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So why has it taken so damn long?
I try to put her out of my mind, getting ready for a meeting with Dad and Mark, the art collector. He’s far from my favorite person after he hit on both Elise and Tatiana last time we were at the bar, but his pockets are deep and business is business. I’m getting ready to shave, running the razor under the tap, when I hear my phone ring from my bedroom where it’s connected to the charger. Some sixth sense tells me that it’s Elise––or maybe it’s just misguided hope––and this time my suspicion is correct.
“It’s been a while,” I tell her as a greeting, trying to keep my cool, and Elise stutters on whatever she is trying to say.
“Um, hello to you too,” she gripes, annoyed. “You know the phone works both ways, right? You could have called me.”
“Maybe I didn’t have anything to say.”
I hear her inhale sharply. “Why are you being an asshole? Look, I just called to tell you that Dad confirmed that the open season for hunting begins on Monday the 15th, so we’re walking down to the lake to see if there are some mallards to hunt that day. Is that okay with you? Since you’ve got so much of a problem with––”
I feel my anger and frustration boil over as I interrupt Elise mid-sentence. “You really think I'm that dumb, huh?” I ask, unable to contain myself any longer. “First you make up some lame excuse about that invitation to England, and then Johan goes and stays at your parents’ for the weekend, and I know nothing about it? Do everyone a favor and go with him.”
Elise is taken aback by the harshness in my voice, and by being caught, I assume, and she stammers. “W-what? I don't understand—”
I cut her off again. “You understand perfectly well. You're playing games with me, Elise. You're playing games with my heart, and I’m done with it. You promised me honesty and transparency, but instead, you’ve been lying to me and hiding things from me. That’s not the kind of relationship I want to be in.”
“Wait, Dan,” she rushes to say. “I know this looks bad, really I do, but I only invited Johan here to help me persuade Mom to talk to her prosecutor friend and have her drop the charges against Roxanne. I figured that Johan is respected enough and that his presence would be novel enough to throw her off guard some, and it worked! Mom is even thinking about coming to the wedding.”
I scoff. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, El. Your mom barely knows him, and now I’m supposed to believe that it’s his presence that is going to make all the difference when it comes to her choices? Yeah, right.”
“You don’t get it,” she insists. “Mom is comfortable telling us no about coming to the wedding since we all know how Dad will react, but when Johan asked her, it’s not like she could tell him no without looking like the worst parent ever. She hasn’t confirmed it for sure but I know she spoke to her friend, and I really think she’ll surprise Andries and come to the wedding!”
“This is all very convenient.”
“I even had him give Hannah the tickets,” she continues, blurting her words out quickly, as if she’s afraid that I’m going to hang up mid-sentence. The idea is tempting. “Nothing happened between Johan and me, I promise you, Dan. I know I’m not the easiest person in the world to trust, but––”
“That’s an understatement,” I laugh harshly. “I’m getting off the phone now, El.”
“Wait!” she exclaims. “Just… please come hunting, okay? It’s really important to me and my father and he’s excited for you to join us.”
Not wanting to drag this painful argument out anymore, I acquiesce just enough to satisfy her. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“What does that even mean? Are you coming or not?” she asks, but I hang up before I can hear anything else that she has to say. Elise has already told me everything I need to know about her little secret weekend with Johan, and nothing else that she has to tell me will make any difference. She’s a liar, and she managed to fool meagain.
I spend the next few hours going over everything in my head. I think about all the moments Elise and I shared and all the promises we made to each other. I feel like a fool for believing in our relationship, and I wonder if I'll ever be able to trust anyone again.
But as the hours pass, I realize that I still love Elise and I’m not sure I want to throw everything away so quickly. Maybe it makes me an idiot, but I think there is still more to be said between us before things end completely. We’re going to have to speak face to face, but the idea of doing so makes my chest hurt to the point I ball my fist up and press it against my sternum to ease my aching heart. I need to see her and speak to her, but not now. Maybe not anytime soon….
Still feeling raw and hurt from Elise's deception, I finish getting ready to go to my parents’ home, not wanting to be late for the meeting with Mark. Elise occupies my every thought. I believed we had a chance to make things work, but now I realize that it was all just a facade. I can’t believe that she would invite Johan to stay overnight and not tell me! If I had done the same with one of my ex-girlfriends Elise would have lost her mind, but apparently, she expects me to just be fine with her and Johan having little sleepovers whenever they feel like it. The thought of them being together, just the two of them, makes me physically ill.
I go back to the bathroom sink and run the tap as cold as it will go, splashing the water on my face to clear my head and any residual nausea from my own awful thoughts, trying to center myself. As I meet my reflection’s gaze in the mirror, water dripping down the bridge of my nose, I can’t help but to cringe.
“You look like shit,” I tell myself. “Get it together. We’ve got work to do.”
Dad and I sit in his atelier, surrounded by the tools of his trade. Unlike the messier, more chaotic basement workroom, this part of Pop’s business is cleaner and much more organized and acts as a public face when he deals with clients. The walls are lined with shelves covered in brushes, jars of polish, and watch parts, but most of them are simply for display. There is ample overhead lighting and a view of the family gardens through the windows.
My dad runs his fingers over the watch we’re looking to sell today thoughtfully. “You said you know this guy?”
“Yeah, I’ve had drinks with him a few times,” I confirm. “He’s not my favorite guy on the planet, but he’s a well-respected buyer, so I guess we could do worse.”
Dad nods, rubbing his chin. “Alright, that will do, then. Anything is easier than going to an auction.”
“You seem hesitant,” I point out, walking across the room to stand beside him and look down at the piece. “Getting sentimental in your old age, Pops?”
He chuckles. “Maybe. It’s just always bittersweet when I put hours of my work into these things and then it’s time for them to go. I can’t be greedy, even if I want to be.”
It isn’t long before the butler arrives, escorting Mark to us. He’s dressed smartly in a casual dark blue suit, and his eyes sparkle as he walks into the atelier––probably recognizing my father’s talent as a restoration artist, and looking forward to the business we’re about to dive into.
