The space between us had grown too dangerous to stay in. We couldn’t be friends, not like we had been before. I wanted to throw myself into the river outside and freeze until I couldn’t feel these emotions anymore. The pain of being rejected by Eliot was almost as bad as the pain of hurting Mark. I could deal with being hurt. I had always been the one who could handle pain. But dealing it out to someone else was too much. The two people in my life who I felt closest to here, and they had both been torn away from me. More alone than ever, I retreated back into the safety of mathematics, and the dam inside of me that I thought had been torn down now stood taller than ever, my protection from the messiness of he outside world.
Eliot sat at his desk, reluctantly petting the gray ball of fur that sat purring on his lap. As the phone rang again, he prayed for Marta to stop calling him. After the tenth ring, he gave up pretending to be in the shower.
“Eliot? Finally!” Marta said, her voice bright and enthusiastic. “I’ve called about that damned cat you wanted to get rid of.”
“Oh!” Eliot breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad.”
“Did you think I was going to ask about that girl of yours? I convinced the Lustigs to take her cat in a couple of days. How is she?”
“The cat?”
“The girl.”
“Marta, the subject is over.”
“I was just asking how she was.”
“She’s doing well. She’s done some good work on the project with another student.” His voice caught on the last syllable, and he coughed to cover it up, but Marta didn’t miss anything.
“Another student? A boy? Eliot, are you jealous?”
“It’s not my place to be jealous.”
“You don’t have any competition.” Marta seemed unworried. “She’ll come back around.”
“Thanks, Marta, but I’m really not looking for any kind of relationship right now.”
“You’ve been saying that for ten years, Eliot.”
The pause between them stretched and curled across the phone connection. Eliot shifted uncomfortably back in his chair, leaning his head on the hard leather. A burning desire flickered up in his consciousness and he stamped it down.
“I can’t.” I won’t.
“Why not?”
“She’s a student—”
“So what? Eliot, don’t think her heart isn’t in the same place as yours.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’ve seen my share of lovestruck maidens.” He could hear the wine being sipped at the end of her sentence.
“You’re being absurd.” As insightful as Marta was sometimes, she couldn’t help but insert herself into drama. Or create it if none existed. And he was sure that none existed here.
Marta sighed, a heavy sigh meant to chastise.
“If you think she doesn’t love you, you’re either so stupid you can’t see the nose in front of your face or so scared that you’re pulling back into your shell. And I know you’re not stupid, Eliot.”
“I don’t believe she does love me. If she ever did, I’m not convinced she does anymore.”
“I am.”
“Marta, even if we both wanted something, I can’t.” Eliot stood up from his desk and began to pace from shelf to shelf, the phone pressed to his ear.
“Whenever you say you can’t, it usually means you’ve just gotten in your own way, Eliot. You always trip over good intentions. Don’t let them get in the way of love.”
“I can’t—”
“Can’t what?”
“Love!” Eliot rested his head against the wall. “I can’t love anymore. Not again.”
“You won’t let yourself. Eliot, when was the last time you went to church?”
Eliot smiled wanly. Otto wasn’t exactly the religious type, but Marta strove to get him to church every Sunday. Whether for the publicity or for the moral salvation, Otto usually obliged.
“It’s been a while.” Ten years is a while, isn’t it?
“Try it, maybe. You might learn a little something about forgiveness.”
“I don’t deserve it. The accident was my fault.”
“And it’s in the past. The long past. You deserve a future.”
“Thank you for your concern, Marta. Give my love to Otto.”
“I will. Forgive yourself, Eliot.”
Eliot looked at the phone, then hung up.
I don’t deserve a future, he thought. And even if I did, she deserves a brighter one than I could give her.
Weeks passed. Eliot kept his distance from Brynn, and she kept hers. Her work, already impressive, had become near-professional in its diligence, and she made sure to document not only her successes, but the avenues of inquiry that led to failure. She stayed late at the academy every night, or so his assistants told him. He wasn’t quite sure what happened between her and the Joseph boy. Either she hid the relationship from him so well he couldn’t figure it, or nothing had happened after that first night he caught them together. Regardless, on the rare occasions he came to visit the academy and saw them working together, he felt a tug of jealousy.