CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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2021
November was, as always, an explosion of gray.
It was colder now, forcing me to return to my parents' manor and pick up my warmer clothes, along with Ingrid's dress, clean of any wine stains. I found myself missing the European summer and the warmth of the sun on my skin, the bright, blinding lights during the day, the architecture, and my grandparents, but, most of all, I missed the life I'd had there. My summer in Madrid had made me feel rejuvenated, helping with the illusion that all of my problems had stayed on the other side of the Atlantic, where I'd deal with them as soon as I regained my strength, and I'd had a more relaxed Chase by my side. Then, then, the skies were so blue they even rivaled his eyes.
He was still my favorite shade of blue.
Then, well into November, I sat outside as the first fall of snow of the month descended. I barely noticed it at first, bundled up in one of my father's heavy coats, a scarf wrapped around my neck, and a knit beanie pushed down my head, holding Chase's extremely annotated copy of François Truffaut's Hitchcock. When I did, most people around me already had retreated to safety, not dumb enough to sit outside in the cold when it was snowing, but it took me a while to process what was going on.
Glistening snowflakes clung to my hair, speckled across my frozen fingers like light freckles, and, when I gasped and exhaled in surprise, a cloud of warm air fogged the area around me. With the temperatures dropping this low, I shouldn't be staying outside without gloves, knowing how easily I developed frostbite and fell victim to seasonal ailments, yet there I was.
Being in my apartment wasn't a good idea, now that Ingrid and Savannah were spending more time inside thanks to the cold, and I couldn't ignore Ingrid's resentment any longer. I knew she was still reeling that I hadn't invited her to dinner with my parents and Stephen Delaroux, even though I had never done so in the past, but I supposed she thought our friendship had earned her an unspoken invitation. To make things worse, I had to tell her I'd spilled wine all over her dress, something I'd promised her wouldn't happen, but I'd never been great at keeping any promises I made to someone who wasn't Chase, and even then.
Savannah was a completely different story. I still felt awful about getting to have Chase as an advisor while she didn't, even though she deserved it, and it was even worse to know I was the reason why. If I hadn't asked Chase to not choose her, if I hadn't gotten involved, things would have been different; if he hadn't felt the need to defend me, three years after the frat party, after I'd forgiven her, none of this would have happened. I'd decided to blame the men for what had happenedâPaul, the nameless guy that had spiked my drinkâinstead of Savannah, Ingrid, or even myself, after an intense therapeutic process I'd abandoned the second I realized I couldn't be fully honest with my therapist and when I felt like I wouldn't benefit from it anymore. I was no longer scared of parties or men, even though I'd always have to be careful with my drinks and my body, and we'd parted ways in mutual agreement. I was better, and I needed Chase to see that instead of punishing Savannah over it.
Thus, it was way easier for everyone involved if I simply stopped imposing my presence and minded my own business elsewhere, somewhere quiet where I could focus on my assigned reading and force my brain to come up with a decent senior project. I needed it to be good enough just so I could graduate, but my crippling fear of failure prevented me from ever settling for something mediocre or minimally acceptable, even though I knew it would be borderline impossible for my starved brain to produce something that far exceeded every expectation, including my own.
As I made my way back inside before I froze to death and attracted unnecessary attention to myself, I held the book close to my chest to protect it as much as I possibly could, not daring to hide it inside my coat and have it be blasted by the cold wind and the wet snow while I unbuttoned my clothes. Fortunately, there weren't many people blocking the entrances to any buildings, so I didn't struggle much to find a hiding spot, and I was quickly warm again.
The change in temperature was so abrupt it nearly knocked me off my feet. It felt like being punched in the gut, as I slowly regained control of my limbs and extremities, including my fingers, and nearly dropped the book, suddenly hit by a wish to remove all the heavy clothing I was wearing. No one paid me much attention, as everyone else had much more important things to worry about besides Penelope Romero no longer being cold in November, and even the snow in my hair was melting.
It was a busy afternoon. It was just after lunch and some people scrambled towards their first afternoon lecture, whereas I didn't have to be in this building, but I'd developed the annoying habit of attending lectures of courses I didn't take just to work. No one ever called me to answer any questions and, just like every other area of my life, it was like I didn't even exist, easily slipping by unnoticed. However, this was the place where Ingrid usually was whenever she wasn't drinking coffee or at the apartment, being too cool to interact with anyone else. As someone who wanted to avoid her as much as possible, being here was walking across a minefield.
Entering this building had been my first mistake. Then, I decided to make things even worse by not watching where I was going.
My phone buzzed inside my pocket as I tried to find a way out of hallways I'd walked across several times before, a building I should know every hidden corner of, and, in my rush to check the notifications, I barely managed to dodge a group of pre-med students. The one person I didn't walk past and, instead, walked right into, sent me flying backwards, making me drop the book instead of the phone. I could easily get a new phone if this one broke, but the book was irreplaceable, not to mention Chase would never forgive me if I ruined yet another thing.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, crouching to pick it up, praying to every religious figure I could come up with that it hadn't been damaged, especially as it had fallen from my hands and opened when it hit the floor. The spine was cracked out of having been read so many times, courtesy of Chase's habit of annotating his books, but, other than that, it was still immaculate. The person I'd bumped into had also crouched down to help me, almost instinctively, and me dodging the hand they reached out to hold my shoulder had also been completely out of tendency. This person didn't know me and I didn't trust them; they had no business touching me like that. "I was checking my phone instead of watching where I was going."
"It's okay," the person replied. When I looked up, closing the book and bringing it back to me like a wounded child, I found Marco, the infamous Marco, staring right back at me. Up close and not through staged photos on an app or in a dark auditorium, it was easier to note the differences between us instead of focusing on how similar we looked, but he was, undoubtedly, attractive and I didn't think, for a minute, that he was not aware of this fact. "You're . . . Penelope, right? Ingrid has mentioned you a few times."
I was mortified, frozen in place.
I highly doubted he didn't know who I was. I had a recognizable face, courtesy of my parents, their celebrity status, and everything that entailed, so his feigned confusion just struck me as an attempt to lure me in. I wasn't impressed; in fact, knowing he knew who I was because of Ingrid was only making it even worse. He'd cornered me, knowing damn well I'd be obsessing over his words, and my mind instantly raced in agony over the extent of his knowledge.
If Ingrid had talked to him about me, it could mean various things, some of them worse than the others, but, in general, they were all horrible. If she spoke to him, she could have very well done so in October, back when she assumed I'd been in Madrid for the summer with him and was sort of seeing him on the down low, and that had been how she'd found out it wasn't true. Maybe she'd tried asking him how the love affair was going, seeing as I was giving her no clues about it, nor could I, and he'd been left bamboozled about the whole thing, seeing as we'd never spoken to one another before. Maybe she had even tried to set us up after how many times I'd insisted I wasn't interested in dating anyone and she'd thought he was a good match for me for whatever reason. Whatever Ingrid's intentions had been, she'd done more harm than good, as I didn't need more drama in my life or someone else trying to find out whatever secrets I was keeping, not when Ingrid herself had insinuated she knew I was hiding something, Even when she assumed things I'd never confirmed or denied, somehow it was still my fault, and I couldn't let her get to Chase.
"I'm guessing you've already started working on the Hitchcock paper," Marco continued, nodding towards the book I was holding. I clutched it closer, so hard it dug into my ribs. "That copy is really annotated. Is it yours?"
"It's my father's," I corrected. I couldn't give Chase's name, nor could I give my own. Saying I'd annotated it myself would only open the door to more questions, questions I didn't want to answer, and this man needed to be kept on a need-to-know basis. Using my father like this disgusted me, but there were secrets I needed to protect, people I needed to keep safe and away from prying vultures, and I knew he'd spoken about his love for Hitchcock's work and distaste for the man himself in public, a story Marco could easily verify. "It's been helping me."
"Do you think you could give me some pointers? I've only written my name on my essay and it's due next week, so I'm at a complete loss. We could try to work together, maybe?"
I gave him a tight smile, one I hoped wasn't too inviting, but, at the same time, not too rude that it would send him back to Ingrid to report back on how I was definitely hiding something and keeping everyone at bay. "I actually prefer working by myself. I'd recommend checking this book out, though. It gives you a nice insight."
He mimicked my smile, except his revealed a small dimple on his right cheek. "Right. Ingrid said you were a private person."
"I'm sure she has said plenty of stuff about me."
"I know how bad that sounds."
"Please, enlighten me."
