Academic Validation And Other Plagues
I TOOK EXTRA long in the shower that next day in anticipation for the exhibit, I didn’t know why I was so nervous about everything- maybe it was because this was an actual exhibit that could be the exposure I needed to get where I wanted to be in my career. I slipped into a silk black dress and heels, if I was in Florida people would’ve said I was overdressed, but this was literally Paris and if I was doing too much it wouldn’t even matter.
I went to the salon to get braids done yesterday and my hair was still a little sore but they looked pretty good, they weren’t too long, and they merely brushed my elbows. I gave myself a pep talk in the mirror before heading out of the bathroom to find Keomi curled up with a book on her bed.
‘You look so hot!’ Keomi gushed dropping her book, ‘Please drop the boys and marry me?’
‘I’m seriously considering it.’ I lied, knowing there probably wasn’t in thing in the world right now that could make me drop the boy. River Kennedy. ‘Are you sure it’s not too much?’
‘If anything it’s too little, you look drop-dead gorgeous ma chérie.’ Keomi complimented and I thanked her, just then my phone began to ring, it was Papa.
Papa hadn’t called me much since I got here, it had been almost two months and he’d only called once or twice to make sure I was still alive. Papa and I had an odd relationship, one where we were never particularly affectionate towards each other but we knew we cared regardless. He wasn’t particularly supportive of my artistic path at first and tried to threaten me with going back to Kenya if I chose to pursue it when I was in my senior year of high school, but once that didn’t work he settled for it.
Papa came from a very traditional family that expected certain things from their oldest children, and then he had me and I was born with a fire within myself that even he couldn’t extinguish. He couldn’t control me and when he realized that, he backed away, maybe a little bit too far but it was best for the both of us. And yet despite everything, some part of me was still his little girl, his first everything, and when I looked at him I still saw him through the eyes of my childhood wonder, a vision of this man who I loved and who loved me and who could protect me from the world and promised that he’d never let me down.
‘Papa,’ I said softly once I answered the phone,
‘Habari yako, habari za nyumbani?’ How are you, how is home?
‘Kila kitu kiko sawa nyumbani, you can spare me the pleasantries, how are your studies?’ Papa asked and I looked over to the pile of textbooks I was previously going through on the floor,
‘Everything is going well, we are almost done with our exams,’ I told him grabbing my purse,
‘Very well, I anticipate your results, and I trust that little hobby of yours that I’ve paid tooth and nail for is paying off?’ He asked, since I was a kid he’d always called my art a little hobby in an attempt to portray his disdain for it.
‘Yes, it is!’ I assured him, ‘In fact, I’m on my way to accept an award for it.’ Keomi made eye contact with me at that moment and looked at me like I’d completely lost it.
‘Make me proud binti yangu.’ He said and I took a deep dreary breath and shut my eyes,
‘I never intended on doing anything less,’ I mumbled and he hung up the phone.
‘Why did you say you’d already won?’ Keomi asked, ‘You don’t know that yet, these things are never that easy.’
‘I had to tell him something, he was grilling me to death,’ I confessed and she just shot me a condescending glare.
What I really meant was; most of the time I felt like I had to earn his love, and sometimes I just wanted to feel like he was proud of me, so I said things I didn’t mean. But I couldn’t tell her that, it was messy, and people never know what to do with messy.
‘Good luck!’ Keomi called as I was heading out the door with my painting covered with a thin white sheet, ‘But then again I also wished River good luck so I think that I’m cheating in a way-‘
“I always knew you were two-faced.” I joked, closing the door.
The Paris museum of modern arts was the most beautiful and yet intimidating place I’d ever been, I was surrounded by priceless art by painters who started out just like me. There were statues and critics everywhere silently judging our artwork, it’s almost as though they’d mastered the art of keeping a straight face. It was almost impossible to tell whose piece caught their eye.
The good news was that I definitely wasn’t overdressed because everyone was dripping with wealth and class. I could’ve sworn I’d seen the dress Victoria was wearing on the cover of Vogue Paris a few weeks ago. It was a velvety dark green strapless gown with a slit along its side. She was gorgeous and paired with her crimson lipstick she looked like she was in a James Bond movie. Thomas Claud wore a Burberry navy green suit that I’d have to cut off my left leg to even look at, and Elle wore a scandalous Vera Wang formal gown that barely brushed her knees, it was gorgeous.
