Page 10 of Julian's Curse

“I guess you were right that Andrea wasn’t his happy ending in the end.” I couldn’t help but get a guilty satisfaction out of it, because I still cared if James ended up with someone who wasn’t such a bad influence.

“It’s obvious that he’s talking about you,” she seemed to be on the same page with me that the romance James described ashis main inspiration was our college relationship. She had been my roommate for most of the time, witnessing each unfortunate milestone of our eventual downfall. After all my doubts, James managed to earn my trust, only to shatter me in the end in ways that first love never should.

“You have to share with this Julian, Lucie, before the media finds out who the mystery girl is first.” She warned, her voice softening nevertheless.

“You want me to tell him that my ex is now a piano rockstar—if that’s even the right term—and that he claims I’m his inspiration? I don’t think it will go well, Val, please don’t make me.” I furrowed my eyebrows. Julian wouldn’t like this one bit, and I could already picture how he’d react.

“When was the last time you spoke with James anyway?” Val pondered.

I looked back and it was still the day that we’d reunited with Julian. “5thDecember last year,” I knew the date exactly because it matched the date of a psychic prediction. The one that we’d get back together with Julian. Just thinking of him made me feel better. We’d weather this storm too, I just didn’t want to add this to his plate right before his grand opening in Dubai.

“Lu, you have a great memory.”

“Same day as the rest of my life started,” I hoped she’d know I was referring to the day that I’d officially become Julian’s girlfriend again. Either she understood, or she didn’t question why I remembered the exact date.

“What about talking this out with Oliver? Maybe he can do some damage control?”

It wasn’t a terrible suggestion, but I still cringed at the idea of having to explain everything to Julian’s security guard, who seemed far too serious to be dealing with an untethered love interest from my past. But it was his job to attend to Julian’s best interests and even play the role of PR at times. And I was surehe had people on his team who could figure out a way to silence James.

“Another option is to talk it out with James. I’m sure if you tell him how you feel, he’ll back off, Lucie,” Val suggested. “James wasn’t heartless, and it seems like he’s trying to make up for what he did to you.”

It surprised me that she gave him some credit, but it was also a fair assessment of his character.

“Yeah, it’s come to that,” I concluded. “I’ll call today, assuming I can still get through on his old phone number.” I sighed. “He seems to have quite a following.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

“Most definitely...” My voice cracked. The thought of discussing an old love that had turned toxic made my stomach burn. By the end of it all, James had not only spiraled into addiction but had crossed a few unforgivable lines with me—lines I’d rather not remember. I couldn’t help but sulk at the bitter irony of it all.

I heard a thud as seemingly, Val was moving boxes. “Babe, sorry, I got to run, I am about to meet with the leasing company for our second shop,” she excused herself.

“Good luck, I can’t wait to visit it!” I cheered her on. Lately, a lot of my new wardrobe had come from Val’s designs—I wanted to support her, and thankfully, I now had the funds to do it.

“Speak soon, love!” she ended the call. “And keep me posted.”

“Yeah,” my mood deflated like a punctured balloon, the thought of reaching out to an ex twisting my gut. Exes, they had a way of slipping back into your life—bringing with them a flood of old wounds, old dreams, forgotten pieces of you that never quite healed.

The only reason I felt I could bring myself to do it was because this wasn’t about me—it was for Julian.

It was Christmas time in Seattle, and I’d decided to stay on campus for the holidays. The snow became so heavy that people could hardly walk on the street, but I still made my way to the corner of 8thand Lemon Avenue where you lived. You’d gone home for the holidays to the East Coast, where your big family, including your six sisters gathered for festivities.

At first, there was nothing unusual about the green house I’d come to visit to feed the few fish in your apartment. But for me, the place had become a graveyard to mourn our relationship. Memories of us hit me all once, and I was certain that what drew me to come here was to relive the option to be with you. Aside from just feeding the fish that you cared only enough about to keep them alive.

Freshman year was not my best year. I’d spent much of it on the toilet, facing my eating disorder, and abusing laxativesbecause they made me feel skinnier. I knew right from wrong, and how the abuse affected my body, but I didn’t value my life enough to do something about it. In some ways, the cramping that I felt as a result of using them, was better than having to face the uncomfortable fullness of my emotions.

On the outside, I looked strong and intact. Every morning, I went for my routine run, then did my fitness exercises, which shaped my body into perfection and drew the ogling looks of boys in college. And even though I didn’t date any of them, their attention filled me with a feeling of relevancy. I put on my heavy make-up to hide any imperfections, my green eyes lined with dark mascara being the most prominent feature on my face, then headed to work at the school dining hall, serving food to other classmates, then cleaning up when everyone left. But I didn’t feel less than them. I liked my Cinderella-like job, it reminded me that I could indeed get through the life lesson that my father was trying to put me through.

I approached the door of your apartment building and opened it with the keys you left with me. As I walked in, a familiar smell hit me. The corridor had a distinct air quality, and it wasn’t like anything else I’d ever smelled. Maybe it was the combination of sullen carpeting and the mix of people who walked through with their pets. But it wasn’t an off-putting smell at all, just different. After years of studying French literature, I finally understood Proust’s passage about the madeleine. How a simple taste or smell could transport you—flooding you with memories you hadn’t thought of in years. It wasn’t the scent itself that did it, but the feeling it evoked. It pulled me back, made me realize just how much of you was in this place.

I got into your apartment as soon as possible because even in my coat I was freezing in this extreme weather. I quickly located the fish tank and tipped a portion of the feeding mix into the aquarium.

The few betta fish gathered on top of the water, their vibrant colors shimmering under the soft light. One fish, with a striking royal blue hue, seemed especially curious, swimming closer as if it appreciated my presence greatly. I leaned in, mesmerized by the delicate movements of its fins.

I looked around, wondering if maybe I could borrow an item of clothing as I’d underestimated the cold. Soon enough, I spotted a pink-purple-striped scarf on the ground. You’d wear something like this because you were so flashy, but even for your taste, this scarf was perhaps too girly. Without giving it further thought, I decided to wrap it around my neck to save myself from getting sick by coming here. I left the lights on for the fish, then couldn’t stand another minute in your apartment where we’d almost made love listening to theLast Broadcastby Doves. Plagued by flashbacks, I needed to get out as soon as possible out of this graveyard ofwhat could have been.

Next, I sat on the steps outside, because I wanted to relive the moment that I’d always regret. It was all still so vivid in my memory. The pavement was hot from the summer heat. In the night, you still chose to wear your leather jacket and aviator glasses, maybe because recently, we’d almost watchedTop Gun, except I was too timid to show up to join you for a movie night. I liked to spend my evenings alone, in self-loathing.

“Lucie, will you date me?” You asked, your voice steady but laced with a hint of vulnerability.

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