In the background of her thoughts, Lisa could hear life in the city all around her. There were people running around somewhere. She couldn't see them, but she could hear them. The luxury sports car of his was like an escape ship to Lisa. A chance to enjoy the city, without having to bike or walk everywhere. Finally getting to sit back and relax, looking at the other people. People who were milling around, enjoying their typical lives.
45
They met the following week on a Sunday. They took a leisurely walk through the park in the heart of the city. Lisa took a seat in the grass, dropping her back against the prickling green. She was dressed in a plain t-shirt, and denim shorts. She looked over as he sat down beside her. In his long black pants, and loose button up shirt. He seemed hesitant to join her gazing up at the sky. She was enjoying the sun shining, and the pleasure of the fragrant air. In this moment, she felt happy. Life was good. She rolled over onto her side so she was facing him. She briefly looked past him at the magnificent building beside them. It was an old house with a real stone structure. Her eyes fixed back to him. He was now staring at the sky, but he seemed to be lost in thought.
“Can I ask you a question?” Lisa started, directing his attention from the sky to herself. He nodded.
“Of course. Ask me anything you want.” He offered. She nodded, but didn't continue right away. He may have opened the door for her questions, but she was nervous about walking in.
“You're still married, right?” She asked softly. He sighed.
“Yes.” He answered, almost under his breath.
“Then why did you write me an email?” She asked. He didn't answer.
“Did you want to find a young lover?” She trailed off, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.
“Not exactly.” He vaguely replied. She sighed.
“Then why? Why did you send me that first email? I don't understand.” She continued.
“If I wanted a young lover, I could have went to one of those mistress sites.” He dismissed.
“Then why?” She repeated.
“We're not, together, technically. I was looking for a new wife.” He added.
“What do you mean by technically?” She asked softly.
“I haven't lived with my wife since our daughter grew up. It's been seven years since they moved out. Don’t I have the right to find a new woman?” He continued explaining.
Lisa nodded, though she didn't understand. She could hear the footprints of tourists all around. The shuffling sound pushed away her thoughts, but only momentarily.
If that was the case, why did he write her such tender letters in the first place? Why did he give her gifts of flowers? Why did he steal her time? Was he just playing games with her? Was she just a distraction? Or, did he really mean all the wonderful things he had said?
“Don't I have the right to find a new woman? Someone who will fill the empty space in my life with joy and happiness. Like you.” He asked softly. She blushed, looking away.
“Lisa...” He tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled away—not sharply, more dully, as though she wasn’t sure where she was now, or what she was doing. She sat up and moved to put her shoes back on. “My wife has moved on. My family has moved on. I have more than enough to support them, and...”
She blushed, looking away.
Is it that awful? The words echoed in her head.
“Look, Lisa, I can understand why you're angry, but believe me, please, I'm going to tell you—”
“At least you gave me your real name,” she interrupted him bitterly. “I probably ought to be grateful to you, but you know, for some strange reason I do not feel gratitude. It must have something to do with the fact that I met a stranger, but maybe I just an old-fashioned habit of believing in sincerity—the meaning of which you obviously have no idea.”
Her knuckles gripping the tube were white; she was furious. He had the audacity to write her?
Despite the fact that she completely understood what he was saying, it left her worried. She looked up at the sky, then around at the tourists that were milling around the park. She had never planned on falling in love, but she did. The only problem was…he was Mr. Wrong.
At that exact moment, the song “Playing with Madness, “ by Schiller—with Mia—began its mournful emanation from her iPad.
I’m crying for you
will I have to lose it?
now or never
you make up the rules
walking in a straighter line wherever you are
life is on my mind
it’s like a fever being with you...
is playing with madness
I feel a rush inside my veins yearning for you
it’s like a fever being with you...
is playing with madness playing with you
“I’ll get my bag,” she whispered to him, softly.
“Lisa, please—don’t go.”
She just looked at him, holding his face for a moment looking at those soft, sky-blue eyes, now blinded with tears. “It’s late, Alexander. I...would appreciate it very much if you could drive me to the metro station.”
Alexander silently took his hand from hers and touched her palm. “Will you write me?” he questioned.
She did not answer.
They approached her house. Lisa ran home. His luxury car was exactly at the corner.
When she got back to the house, the host father was sitting on the bed in her room. She didn't know how to react, at first, taken aback by his presence. Then, she noticed her suitcase was open, being on the bed beside him. She didn't have the chance to ask what he was doing.
“Lisa, you have an hour to pack your belongings,” he shouted, standing up.
Lisa stood, dumbfounded in the doorway. She had no idea what to reply to that. She knew that an hour wasn't enough time to pack everything she had collected over the last year. She thought about staying silent and just ignoring the invasion of her privacy. Her frustration became too much to bare.
“I'll help you!” he shouted.
Lisa thought that her host father must have been furious.
She started grabbing her things. She didn't want to upset him any more than he already was. He started grabbing her personal things. He touched her underwear, and threw her bras towards the bed. He grabbed her tampons and threw them into Lisa's suitcase. Lisa did not want him to see everything. She was trying to fold her clothes, and neatly pack them in.
“Move faster,” Marc demanded, still tossing things towards her. She felt flustered, starting to inventory her belongings in her head. She started grabbing only what was most important to her. She decided to keep only what would fit in that one suitcase. She quickly shoved everything inside, zipping the suitcase closed. The host father pulled it out from her hand, and tossed it towards the door.
“We want you to move out. You were a bad au pair. You didn't even vacuum our villa over the weekend,” the host father lectured Lisa. She had already realized she was being kicked out.
“Where am I supposed to sleep?” she asked, still frustrated. She was almost at the point of tears.