But as always out of the crowd my eye caught River’s, and so help me God it took protest from every bone in my body not to want to kiss him right then and there. River had this timeless, casual beauty about him and it made me want to wish that there was a River Kennedy for every girl through every century, everyone deserved to experience someone so bewitching of the mind, body and soul. He wore an obsidian Valentino suit that made him appear as though he were straight out of an old classic French film.
He looked up from behind his generous pair of eyelashes and smiled with his eyes when he saw me, I was frozen and I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled and waved awkwardly. It was crazy how after a month he still managed to get me so flustered and beside myself. Monsieur Etienne called out to us to gather around and I’d assumed that it was time to announce the winner, and I was more than prepared to accept my award, if it were to be given to me.
I stood beside Victoria and her eyes brightened with amusement,
‘Nervous?’ She asked applying another layer of smooth red lipstick to her full lips,
‘I haven’t a reason to be,’ I assured her, and her eyes narrowed with curiosity,
‘Is that so?’ She questioned, ‘Don’t be so sure of yourself little bird, for there are other creatures with wings just as grand as yours that soar these skies.’
I swallowed hard and rolled my eyes at her before stepping forward once the winner’s name was announced, but to my great surprise, It was not mine.
It was not my name that slipped past the lips of Eloise Alarie, It was not my painting that caught her eye and it would not be me accepting that award today. I would go home empty-handed.
But River Kennedy would not.
And I wondered if he ever did.
But judging by Victoria’s smug knowing grin, I assumed quite the contrary.
‘We were enchanted by all of your pieces here today and we thank you, young protégés of St Katherines, for your efforts,’ Eloise announced, holding up River’s painting of The River Seine, and it was only until I looked closer and saw that it was not water that ran through it, but blood. I realised what was so enthralling about it.
It captured the emotion, it captured this scene of Paris that isn’t as pretty and perfect as we often picture it to be. It showed a darker side, of gloomy skies and tainted waters that no one dared conquer, no one until him. I took a step back and it felt like I’d suffered a blow to the head and a punch in the stomach. Victoria sighed in pity at me, she knew and she was right this entire time. How could I ever compete with him, he was Monsieur Etienne’s prodigy, he was a rare talent and compared to him I was merely ordinary. Compared to River I was nothing, & for the first time in my life, I lost.
And it was then I realised that if everyone else was snow and I was a storm, that River Kennedy was a goddamn hurricane. And I would be a fool to think I could compete.
I felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs, what would I tell Papa? What would he think of me after I’d lied to him like that, I couldn’t let him down like that. I felt like I was having a panic attack and I didn’t even notice when River’s hand placed itself on my shoulder, his presence was electric and right now I was water and I couldn’t handle it.
‘Are you okay?’ River asked, his eyes held a level of concern I hadn’t seen from anyone before, no one had ever looked at me like that.
‘I- I just need some air.’ I told him, I didn’t know why but I was angry and he was the easiest person to blame, I wanted him to leave me alone and not rub it in my face that he’d won, ‘Go claim your inevitable victory, Kennedy.’
I shifted away from his touch and he looked slightly hurt- but at this point, it was all too much but I didn’t care. Just then I felt someone grab hold of my hand, and it was Victoria and before I knew it she was leading me away from the scene.
‘You’ve got to get a grip, Armani!’ She scolded when we were outside, ‘If you’re going to lose your shit every time you lose to the guy you like, who in this case is Kennedy, this is going to be a very long semester for you.’
‘It’s not fair, I worked so hard to be here.’ I retorted, ‘And he- he just-‘
‘And you think he didn’t? You think he just magically appeared here at one of the most prestigious art academies in all of France?’ Victoria marvelled, ‘You’re a lot of things but you’re not stupid.’
I took a deep breath in an attempt to regain my composure.
‘I know it hurts to lose, trust me I know. I saw you back there, you’re entitled to be angry but not at River because he beat you. Only at yourself.’ Victoria explained and at this point she was out of breath,
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I admitted, feeling the frustration melt into hurt, “I told my dad I had already won, he’s going to be expecting to see an award.”
