.
 

Coffee seems to be the only thing that helps.

I open my laptop and log into my Meryton U. email account. I scroll through the usual mail—a note from the dean about finals, a corrected draft of an essay from my art history professor—but draw up short when I see María Carmen’s name pop up at the top of my inbox.

My stomach does a backflip.

I wish I could say the anger I feel toward her outweighed my curiosity about what she has to say for herself.

I wish I could just delete the email without reading it, and go about my merry way.

But c’mon, who am I kidding?

Dear Madeline,

I hope this note finds you well and that your studies continue to progress. I understand you have less than three weeks until you leave Madrid, and I am sure you will make the most of them.

I confess I do not know where to begin with my apology for what happened the other night. Javier and I have not been together for some time, although we’ve remained friendly over the years.

I was excited when I found out Javier had returned to Madrid following his tour with Juan Ramos. I suppose I missed him more than I let on.

He’s made clear to me now that he did not miss me in the same way. I don’t hold this against him. But he was so charming, and I misread the signs. Being a foolish romantic, I saw interest in his friendliness when there clearly was none.

I didn’t know that you and Javier were interested in each other. If I had, I would have
never
pursued him the way I did; I assumed he was single. I asked him if the two of you were dating. He said no; apparently he told me this right after the two of you got into an argument. He thought he would never see you again at that point.
 

Let me assure you that I was the one doing the pursuing, not the other way around. I was the one who kissed Javier. And he kissed me back because was trying to forget you.

It didn’t work. He misses you, terribly. I have never seen him so distraught.

I would love to make this up to you in any way that I can. Perhaps you would like to conduct further research at the monastery? We have a school visit this Thursday during the day, but I am happy to open the monastery to you anytime after 5 o’clock in the afternoon.
 

I am deeply sorry for what happened. Javier is a wonderful man. One of the best. He would not hurt you intentionally. Not you, the woman he loves.

I hope to see you next Thursday.

Regards,

Carmen

I read the email a second time, and then a third, my heart beating faster and faster until I feel lightheaded. She’s so ridiculous, María Carmen, with her stuffy tone—“I am a foolish romantic”, “he’s distraught”—I mean, who talks like that anymore?

She’s ridiculous. But maybe she’s right, too.

I lean back against the booth. I don’t know what to think. Oh, how I want to believe her. I want to believe that the kiss was all her fault and that Javier was, like me, very much an innocent bystander in all of this.

But believing only makes a fool out of you.

I know this now.

Regardless of my feelings towards Javier and Carmen, I still haven’t gotten to a good place in my thesis. I have done plenty of research, but I can’t seem to settle on a topic. The thought of leaving Spain without that all-important topic is depressing to say the least. I’ve already put in so much time, so much thought and effort into my ideas for the monastery.

And I love the place. Something tells me I’m not going to ever find a spot that inspires me as much as El Monasterio de los Humildes Reales.

Still. I’d rather do that thing to my eyeballs than see María Carmen again. I get it, she didn’t know about me and Javier—no one did, really, except for Viv, and Laura, and Rafa I guess—but still, I can’t scrub the image from my brain of her pin-up red lips moving over Javier’s mouth.

I sigh, reaching for my cappuccino.

I just don’t know.

Chapter 27

Maddie

Thanksgiving Day

The wind, frigid, cutting, swirls around me, making my eyes water. I’ve given up on tucking my hair behind my ears, and now it flies wild and loose in my face.

Good thing I know my way to The Monastery of Humble Royals by heart—I can’t see shit.

It’s dusk, the street lamps just blinking awake. Back home, mom is probably putting the turkey in the oven while my grandmother throws together her stuffing. Kevin will be watching football, and dad—well, I don’t know what dad will be doing. I didn’t ask, because I don’t want to know.

I just hope he’s not alone, wherever he is. Even he deserves a little company on what used to be an important family day.

It’s hitting me especially hard today, the homesickness. The sadness and the anger and the disappointment. I miss my family, and I
really
fucking miss Javier.

I tried to get the Madrileñas together Thanksgiving dinner, study-abroad style—my señora offered to host us—but everyone kinda crapped out, including Vivian. I’m a little miffed at her for blowing me off, because she knows how bummed I’ve been lately.

She knows I really need a little TLC today.

So, yeah. It’s Thanksgiving, and I am alone. Not gonna lie, I’m feeling pretty sorry for myself.

My throat tightens.

Not now
, I tell myself.
You can’t fall apart now.

I have so much work left to do on my thesis—mainly, I need to figure out what the hell I’m writing it on—I can’t afford to fall apart today. Who knows when I’ll get another chance to study the monastery?