Page 88 of Saint Céline
“If I end things with Thad,” I said, “it doesn’t mean I choose you.”
Behind me, Vincent was silent for a moment.
Then he said, “You misunderstand me, Céline. I don’t want to be chosen because he is gone.”
My fingers tightened around the doorframe.
“I want you to run out of places to hide.”
I left before he could see what that did to me.
20
Céline
I waited until I reached my car before the shaking started. My hands trembled when I fitted the key into the ignition, and the engine turned over with a low, obedient hum. Rain still misted the windshield, turning Bellamont into soft grey shapes behind the glass. Students moved beneath black umbrellas, laughing and complaining about midterms, completely unaware that my life had been split open inside Professor Moreau’s office while they carried coffees and ordinary worries.
I sat there with both hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.
Break up with Thad. Tonight.
The words kept returning with the same quiet violence.
My throat tightened so hard I had to swallow twice before I could breathe properly again. The passenger seat looked empty without my bag there, so I moved it from the floor and placed itbeside me. Then I reached inside and found my phone. Thad had texted three times while I was in the lab.
Thad:Hope your day’s going okay.
Thad:Dinner tonight?
Thad:Mom asked about you. She wants to send flowers to the Montgomerys again but doesn’t want to overdo it. Thoughts?
I stared at the messages until the words blurred. Even now, even with Vincent’s threat pressed against the back of my skull like a blade, part of me wanted to answer normally.
Dinner sounds good.
Your mother is very kind.
I’ll wear the purple dress.
There were versions of myself that knew exactly how to continue. I could meet Thad at the harbour restaurant. I could smile through wine and let him touch my waist as we walked to his car. I could go back to his apartment afterwards and let him kiss me with that earnest, practiced tenderness that made me feel less desired than approved of. I could fake my pleasure when we had sex. I could still choose safety.
Except Vincent had taken my door and locked it from the outside.
My phone buzzed again.
Thad.
I almost let it ring out, then answered before I could lose courage entirely.
“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and easy. “You alive?”
I watched rainwater slide slowly down the windshield. “Barely.”
“Long lab?”
“Something like that.”
“You sound awful.”