“You do not win for your father, do you hear me?” Victoria insisted, placing both hands on my shoulders, “You don’t win for anyone but yourself.”
“It’s just so hard, having all these expectations on my name.” I confided in her, feeling rather defeated.
“Everyone has expectations on their name, everyone is carrying weights on their shoulders, it’s just a matter of how heavy in comparison.” She told me, sharing a little truth.
‘I’ve been a selfish bitch haven’t I?’ I groaned, taking a seat by the water fountain and she sat down next to me.
‘No doubt in the world about that.’ Victoria replied sarcastically, ‘If you can’t accept losing Armani darling you’ll never win. I believe it was Norman Vincent Peale who once said that ‘If you believe you’ve been defeated and if you believe it long enough, it’s likely to become a fact.’
‘I hate that you’re always right.’ I groaned,
‘Come on, let’s take a walk,’ Tori suggested holding out a hand to me and pulling me up.
We took a break from the hustle and bustle of the museum and took a walk down the Seine, and even then I couldn’t help but see him in everything. Victoria stopped and pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes from her purse and began to light it.
‘Are you going to do that, right now in front of me?’ I asked and she laughed, placing the cigarette to her lips and taking a swig.
‘My last smoking buddy ditched me.’ Victoria disclosed looking over across the deep blue waters of the Seine.
‘That sucks, where are they ?’ I asked and she shook her head with a contradictory grin,
‘Over there.’ She said gesturing to the Père Lachaise Cemetery across the river, ‘Six feet under.’
‘Who was your last smoking buddy?’ I asked, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt but I felt as though I already knew the answer.
‘Jace Monet.’ She told me, ‘que son âme repose en paix.’ May his soul Rest In Peace.
It felt like I’d heard his name more than my own since I’d arrived at St Kathrine’s like his presence loomed over me and everyone he’d ever met despite him being long gone. Jace Monet was dead but it was evident to me that his spirit lived on and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t escape it. A cold gust of wind caught us both and I wrapped my arms around myself to soothe my goosebumps.
‘Did you know him well?’ I asked,
‘Jace and I talked to each other, right here, when life and everything got too complicated,’ Victoria told me,
‘Can I ask you something?’ I wondered in the hopes that maybe she could finally be the one to tell me,
‘Of course, little bird.’ She smiled,
‘What was he like?’ I asked, I’d only ever seen one picture of him and it was only for a few seconds and what I knew about him was minimal considering nobody I knew wanted to talk about him.
‘He was like a fever dream.’ Victoria said taking one long puff from her cigarette, ‘Sometimes it feels like he was never really there.’
‘Incredibly vague description there Tori, I didn’t take you for one to beat around the bush.’ I reproached and she shut her eyes for a moment with a knowing smile playing in her lips,
‘Jace and I met here in Paris a summer before we started at St Katherine’s, he said he was offered a place here a year before but he gave it up.’ Victoria disclosed and I couldn’t imagine why anyone in their right mind would give up a place here.
‘Why would he do that?’ I scoffed and she looked up at the gloomy Parian sky,
‘For friendship. For River.’ She told me and I was taken aback, ‘I told him it was a mistake but he insisted that he was willing to wait, and make a sacrifice for his friend whom he believed had much more to offer the school than he ever did.’
‘That’s…that’s-‘ I began but she cut me off,
‘Impulsive? Careless? Yes. Jace Monet was a lot of good things but he didn’t come without a fair number of flaws.’ Victoria asserted, ‘I knew him well, and we spent quite a lot of time together but I’ll tell you one thing you mustn’t forget.’
‘What is it?’ I asked and her sharp dark eyes held a level of solemnity I’d never seen before,
‘It was as though Michelangelo wished on a star and two came true, In Jace there was River and in River lives Jace too,’ Victoria said and she tossed the remainder of her cigarette onto the pavement and crushed it beneath her heel.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, “Sorry, I don’t speak Shakespeare!”
‘All in due time, little bird.’ She foreshadowed and kissed me on the cheek, ‘Now go make it up to him or you’ll regret it.’
I realised that I’d been a total dick to River earlier, I was just jealous and angry at myself for not taking Monsieur’s advice. I didn’t even stay to watch him get his award, nor did I bother to congratulate him on his achievement. That was low, even for me.
