The Diplomat's Tutor

Chapter 3: One For The Road

Malia drove in a giddy daze home to her and J.C.'s apartment to change out of her graduation gown and head over to her folk's place for the celebration barbecue.

On her way, visions of Aeonia's black sand beaches and crystal blue waters raced through her head. Mount Aeon emerged in the distance, its peak breaking through misty white clouds. In the harbor on the docks, rows of beautiful Aeonians, every skin tone but all sunned with golden hues, stood welcoming her, singing their island songs. They wore creative hairdos and stylish multi-colored silks which fluttered in the wind.

A man she couldn't see, whose powerful presence she felt, stood behind her in the boat. His hand rested on her lower back, supporting her as she glided through an ancient brick canal lined with algae toward the city gate. The gate opened, revealing—

BEEP!

A car horn shook Malia out of her daydream, and she swerved the steering wheel of her car as a white Beamer zipped around her. The jerk in the Beamer flipped her off and screamed an obscenity about driving too slow, then sped off down the road. Malia took a deep breath.

The encounter brought her back to reality. She had a life here. She had J.C. She couldn't just throw it all away for some ridiculous fantasy. And yet, it wasn't a fantasy. It was real, and she knew she should jump at the opportunity, but something was holding her back, as if indulging it and admitting it was real would only bring her disappointment.

Why did she feel this fear? As she pulled into the parking space of her apartment complex, the source of her hesitancy took solid form. She trudged up the stairs, hearing the hollow clank of every footfall like dark wedding bells. She opened the door and found J.C. sitting at the kitchen table in front of his computer, clicking away at the keys.

“Hey, babe," he said absently between clicks, not looking up. Only the sunlight, muted through the shuttered blinds, and the white glow of his computer lit the otherwise dark room. She stood behind him, watching the stream of black print flow onto the white screen.

“Where were you today?" Malia asked. “You missed my graduation."

“Yeah. Busy busy. I have to submit this document early Monday morning," he said. The stream of typing stopped a moment and then resumed, slower. “I'm making bank, though. The firm doubles my hourly if I go over sixty hours on the week, and that's what it's all about, right?"

Malia slipped out of her graduation gown and thought how ironic it was that she was standing naked behind him, and he didn't even notice. She went into the bedroom and got dressed for the barbecue. She returned to the kitchen to ask him a question but stalled, thinking she already knew the answer. She asked it anyway.

“Are you coming to the barbecue?"

“Wish I could. But I've got hours to go here," he said.

“You couldn't have put these hours in last night when you went out for beers with the guys?"

He stopped at turned to look at her. “That wasn't just beers with the guys. That was networking. Big difference."

“It didn't smell too different," she said almost under her breath as she opened the fridge for the cold-brew coffee.

He sighed, rose, walked over, and wrapped himself around her from behind.

“It was different, Malia. All this work I'm doing, it's for you. To take you out, treat you right, set up our future. I might ask you to marry me."

He rubbed his nose onto her cheek and started kissing her neck. She enjoyed it despite herself as she stared at the fruit tray in the refrigerator, the cold air fighting against the warmth of J.C.'s body. Cold comfort, she thought.

“J.C., there's something I need to tell you."

“Okay," he said, working himself up now, touching her belly, hardening against the small of her back, pressing.

“I got a job offer."

“Good," he said with his voice muffled against her neck, licking, sucking. “That's okay, for now."

She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her and pressed her butt into his grinding pelvis.

“No, listen to me," she said louder and with more bite than intended.

He groaned and paused but didn't let her go.

“It's on Aeonia," she said.

“What is?"

“The job."

A pregnant silence. He turned Malia around and stared down with authority. “For how long?"

“I don't know. I think it's short-term."

He laughed. “You can't go to Aeonia. You live here, with me."

“It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, J.C. Maybe the start of my career. I'll find out how long it is, and if I go, we'd be long-distance. We'd make it work until—"

“No. You don't need a career." He withdrew from her and started pacing around the room. “Why do you think I'm working sixty-plus hours a week? I'm going to make partner, and then I'll be killing it. We'll get married, and you won't have to do anything, Malia. So what you're saying makes no sense."

“My life ambition is not to be your housewife, J.C. I have dreams, too—"

“I don't care! It's what I want. What I need from you, and I want you at home with our kids."

She laughed bitingly, almost madly at his absurdity. “We don't even have any kids."

“But we will—

“And the timing of that is your choice alone? We're not even engaged. I'm twenty-four. I'm not ready for that," Malia said.

“Great. This is just great." He approached her again and gripped her by the shoulders. “You're not taking that job, Malia. You are not leaving for a faraway country. If you do, we're done. I won't wait for you. It's foolish. Any girl would kill to be with me. Models."

She scoffed and started to reply, but he knocked her chin up, closing her mouth, and continued. “You finished college. That's great. I commend you. But that's over with. Now your job is to support me."

She shook her head, “You know what? When I first came in, I had just wanted to talk to you about it. I hadn't even decided anything."

“Okay, good! Then—

“But," she said, putting her fingers on his mouth, shutting him up now, "Whatever I decide, I know one thing. You will not be part of that decision."

“What does that mean?" he said.

“It means we're through, J.C."

He shrugged as if it meant nothing. “Fine. I'll get a new you in a week."

“My condolences to her," Malia said. But not wanting to end it ugly, she gave him a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. “I'll move my things out in the morning. Goodbye."

He hugged her back. He tightened his grip, his arms wrapping around her. She allowed him to have this one last feel of her body, something to remember her by, and she would have one last warm memory of him—not his misogynistic rant.

She felt an erection form. “How about one last f*ck for the road?" he whispered in her ear.

She slapped him across the face and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door in her wake.