“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.
Why should he be jealous? It had been his decision to stay out of her life, and the choice had been made for her own good. Every time he saw her, though, he came closer and closer to ruing the decision he had made. In her time at Budapest, he saw her grow and mature, not only as a mathematician, but also as a woman. Each visit made him more aware of her budding grace, her beauty that was no longer childlike. He began to make excuses to come to the academy more often, every time knowing that he was playing with fire.
The semester went on and on, and his work made progress in leaps and bounds now that he was actively sharing ideas with the interns and assistants. Each day brought him closer to the answer to his problem, and at the same time closer to the day when Brynn would leave and go back to America to graduate, find a job, marry someone else. Eliot tortured himself with imagining her future husband, her future family, her future life without him. He was no idiot. She was young and had the rest of her future in front of her, and he was sure her brief experiences with him had disillusioned her about the possibility of staying with him. No, that chance had come and gone, if it ever existed.
He lectured at the front of the classroom, but his lectures were directed solely towards her, and although she never raised her hand to ask a question, he tried to read her expression to know what parts he needed to explain more thoroughly. And although she stayed quiet, the last words she had directed his way echoed incessantly through his mind: