Freddie

I was alone in a deserted little cafe a couple of blocks away from the university, where I had decided to hide from the world while I attempted to gather my bearings. I had walked all the way there; Charles, I had left at Princeton still with his yellow car idling in the lot. The last hour was spent partly in a cigarette, which I had to smoke outside due to some fucking city ordinance or whatever- but mostly, in just sitting there by myself, staring blankly out the large front window and rubbing the chill out of my hands as much as I could.

"Still doing all right, sir?" my waitress asked as she came round again. When I nodded, she questioned me further, "The thermostat's on seventy-nine. Is it warm enough for you now?"

No matter how high I had the waitress turn up the heating, I was thoroughly unable to warm up. Icy water coursed through my veins, setting me to shivering even though I was still quite tightly bundled up in my leather coat. Even my cup of tea, which was steaming hot when she brought it to me, scalded my tongue but nothing else. I might as well have still been outside in the freezing wind for all the good it did me.

I grimaced through a lie. "It's lovely. Thank you."

That's when the door swung open, and a familiar hulking shape entered the restaurant. "There you are!" he boomed triumphantly.

My brows rose. "Charles!" I cleared my throat, stood to shake his hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to track you down, is what," he replied. "And after all that fuss you made this morning about me running off on you!"

I ignored that last remark. "How did you find me?"

"Sheer luck," he shrugged.

"I find that a bit hard to believe."

Charles just smiled. "Mind if I sit down?"

I waved him closer, offered him the chair across from me. In his hand I noticed he held my notebook; as soon as he took his seat he passed it over.

"Thank you," I murmured. "I doubt I'll need it at the moment, though."

He shrugged again. "You never know."

"Right."

My driver looked past my shoulder and nodded. "You've really made a splash in the world, haven't you?"

"What do you-" I turned around, and saw an entertainment chat show on one of the televisions, which was showing a still frame of me at the station the day before, lined up with a photo of myself from Live Aid. "Oh, right. That."

The subtitles were rolling, but I didn't care enough to see what they were saying about me. I'd heard it all by that point, from the English music press back home; there wasn't much more that could be printed about me that hadn't already been printed, I believed.

I was wrong, of course. But anyway.

The waitress came by and asked if Charles wanted anything, to which he responded with a single shake of the head. Meanwhile, my eyes drifted toward the large, colorful, and very distracting screen near the end of the bar- I suppose some sort of futuristic jukebox, because it showed a picture of a lovely dark-haired woman with the words "Now Playing: 'Don't Know Why' by Norah Jones" underneath.

I looked up, as if searching for the notes floating overhead, and listened a little closer.

It was some soft, laid-back little song, featuring your typical jazz combo in the backing track while a breathy voice crooned some wistful lyrics. The mood it set reminded me of "My Melancholy Blues"; in fact, its tempo I found very similar to that of the first version of my song. A lot of people didn't know that there was another, earlier version of "My Melancholy Blues" aside of the track featured on News of the World- one which was faster and included a second verse.

Julia knows, though, I said to myself without thinking. She was there.

I brought it on myself. Too late I fought back against the rush of emotions I had been valiantly suppressing since I sat down. That dull ache in my chest returned, and all of a sudden it was very hard not to absolutely lose it right then and there. Damn you, Julia. That's all it takes, it seems, is your name...

Charles must have seen my expression change. Very quietly, he asked, "What is it?"

I rubbed my face, let out a long sigh through my nose. "I want to go home."

He hesitated, then nodded his head. "Sure. I'll - I'll take you back to the house."

"No," I said. "I mean, I want to go home. Back to Munich."

"Munich?"

"Yes. Munich. Where I was a week ago. Where I belong. I can't take this anymore."

Strangely, Charles didn't even care to ask what I was talking about. "Take what?"

"Being near her. That's what. I've had it."

He blinked. "Near who?"

"Who do you think," I sighed.

"Oh, um- Dr. Preus's girlfriend? Ms. Sa-"

"She's called Julia, thank you very much," I cut him off coldly. "And it's not Jules, either. It's Julia. Only a complete idiot would call her the other thing."

Charles nodded. "More problems with Dr. Preus, I guess?"

"No, um- not this time."

That caught his attention. He leaned forward, interested. "Then what?"

I proceeded to tell him. Unfortunately, this was not one of those times where the best way to handle my problems was to talk about them. With every detail, my defenses weakened, to the point where I ended up swamped by all the really horrible emotions one cannot simply shake off at will to the point where I could scarcely see straight any longer.

Tony, I seethed silently, you disgusting, lying piece of shit... You're lucky I didn't break your neck right in front of her.

He had come at a time when I was trying to make myself open up to Julia at last about my feelings- my true feelings. And yes, I had been somewhat volatile there in the beginning- but only because I was nervous, and having last-minute second thoughts about whether I even wanted to do this thing and risk looking like a desperate fool who despite all his best efforts to the contrary still could not let go of something that started eight years ago, continued over the span of a measly two weeks, and ended with her departure.

And like practically any other time I balked when I had something terribly important to reveal, something else cut in first and snatched my chance away.

However, unlike any other time, I truly doubted there was any bouncing back from this one.

It was over. My luck had run dry. I saw how she looked at me after that nasty little liar came, saw, and conquered; it was a look that could wither a vast field of flowers in full bloom (in retrospect, I suppose it was a lucky thing I accidentally left that bouquet of red roses in the car). There was no way I could have explained myself in that moment, and be believed. My God, after this, what were the chances she would believe anything I said from now on?

What difference did it even make? It wasn't as though she had ever believed in me in the first place. Antonio simply cemented in her mind yet again that I was a lascivious bounder who only wanted her for sex- that she was one of hundreds, no different from the rest. What of it? It was nothing new. All I wanted from anyone was sex. She said so herself once, long ago.

Fuck her, I thought, trying to be dismissive- and failing. I don't care if she loves or hates me. Who cares what she thinks? I don't. Let her hate me, she's always hated me, if she loved me she wouldn't have left. I don't care. I'm leaving in a few hours as it is, going home to be surrounded by people who adore me. Or rather- people who adore my parties- and my money. Right. Well, I mean, that's just as good, I suppose.

When I finished telling him about the morning, Charles's lips were slightly parted in shock- and my fists were tight and deadly.

"So what did you do?" he whispered at last.

"Me? Nothing. There was nothing I could do," I sighed in a manner that was meant to be nonchalant. "No point in stressing over what you can't fix, right?"

Charles just looked at me. "You mean- you didn't even explain?"

"Why should I? She wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise anyway."

"Mm." His voice was level as he nodded. "So. Giving up already."

"What do you mean, already?" I snapped. "It's been a whole week. That's seven days too long- and I am not giving up, I'm not giving up anything, what the fuck do you mean by that anyway?"

Once again, he remained silent- which somehow made me even angrier. "Answer me!"

"Why are you shouting?"

"Because apparently that's the only way anyone can hear me, is if I scream!" I cried. "Can you hear me now? Can you?"

"I- hear you just fine."

"Of course you do- because I'm yelling! But she? She's stone deaf- like a fucking Beethoven, she is! Not a word gets through! Not then, not now! I could shout at the top of my voice and she wouldn't hear a single fucking sound! Why? Because it's me!"

The waitress peered out, concern lining her forehead. Charles began, "Rick-"

"Shut up!" I stood from the table and began to pace, my voice echoing against the tiled floor. "I tell you, it's no use! No fucking use whatever! Nothing I say matters. Nothing. What everyone else says? Oh, that's pure. That's complete. That's the undisputed truth but OH, if I'm the one who opens his mouth and tries to explain, there is no mercy, no benefit of the doubt! Not for me, not for Mr. Bad Guy! All I do is destroy, leave lives in ruin because it's fun. That's who I am. That's who she thinks I am because that's what people tell her and that's what she chooses to believe and that's the end of that.

"And it doesn't matter what I say about myself, what I reveal to her that's deep inside me and hidden away- because it doesn't fit with the image she's built . There's no way to win! It's impossible! So, now, I ask you Charles, why should I keep on trying? Why? Why?"

Charles didn't miss a beat. "Because you love her."

My face blanched. I didn't see that coming. "What?"

"Because you love her." He cocked his head. "Don't you?"

My lips parted, perhaps at first to deny it, but no words would come, save one. I didn't want to say it. I wanted to keep beating around the truth instead of facing it- but at this point, what with learning the truth about Stuart and making love with her last night, there was nothing else to do, really, except surrender.

I lowered my head, sat back down, and shuddered quietly. "Yes," I whispered. "I love her."

Charles nodded. "I know."

"I don't want to, though," I murmured. "I've never wanted to love her. Never. I just do; the woman left me and I still love her. It's so fucking stupid. But I mean I - I suppose I can't help it."

That's why it killed me to see her so unhappy, to watch her and Danny live as Stuart's prisoners, to hear her pine for a man who didn't deserve to speak to her, let alone father her son- and to know that no matter what, Julia and I could not be together. I didn't want to love her, I didn't want to care- but feelings have a way of being terribly disobedient.

Not that it mattered of course. Because it didn't.

"Does she know?" Charles asked quietly.

I shook my head. "No."

"You haven't told her?"

"She wouldn't believe it. Certainly not now."

Forget that even after eight fucking years I still spent some nights lying wide awake, racking my brain for the reasons why she might have left me. Forget that in recent months I had very quietly taken to wearing that old ring on a regular basis- though on my right hand to avoid any prying questions, as I knew there would be if I made the mistake of wearing it on my left, where it belonged. Forget that in one of my weakest, most desperate moments, I had brought a young blonde girl up to my New York apartment many years ago just because she looked like my stray kitten. It didn't matter. I could tell her these things and more, so much more- and she would accept none of it.

But people like Antonio, she believed without question. Wonderful.

"God, why does this keep fucking happening?" I cried suddenly. "What am I, His little sort of tragic plaything? Is it just that much fun for Him to see me cut into pieces? What?"

Charles sat there silently for a bit, his lips pressed in a straight line, until at last he whispered, "I'm sorry."

I looked up. "Hm?"

He swallowed. "I am so sorry, Freddie. I never wanted you to have to endure this-"

"Hang on, what- what did you just call me?"

Charles coughed. "Sorry, I mean- Rick."

I almost smiled. "I think the news is getting to you or something."

"Perhaps. Yes." He nodded quietly.

My fingers drummed restlessly against the tabletop. I could feel myself settling down again, from frustration back into melancholy. "Well, anyway, I think- we might as well be going."

"Where? Back to Princeton?"

"Mm."

"Right now? I thought you wanted to wait until this evening."

I shook my head. "The longer I'm here, the more I fuck things up; I should go now before I cause any more trouble." I scanned the place for my waitress so I could call for the check, but she was nowhere to be found; I suppose my little outburst had scared her away.

"As you wish." Charles stood up. "Did you want to stop by Julia's office first?"

I blinked. "Why?"

He just looked at me, mouth working as though he was viciously sinking his teeth into his own tongue. Just barely he managed to utter, "You know, to say good-bye?"

"I can just call her, I think," I said quietly. "Yes, that would be best."

At this rate, I didn't think either of us could even stand to look at each other anymore.

My driver hesitated, then with obvious reluctance reached into his coat pocket to pull out his Magic Mirror. "Here's my phone, go right ahead. I'm going to go bring the car around front."

I thanked him, then with a sigh, I looked back down at it and realized I still didn't know her number- and at the moment, I did not feel like wasting time by going through Brenda. "Charles! Wait, um- what's her extension again?"

"3827."

"3827, right. Thank you." After I dialed, the waitress tiptoed into view, and I called for the check. She nodded, then scurried away like a frightened mouse. I sighed. Ah, yes. I do have that effect on people.

Two rings later, the receiver clicked, and Julia's voice greeted me so cheerfully I had to wonder if this morning had happened, "Ms. Samuels speaking."

I swallowed. "Hello, darling."

A pause. Then, much more coolly, "Oh. Hello."

"I'll make this fast, Julia, I'm sure you're quite busy," I whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I lied. "I just, um- I wanted to tell you-"

I had intended to say "goodbye" at first, but that's not what left my lips. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't leave things like this between us. I had to work this out. She had to understand.

Suddenly I found myself trying to explain: "Julia, listen- this morning, what Antonio said-"

"Freddie, I don't have time for this."

"Please! Just listen. I can't leave without clearing this up, what he said about-"

"I told you, there's nothing to clear up, there's nothing to apologize for. I really don't know what you're so worried about. It's fine. Really it is."

"But it wasn't true! And what's more, the parts that- the things he was being honest about, there's a reason-"

"I'm sure there is, Freddie, but at the moment, I can't sit here and just listen to you explain yourself, especially when there's absolutely no need. Now, whatever else you have to say, I wish you would, I have to call one of Danny's teachers back as soon as we hang up."

I checked myself. "Danny's teacher? Why?"

She drew a heavy sigh. "Apparently, he cussed her out today and he's earned himself a little detention-and such perfect timing, too, right before Christmas-"

"Oh, whoa, whoa, stop there. Danny, as in, Mr. Phantom?"

"Yes."

For whatever reason, I had to fight down a laugh. The idea of Danny swearing at all tickled me so strangely, much the way watching Julia launch into a tirade of obscenities did. "He - swore at his teacher?"

"Yep." Her voice became less cool, more ironic. "It would seem he dropped the f-bomb on her during art class today."

In a trice, it was no longer funny. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. So, I'm calling her to tell her thank you for letting me know- and then I'm calling Lauren's mom to tell her not to worry about picking up Danny, too."

I frowned. "So then- who's going to get him?"

"I'll ask Roxie if she can," she sighed.

"Dear, you don't have to do that. I can pick him up, his school's not that far from where I am, I think."

Much to my dismay, however, Julia answered, "No, no, I wouldn't dream of putting you out like that. I'll just-"

"Darling, really, it's fine! I'd be happy to."

"No, it's okay. I promise. Go do something fun, don't worry about this."

I might have continued to argue with her, but I knew it wouldn't get me anywhere, and what was more, I could hear her very patience beginning to wane. So I withdrew. "Right, then. I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks anyway," she said.

"Not at all."

"Good bye now."

"Mm."

And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me, that over the course of almost a whole week, we had gotten absolutely nowhere fast. We were right back where we started on Sunday morning- no more than strangers, where once upon a time we had been no less than lovers.

And my God. That poor little boy. That's my fault too, isn't it?

The waitress brought me the tab, but I hardly noticed. Without warning I slammed my hand down hard onto the table, and the poor girl jumped as she headed away. But again, I paid little heed. For in that instant, I had made up my mind.

Maybe I couldn't mend things between myself and Julia. Maybe that ship had sailed her last voyage many years before. As sad as it made me to think, that certainly seemed where we stood. But while I was still here, I could at least take the fall for the sake of innocent little Danny.

Fuck it. I'll get him anyway. Then I'm leaving.

I paid for the check, then burst back out into the cold, where the car sat waiting. "Charles, change of plans..."