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“Apparently, admiring a French woman is almost considered an act of infidelity,” he murmurs in a warm, velvety voice. “And you’ve just confirmed that to be true, my dear Alma.”
“This way!” barks Vadim, as he heads for the door.
What the hell just happened here?
42
Alma
I tried to find out a little about who exactly Monkov is, but Vadim cut my questions short and disappeared right after the unsettling confrontation. I know he can’t help it, though. His painful childhood has left him with deep scars… and this instinct to flee. Solitude is his only armor when the ramparts he built around himself begin to crumble.
But I wish I could be his armor.
Holed up in my hotel room, away from all the commotion, I take advantage of an uneventful evening to check in on my loved ones. After Lily, Clémentine, and my parents, Niels is the fourth on my list.
“It just happened, Alma… I was alone, and so was Basile. We talked, hit it off, and then… you know.”
Hearing Niels’s cheerful voice on the other end of the line takes my mind off things for a while. It’s not necessarily a subject I would have chosen, but I always enjoy listening to his stories.
“Niels, I don’t mind talking about it, but just spare me the details you usually share about your other conquests, okay?”
“Umm… okay. What are we going to chat about then?”
“Something other than sex, for a change?”
“Alright. Then how about we talk about my bald cat?”
I laugh for the first time today.
***
I’m about to call room service when someone knocks on my door. Only once, but loudly enough to startle me. I hover behind the door for a few seconds, reluctant to open it. The sudden silence makes me uneasy. Slowly, I press down on the handle, then open the door just a crack, and immediately recognize the whispering voice on the other side.
“Alma, open up.”
Half drunk, with ashen skin and glazed eyes, Vadim can barely stay on his feet. His head is lolling from side to side, so much so that his forehead actually bounces off the door. He collapses into my arms, holding onto me with all his strength. His hair smells of chlorine, and his dripping wet clothes cling to his body—he’s soaked from head to toe.
I try to calm him down, and ask him to tell me what’s going on. I’ve never seen Vadim in such a state.
“I’m sorry… For showing up like this… I think I had a little too much to drink.”
“I think so, too… Come in. It’s okay, Vadim.”
“No, wait… I don’t know what came over me… I thought twice before knocking on your door. I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want to force you into anything… so I sat on a deckchair to think. There was no one around. Then I jumped in the water to clear my head… With my clothes on… Fuck, I’m pathetic.”
This man, usually so strong and so proud, suddenly looks so helpless and vulnerable as he hunches in the hallway of this hotel. His despair touches me and makes me want to take care of him, despite the way he often keeps me at a distance. I slide a hand around the back of his neck, and he lets me.
“Talk to me, Vadim.”
“I’d like to sleep… Just sleep.”
“Come on.”
I pull him gently toward me and lead him to the bed. I take off his clothes one by one, and he almost loses his balance several times in the process. He is trembling, either from emotion or from the cold, and it breaks my heart to see him like this. I grab a towel from the bathroom and rub his hair.
When I’m done, Vadim sinks back onto the bed, and I join him, pulling him into my arms. He falls asleep within seconds. His face relaxes, his body goes limp, and his breathing becomes regular.
Though I can’t help dwelling on all the things he isn’t telling me, right now I just want the tortured man curled up against me to finally find peace. To be free of all the feelings that torment him, from the suffering that haunts him.