It was for that reason that I decided that I would be driving across town to his penthouse to apologise for my behaviour. I wasn’t the kind of person who could not admit when they were wrong, and I was wrong so fucking wrong.
I made a stop at one of the local convenience stores to buy a congratulatory card, but the only ones available were the ones that read; I’m sorry for your loss, Happy Hawneka, and merry Christmas. I couldn’t show up at his place empty-handed so I picked out the Christmas card, plus it’s the thought that counts right? Yeah, let’s go with that. I decided that it would be a good idea to go. I searched for vegan cupcakes to make up for the shitty card when I remembered Fabian mentioned his mom had a little café just nearby.
Mrs Lyon’s bakery was on the corner of 3rd street and had the most beautiful array of flowers for sale outside, dandelions, and the sweet scent of ambrosia that reminded me of my auntie Zahra’s vineyard. That mixed with the scent of freshly baked bread and croissants, I made my way inside and noticed that Fabian was behind the counter. Wearing a little baker’s hat and apron, he looked adorable and when he saw me he looked a little self-conscious. He had absolutely no reason to be, I thought it was the sweetest thing that he helped out his mom in the mornings before school.
Camille Lyon was a once-famous actress from the ’80s but she’d settled down to have a family and opened up her café as a pastime, not that she ever needed to work again being the wife of the Marquess.
‘Welcome to Slice of Heaven new customer!’ Fabian announced, playing into his role and I smiled at his efforts, ‘Looking for anything in particular or see something that tickles your fancy?’
‘I like your hat.’ I teased leaning over and patting it,
‘Yeah yeah, I get it.’ He cringed, waving his arms in surrender, ‘We have some cherry glazed doughnuts coming out the kitchen in a few?’
‘Actually quite the contrary, do you guys have anything vegan?’ I asked and he rolled his eyes knowingly,
‘You’re too good for him, you know that?’ Fabian advanced folding his arms behind the cash register,
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ I replied sarcastically, ‘But not today, I think I fucked up and I’m trying to make things right.’
Just then a petite brunette with silver whisps spun into her effortless chestnut brown hair covered in flour and wearing an apron that said kiss the cook, don’t touch the buns came out and placed her hands on her hips in exhaustion. I turned my gaze to Fabian who looked slightly alarmed now, and then back to her. He had her eyes, those same empathetic deep hazel eyes.
‘Fabian, qu’est-ce que je vous ai dit sur le flirt avec mes clients?’ She scolded, what did I tell you about flirting with my clients?
‘Maman je ne flirtais pas, c’est mon amie de l’école!’ Fabian groaned, I wasn’t flirting with her. She’s my friend from school, ‘Armani.’
And at that, her eyes softened and her gaze met mine and she gave me a welcoming smile, he had her smile too. The type that made you feel like you mattered, and like you were seen.
‘Désolé, you must be the mystery girl my son won’t stop talking about.’ She grinned, swatting him playfully on the shoulder, ‘You sure know how to pick the good ones.’
‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Lyon, your café is lovely.’ I complimented,
‘Merci, I wouldn’t be able to keep it running without Fabian here helping out every day.’ She said, planting a kiss on his cheek and he smiled at her.
‘If you’re ever hiring, I’d love to work here after school,’ I suggested,
‘I’m afraid as of right now the café is full, but if a position opens up I’ll let you know chérie.’ She assured me, taking out a notepad, ‘Now what can I get you?’
‘Do you have any vegan options?’ I asked,
‘Of course, what’re you looking for?’ She questioned,
‘Cupcakes perhaps?’ I advanced,
‘We’ve got vegan salted peanut butter and vegan Belgian chocolate.’ She told me pointing to the notice board,
‘Alright I’ll have the Belgian choc-‘ I began but Fabian cut me off,
‘She’ll have the salted peanut butter,’ Fabian said as he packaged the four cupcakes, ‘River’s allergic to chocolate, complément de la maison,’ On the house.
‘No Fabian I can’t accept that, I’ll pay for it and you can keep the change, it’s okay.’ I refuted digging in my purse for the money and handing it to Mrs Lyon politely.
