When his section was over, right at the moment Alessandro entered Claire, and Sewanee was about to take over the narration, Nick drank some water and flicked a finger at the tablet.
“Why’d she change point of view here? It was just getting good.”
Sewanee saw an opportunity and decided to take it, hoping it might connect him more to the text. “Because June knew how to take formula and elevate it.”
“In what way?”
“She knew the point of view should belong to the person–the character–who has the most to lose. The foreplay is from his perspective because he wants this so badly and she may not give it to him and, worse, she may not come apart in his hands, may prove him a fraud. But once he enters her, once he is inside her, he’s won. The rest is from her perspective because this is her moment of transformation. From this point on, she will never be the same.”
Nick stared at her. “Oh.”
Sewanee went back to her tablet. Took a breath. And began. “I was so full. I’d been so empty, for so long, even before my husband died, and now?”
She read, as she often did, without a mistake, entering the near fugue state that happened when she was fully invested. This scene–these scenes–were entire books in miniature: rising action, climax, denouement. As such, she let her voice rise, crescendo, fall.
Slowly, she brought it home, the aftermath:
“He braced himself on his elbows over me, so as not to crush me. He kissed the side of my neck, gave me one last, long stroke, and pulled out. He stood and walked, like David come to life, into the bathroom. Shut the door. I floated nicely for a few minutes, waiting for him to come back. When he did, when I heard the bathroom door open, I expected him to crawl back into bed with me. He didn’t. His footsteps stopped and I opened my eyes. He was fully dressed. Collecting our wineglasses. Moving to the bar. Turning on the faucet. I came up on an elbow.”
Nick murmured, “It’s later than I thought. I have a meeting.”
“I looked at the ornate rococo clock above the mantel. ‘It’s ten,’ I said.”
“Time got away from me.”
“You have a meeting at ten o’clock at night?”
“It’s the only time she had.”
“She? I said it aloud: ‘She?’ He dried the glasses now.”
“Prospective client.”
“You have a client right here.”
“Clients pay.”
“My anger flared. ‘Fine. How much to not be an asshole?’ He set the wineglasses down and walked over to the bed. Stood above it. Stood above me.”
“Trust me, this is what you need right now: distance. I’ll be back by midnight. You’re welcome to stay until then.”
“With that, he turned heel, picked up his jacket, walked to the door. And left. He left. Left. I couldn’t stay here a moment longer. Shaking, I clambered out of the bed, got dressed, tried to gather my wits so I didn’t leave anything–dear God, please don’t let me leave anything–hastily ran my fingers through my hair, fumbled with the straps of my shoes, and staggered to the door. I turned back once more, looking at the bed. The site of my humiliation. I knew what I had to do. I opened my purse and pulled out my wallet. Seven hundred fifty euro. A fraction of his value, an insulting amount. And yet: all I had to my name. I walked back to the bed and left it there, right in the middle, in the divot my shoulders had created, still warm. He would never be able to say he did me a favor. This was a transaction. Services paid, services rendered. Quality product, timely delivery. Five stars. Choking back sobs, I left the palazzo, leaving the door unlocked behind me.”
Sewanee stared at the tablet in front of her, the absence of more text, of more story. The white space. She was still reverberating, still coming back into herself. She was so overtaken by where she’d gone, she needed time to come back to where she was. It wasn’t like sex, but it wasn’t unlike it, either.
Nick huffed a laugh. “He’s such a dick. Oh, sorry, cut it, Cosmo.”
“Si, we cut.” She heard the sound of Cosmo slapping the table. “Belissima. This last thing, you make me cry. We continue, yes?”
“No, the next episode is the last episode so we’re gonna do it tomorrow.”
“But how do I sleep, eh?”
Nick chuckled and took off his headphones. “If we hooked Cosmo, we can hook anybody. I’m so glad you suggested this. How grand was that, eh?”
Sewanee had no desire to burst Nick’s bubble, so she replied, in an exaggerated leprechaun voice, “Grand it twas!”