ME, CINDERELLA?(62)

“But we’re so close to the end.”

“There are still a few weeks left.” Eliot’s words were patient, but I could not be consoled.

“I mean the problem. We’re so close, and you’re leaving?”

“I appreciate your optimism, Brynn, but even with the work you’ve accomplished, we’re not close to a general solution.”

“How can we get it if you leave?” I turned squarely to him and took his hands in mine, squeezing tightly. The only person I cared for, and he was leaving me. Suddenly I found a newfound determination. I couldn’t lose him. “Don’t.”

“Brynn…”

“Don’t. Don’t leave. Eliot.” He rose from the bench and I rose with him, still grasping his hand. I couldn’t let him fall away from me so easily.

“Brynn, I can’t—”

“You can’t leave. Please.” I tilted my head up to look him straight in the eyes, and something in his expression softened. “Please?”

I could not have guessed what he would do next. Standing there on the bank of the Danube, he pulled me to his chest and bent his head down. His lips were hot on mine, and I could feel dampness on his cheeks. A flash of heat struck through my nerves, and I clutched at his arms, pushing back into his kiss with a wild insistence. Eliot met my passion with his own, pressing kiss after kiss onto my lips until I was breathless with want.

The first time Eliot kissed me he felt soft, gentle. Not now. Now he pressed his lips hard against mine, his arms crushing me into his chest. It was as though his body echoed my frustrations, my desires, my needs. Eyes closed, I saw nothing but flashes of white light, like snowflakes dancing on the lids of my eyes in the darkness. When he pulled away he cradled my face in his hands, his long fingers pressed to my skin and his eyes searched mine, for what I did not know.

“Brynn. Believe me, I would not leave if I didn’t have to. But I can’t stay here.”

My heart broke then, simply broke. I felt the crack go through the center and split me in two. The pure happiness that I had felt abandoned me as quickly as it had come.

“Is it because of her?”

Eliot’s dark eyelashes fluttered, downcast.

“It’s too hard to explain, Brynn.”

Too hard to explain? For hours on end Eliot would shove equations and algorithms into my brain, but one step into emotional territory and he fled, abandoning ship. Too hard to explain? I did not know how to respond. My mouth was dry.

“What about Lucky?” I thought about the kitten still at Eliot’s house. Already my desires were hidden from me. I would shut them up, lock them away, keep them secret and hidden until I forgot about them. Still I cared about the orphan kitten—if not me, then who else? If I could not achieve happiness for myself, I could at least protect the one helpless animal that had come to depend on me. “What will happen to him?”

“Marta has found a good place for him. With some friends in another city. They’re coming by in a few days. I’ll take care of him until then, and after that I’ll be leaving.”

“Can I say goodbye?” I looked up at Eliot, a deeper meaning in my words. He averted his eyes.

“Of course,” he said, having the decency to flush red at his collar. “Of course you can say goodbye.”





Eliot paced in the entryway of his house, waiting for Brynn. Foolishly, he had agreed to let her come to see the cat one last time before Marta’s friends took it away. He could not but think that he should be gone from the house to avoid any mishaps, but of course Brynn wasn’t just coming to see Lucky.

The knock echoed through the emptiness of the house. Eliot set his mouth into a thin smile and opened the door.

Brynn stood outside in a red wool coat, her hands clasped in front of her in gloves, her hair tied up neatly in a bun. The cab pulled off down the driveway, and Eliot watched as the tires made fresh dark tracks in the morning snowfall. Although technically it had been spring for weeks already, Nature had other ideas in mind for that day. A cold front had plummeted the temperatures in Budapest close to freezing, and the clouds which would normally have rained spring showers had instead turned the ground white with a fresh blanket of snow. Brynn wiped the slush off of her boots before stepping in carefully. Her expression was wary as he leaned forward and kissed her on one cheek in greeting, then the other. Her lips did not so much as brush his skin, and he felt her harden under his touch.

He took her coat from her to hang up, and could not help but stare at what she was wearing underneath—a bright red dress with cap sleeves, low-cut. She looked gorgeous, and immediately he was ashamed of his own state of dress—he was barefoot, in a stained shirt and the wrinkled dress pants he had worn the night before. He looked a mess.