Lethe meets Veronica before class

Once a week, in the evenings, Lethe saw a friend at the Institute. Her name was Veronica and they’d met during the first week of the foreign exchange program when their college sponsored a ten-day excursion through the Pyrenees Mountains. The idea of the trip was to do a little sight-seeing before the students came to Madrid. A group of over fifty students stayed in small hotels and inns along the way. They visited picturesque villages and hiked through green mountains. They relaxed on beaches and saw old churches.

Veronica was a short brunette with a puckered mouth.  Lethe had slept with her in that first week of the study abroad program.  He captured her with his silliness and outgoing personality and she seemed to grow attached to him in a short amount of time.  She had a cutesy aspect about her and he teased her a lot in a playful and exuberant manner.  But something about Lethe didn’t sit well with Veronica.  She sometimes acted stern and stoic towards him.

At the old rural Inn, in the village of St. Jean Pied de Port, their playfulness resulted in her coming up to his room one night and them having sex.  Lethe buttered her up and their kisses had a fierce, wild intensity which made everything seem worth it.  The room was small and had a low ceiling; the wooden floor had a hump.  This quaint setting stoked their animal affection and the young, exuberant Lethe caressed Veronica’s pot-belly with the charm of a great lover. While the other students were downstairs, drinking from a punch bowl filled with sangria, Lethe and Veronica were having their little fun.  Nobody knew and that’s what made it so exciting.

Veronica understood implicitly that Lethe didn’t really want anything more than this.  He was practically manic when they were together and seemed to only enjoy a good rush.  He played his part in a very juvenile way, and with a sort of cockiness too; in retrospect, she regretted falling for him at the Inn.

After not having spoken to each other for two weeks, they met again at the International Institute.  The basement level had a cafe where students went to buy pastries, drink coffee, and hang out.  Students sat in chairs around a table and talked about the weekend.  Lethe never talked to anyone, however, not since his episodes in the classroom.  Down in the cafe, he found a place in the semi-darkness where he waited for the five minutes before class started.

When Veronica saw Lethe in the cafe, she recognized instantly that he’d lost his mania, his exuberant self.  Now he almost appeared catatonic and forlorn, staring at the stone walls and nibbling absentmindedly on a chocolate bar.  She walked over to him, against her best judgment, and sat down.

Before they said anything, she smirked.  She was the type of woman who takes pleasure in watching ex-lovers suffer.  She wanted him to feel the pain that she had gone through in dealing with him.  But his pain seemed to come from somewhere else, having nothing to do with her.

“What are you smiling at?”  Lethe asked.

“You.  You’re pouting and I think it’s funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny and anyways you pout all the time.  You pucker your mouth.”

“Hey, that’s not nice.”

She was wearing a blue, second-hand sweater.  Lethe noticed this because she wore it all the time.

“I don’t have the energy to be nice.  This place is making me go insane.  I tried to kill myself last night.”

“You what?”

“Let’s not talk about it.  Tell me about your wonderful life here in Madrid.”

“Actually things have gotten much better since we stopped hanging out . . .”

“Oh yeah, that’s great.”

“It is great because now I don’t have to deal with your bullshit.”  She said this in a teasing manner.

“Listen I’m sorry if I ignored you after we slept together but I really hit a wall.  You don’t understand I’m frustrated here.  I hate this institute, or institution, whatever they call it.”

Lethe hung his head over the coffee table, and threw away his chocolate bar, half-eaten.

“The International Institute–”

“Yes, I hate it.”

“All these kids, these Americans.  Where do they come from?  This is supposed to be a ’study abroad’ not a ’study-at-home’.”

“What do you want to do Lethe?  Run the streets with the Spaniards?”

“Yes, actually that sounds like a good idea.  I’d learn more from them.  Americans suck.  I’m so self-conscious here.  And I can’t stand my roommate.  I’m pretty sure he’s gay.”

“Okay, that’s enough Lethe.  I’ve got to go to class and so do you.  Do you want to see me again?”

“Maybe.”