He massaged the nape of his neck in embarrassment. The smug look he got from his friends in return told me all I needed to know. "I saw you in Madrid this summer. Just once, but I recognized you." I was certain everyone in the building could hear the thunderous beating of my heart. Just when I thought I'd been so careful, especially with Chase there, Marco was nonchalantly letting me know I hadn't been nearly as successful as I thought; if he'd seen me, there was a chance he could have seen Chase, too. We'd agreed on him not posting anything to social media about his summer, so everyone thought he'd stayed indoors, secluded, much like Stephen, but I'd been generous to my followers. "I saw you the day I left. You were by yourself at the Temple of Debod, and I really, really tried to get the courage to walk up to youâI even had this speech plannedâbut, as soon as I took a step forward, you turned around and left. I knew Ingrid knew you, so I, uh . . . tried to get her to introduce us, but she thought we already knew each other because we'd both been in Madrid at the same time. Funny, right?" I let out a nervous laugh, briefly glancing at my phone. It was a text from Chase, urging me to meet him at his office, and I couldn't stay here one minute longer. The longer this conversation dragged on, the more I risked blowing my cover. "I told her I'd never said a word to you in my life. She then told me you didn't date. She's been telling me that for a while now, actually, and I really don't want to intrude or meddle in your personal business, but that's how far my conversations with her about you have gone. Even when I didn't know you didn't date, she was still pretty respectful of your privacy."
I supposed I could have given Ingrid more credit. In spite of all her flaws, including her annoying tendency to pick up on the smallest cues that people were either lying or keeping something from her, both of which I did on a daily basis, she was still fiercely loyal. She was a lioness, always ready to jump to my defense, even Savannah's back when they weren't friends, and all I'd been doing was completely trashing her character in my head. Though the times when I'd idolized her were long gone, remnants of it still remained, appearing sporadically, mostly in times of need. She wouldn't rest until she figured out what I was hiding, but it brought me a certain twisted comfort to know she was protecting me from probing eyes.
I sensed a but there, as though he'd meant to say I respect that, but I hope you'll change your mind eventually, so I decided to cut it short before he got a chance to drop a comment or two about me having a change of heart.
"I really have to go. I have an entire senior project to plan."
"Oh, okay." His friends were no longer laughing. At best, they felt bad he'd just gotten rejected by someone he didn't even know, someone he had probably imagined would be different from the person standing in front of him. "See you around?"
I waved, in what I hoped would be a casual enough gesture to not leave him considering the could have beens, then spun around on my heels and made my way back outside, into the biting November cold, where I'd have to tread my way towards the offices. This time, I'd had the decency to hide the book inside my coat, walking with my arms firmly crossed in front of my chest to hold it against my body, and lowered my head to protect myself.
As I pushed open the door to the building, my stomach was so frail, so beaten up I feared I'd throw up right then and there. The room was spinning around me, forcing me to support myself on the walls to stand upright on my feet, but this was a place I knew like the back of my hand. I knew where I had to go, how far I needed to push myself, and got to Chase's office in no time, only bothering to knock for the sake of appearance.
When I stumbled towards a chair, defeated, I had enough presence of mine to set the book on the desk before I ruined it, and allowed myself to breathe. In here, I couldn't see my cloudy breath and my hands were no longer shaking, but I was more overwhelmed than ever. The conversation with Marco was still replaying in my head, so unsettling I swore I could feel his presence in the room, even though he'd never been here, and my body boiled from the inside out. He'd had no reason to lie to me, but I'd learned not to believe in the best of people, to not always give them the benefit of the doubt.
"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"
My head jerked up immediately with the sound of Chase's voice. He had his back turned to me, reorganizing his books on his shelves, and all of this, all my inner turmoil must have gone unnoticed by him. Sometimes, I even terrified myself by how good I was at masking things, at lying to people. When did this become my life?
"Nothing," I said. "My family doesn't celebrate it."
"I was thinking about driving upstate, to the cabin. Thought maybe you'd want to come, spend some time away for the holidays." He briefly looked back at me over his shoulder, and maybe I'd recomposed myself just enough to not look like a train wreck, but not enough for it to not be the slightest bit alarming. His eyebrows furrowed. "Did something happen?"
As soon as I opened my mouth, the words came flooding out. I choked halfway through, barely managing to form coherent thoughts and sentences, and highly doubted he was understanding the mindless blabbering that came out of my mouth, but I needed him to know. I needed him to find a way to ease my paranoia, to push away all my gnawing fears and concerns, to tell me we could fix this, to tell me we could and would survive this. I was doing my goddamn best, but I was beginning to worry it wasn't nearly enough.
He listened quietly, impassive, and I wasn't sure whether that was the best possible outcome. I didn't want to anger him or worry him, but his career was the most important thing in his life; how would we survive the fall if I'd ruined it? What if I'd said and done all the wrong things, leading Marco and Ingrid towards a witch hunt?
"He should leave me alone," I concluded. My throat was so sore I barely managed those last few words out, like I'd just swallowed shrapnel. "I did everything I could. I'm sorry if it wasn't enough, but I didn'tâ"
He raised a hand. "No one knows, right?" I shook my head, staring down at my hands, folded over my lap. "But you think Ingrid might be snooping."