‘No no chérie, keep your money, think of it as a taste test, and if you like them be sure to come back next time you’re craving something sweet, yes?’ She offered,
‘Thank you, I really appreciate your kindness.’ I thanked her just as Fabian handed me the paper bag.
Just as I was out the door I snuck a taste of the frosting and it turned out I was a fan of both of Mrs Lyon’s creations. If only I could combine them both and have a Fabian-flavoured cupcake. Oh God, that sounded more morbid than sweet.
When I rang the bell in the elevator to request for River to let me up, I realized that perhaps I was crazy to be showing up unannounced at his penthouse at nine PM. Maybe he didn’t even want to see me, God knows I wouldn’t want anything to do with me after that little stunt I pulled at the exhibit. But to my surprise, he let me up anyway. When the elevator doors opened my eyes caught River’s who looked like he’d just come out of the shower because his dark hair was still wet and so was the neck of his black T-shirt.
I didn’t know where to start so I just walked in and placed the card and cupcakes on the fancy kitchen counter. He didn’t say anything, he just sat across from me and waited for me to speak. I pushed the cupcakes and card over to him across the table.
‘I’m sorry.’ I apologised and he looked up at me in the way he did when he knew something I didn’t. ‘For today.’
‘You don’t have to apologise.’ He concluded, analysing my facial expressions as though he were trying to read me.
‘But I do, I was jealous,’ I confessed and he lifted an eyebrow in confusion,
‘Of me?’ He asked,
‘Always of you.’ I assured him, ‘I’m not used to losing to anyone, and when I heard Eloise call out your name instead of mine I freaked out and I was an asshole to you and you didn’t deserve it, I’m sorry.’
River reached his hand over to me, painfully slow.
Firstly he ran a single finger down the side of my face, and then he used his hand to caress my cheek and I leaned into his touch instinctively. Like my body had never known any other way, I closed my eyes and I was safe in the darkness.
‘Are you mad at me?’ I asked in anticipation, as his thumb slid over my eyelids, my nose, then the fullness of my lips,
‘All the time.’ He replied, his voice honest and deep, ‘But not for that, or any of the reasons you may think.’
‘I’m mad at you all the time too,’ I whispered against his touch,
‘I know.’ He cooed, ‘I know…’
I opened my eyes as I was released from his touch. He opened the card and smiled with amusement.
‘You didn’t have to do all of this, no one’s ever done anything like this for me.’ He disclosed looking up at me, God I could look into those eyes forever.
‘You deserve it,’ I assured him,
‘What if I don’t?’ He countered and it scared me that he was genuinely asking me this,
‘You deserve all the good things, you just do,’ I assured him, we all do. ‘Here, try this.’
I took out one of the salted peanut butter cupcakes and I swore it took me forever to find a spoon from one of the many, many kitchen cabinets. I scooped some frosting onto the spoon and fed it to him, he tried to protest but I told him to stop being such a baby about it and he tasted it anyways.
‘Mrs Lyon’s?’ He asked knowingly,
‘Of course,’ I replied, I dipped my finger into more icing, and just as I was about to put it in my mouth River took my hand and licked the icing off of me, his mouth was oddly pleasant against my skin.
‘Fuck you for that.’ I laughed, slightly flustered,
‘Only at your request.’ He teased with a devilish grin.
River and I studied in the living room for our history test tomorrow in which I was convinced I was going to fail but he assured me that wasn’t going to happen. He was good at doing that, reassuring me.
‘I’m hungry and there’s nothing edible in your fridge,’ I whined afterwards, I grabbed his car keys on the counter and he dared me with his eyes, it was a fucking Porsche.
‘I’m driving!’ I insisted,
‘You’re not driving my car.’ He protested,
‘Hell yeah, I am.’ I declared but he somehow managed to fight me for the keys.
Afterwards, we decided to go downtown to an elegant restaurant called the Heirloom Café, in which I had a lovely steak dinner and River ate literal grass as per usual. I wondered how he managed to not eat meat or any animal-made products like ever? It was odd but then again so was he.
It was nice to see this side of him that wasn’t so caught up in everything, it was nice for him to just be River. He drove me back to campus and I nearly fell asleep in his car. A song by a band called The Neighborhood played as I watched him stare out at the open road.
