I'm Not in Love

CHAPTER10

Remi

She calls religiously on the fifteenth of every month at nine in the morning. I sit stiffly on the wingback chair by the window and wait for the October 15th call. As usual, Grandmother is like clockwork.

“Good morning, young Julian.”

“Hello, Grandmother,” I reply. “How are you and Grandfather?”

“We are well, thank you. Of course, we are looking forward to the day our capable grandson steps in to relieve us of the heavy burden of the hotel business.”

I let her hear me chuckle. “You’ll never step back from the business—all three of us know this.”

“True,” she admits, a smile in her voice. “We are, however, looking forward to sharing the burden when you join the management team.”

Sharing the burden with me, despite my well-articulated dread of it. “Yes, of course.”

“How are your law school applications progressing, dear?” I’d predicted this would be the first topic on the table for discussion. I’m less than thrilled to be proved right.

“They are… progressing.”

“Early applicants have an advantage,” she reminds me.

“So you say.”

“And dragging your feet will not make the obligation vanish.”

“I’m aware.” I clear my throat before adding, “I’ll submit them before the deadlines.”

“Not that I anticipate rejection, but we agreed that you would submit to six schools, correct?” Again, her remark is as predictable as leaves turning crisp and brown before falling from trees in autumn.

“I’m hoping to attend law school in Garner City, Grandmother. It’s home to me.”

“Yes, that cold and barren loft.” She has never recognized the rustic appeal of an antique industrial space. “I suppose you will apply to the law schools at Regent and Mountain Valley Universities.”

“That’s right.”

“There are more prestigious law schools in other cities.” She makes no effort to hide her disdain. Grandmother’s preference would be for me to attend an Ivy League.

“My home is here.” Tristan is here.

“Fair enough.” It’s now time for a new topic. This one, she detests. “And is your precious art entertaining you as well as you’d hoped?” I can visualize her grimace as she speaks the word for the passion that has distracted me from both personal pain and blind obedience since I discovered art museums in high school.

“Senior year at LaCasse College is intense.”

“Intense…” she echoes, the sarcasm thick. Next on the agenda, Grandmother will issue a threat. “Upon graduation, young Julian, Grandfather and I expect you to begin summer work at Remington Plaza Corporate Headquarters. You will work with us until law school starts in the fall. It would kill your grandfather if you were to renege on your obligation.”

“I know what you expect.”

“Excellent.”

This conversation has nearly run its course. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving, son?”

I am not your son.“At this point, they’re undecided.”

“Your grandfather misses you greatly.”

To some extent, I also miss him. He possesses a far milder soul than his conniving wife. Nonetheless, he has never possessed the grit to stand in my corner. “I’ll be certain to visit him over Thanksgiving weekend.”

“I hope so. He also misses his son, and you are the very image of Julian II.”

“Mmmhmm.” I’m in no mood to discuss similarities and differences between my father and me. We’ve done this many times before, and I always come up lacking.

“Well, then, I suppose I should allow you to return to your extremely rigorous study of art.” Once again, she makes little effort to hold back her scorn.

“And you to your burdensome hotel business.” I return the favor.

“It is our business, my dear.” She sniffs. “It was pleasant to hear your voice, young Julian.”

“And yours.” A lie neither of us will acknowledge. “Give my regards to Grandfather.”

“Of course. Goodbye.”

A call from Grandmother always reminds me of who I am, where I come from, and where I’m going. Instead of heading to life drawing class where I’ll be forced to engage with Professor Santini—who planned to get Tristan drunk and take advantage of him—I climb back into bed.

Lying here, sleepless and agitated, my mind fills with unanswerable questions.

Three years in law school—will I survive it?

How will I endure my future as a hotel executive?

There’s another question of a more personal nature that plagues me.

Why am I investing so much time and energy in my relationship with Tristan?

In my experience, human relationships have been nothing but sources of impossible pain. I need to stop pursuing Tristan before he agrees to my advances.

I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to walk away if I get in much deeper.

* * *