"It's just a feeling. A suspicion. She doesn't know, and I never gave her any reasons to suspect I was romantically interested in anyone; she just assumed I was seeing him because we were in Madrid at the same time. Turns out he saw meâjust meâand only once, so it's not nearly as bad asâ"
"It's still bad. This is the kind of situation we need to avoid." Under any other circumstances, his tone would have brought me to tears, but I was so worn out, so exhausted from all the stress, still nauseous from before that it just numbed me down. "We can't give anyone any reasons to be suspicious, as little as they might be."
"This isn't my fault. She assumedâ"
"I didn't say it was your fault."
"Your tone implied it."
"Don't put words into my mouth, Penelope. Please. Otherwise, we'll keep running in circles and I'm over having to have this conversation over and over." I exhaled through my mouth, hoping it would relax me enough to face the rest of this conversation, but it failed. I couldn't make him see this was the best I could do with the resources I had; I wasn't strong enough, bold enough, brave enough to ask all these people to back off without fearing it wouldn't backfire. He didn't know Ingrid like I did, and this was the best way to keep her suspicions away. "I need you to guarantee she stays away."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Do you still want me to go upstate with you?"
"The invitation still stands, yes." That sounded so formal, like I was a business partner instead of his girlfriend, his lover, but there were times I wasn't really sure what I was or what we were. I didn't want to be just another pretty thing for him to fuck and toss aside, but even that would be better than being just something for him to hide. I understood the secrecy, and I understood our need for it, but graduation was still so far away and, even then, we'd still have to wait a few months so it would seem like nothing had happened during my four years of college. "I need some time away from all of this. I don't think it would hurt for the both of us to go."
The tips of my fingers were so white I momentarily thought I'd lose all feeling in my hands. When I leaned forward, pressing the heels of my hands against my forehead to try and ease my incoming migraine, everything rumbled around and underneath me, a Penelope-exclusive earthquake, and I knew I was crumbling under the weight of everything.
I'd asked for this, I'd even welcomed it, and I loved the man on the other side of the desk more than anything in the universe, but I was unsure if it was something tangible enough for my brain to comprehend instead of collapsing in itself. I understood the theory of it all, but I couldn't set things in motion, so, naturally, the problems all resided with me. We both could agree on that.
"Penn," Chase called.
"I'll go," I muttered, standing up from my chair.
"Sit. You look about to pass out."
"No. I'm tired, that's all." I dropped my hands, brushing back my hair. I could see things clearly now, no longer out of focus, yet my eyes refused to look at anything but him. "I'm just tired of feeling like I can't do anything right, like I'm constantly screwing things up. You're pissed off, you're disappointed, and you can't even look at me."
"You're the one who's been looking down this whole time."
"You've had your back turned to me ever since I walked into this office."
"I was reorganizing my shelves. Had been ever since before you walked in. I don't understand why you think I'm pissed off, or disappointed, or that I'm doing this just to spite you. I really don't get it. I don't know why you're so focused on one thing I did, something I wasn't doing because of you, and turning it against me. How is that fair? I can't reorganize the shelves with you here?"
"That's not what I said."
"Penn."
"No. It's okay. I get it. I'll leave you to it. Let me know what time you want me to drive upstate."
My chest was so tight I could hardly breathe, but I couldn't let him know that. He'd see me as weak, so weak I couldn't even handle a simple conversation about going away for the holidays, something he was doing for us, and I was so damn ungrateful.
Then, he walked around the desk, ensured the blinds were closed, and wrapped his arms around me. It felt like coming home, the only home I'd ever known for the past three years, and I felt so ridiculous, so embarrassed for making a big deal out of something this small.
"I don't want to fight with you," he told me, quieter now. This was my Chase, the one I got behind closed doors, not the one I was forced to interact with in public, the one with so much to hide. This was my mess of a man, my life, my soul. "I'm just worried. These risks, these suspicions, they're all really concerning. I want the holidays to not be about that. Can we manage that?"
I sniffled. "I'll try."
His lips brushed against my temple. "We really need to get away from this place."
I only noticed later, in my apartment, that I'd left both my scarf and his book behind in his office, something he texted me about, as he'd have to hide the scarf in a drawer and give me the book some other time, but I couldn't bring myself to care about something else I'd done wrong. I poured myself some gin and tonic, then crawled into an empty space on the couch, right into Ingrid's arms.
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fun fact: this chapter features literal dialogue i've had in my life (translated) so this was a fun time! it's also kinda similar to the all too well short film but it shows gaslighters share a brain. my therapist isn't nearly as amused by this
did u kno? i survive on gin and tonic immediately after breakups. penn knows her drinks