Previously: Max-a-something Treve-whatever has a flat overlooking the Thames (yay!) and inherited responsibility (boo!).
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Marines: It appears we will be switching perspectives to some extent as we are now following Alessia. Max’s chapter was told in the first person past, but Alessia’s is third person present? Cool choice, I hate it.
Sweeney: There are just so many ways for things to be terrible! Incredible!
Mari: Truly, this choice is beyond me. It serves to make Alessia’s portions feel really detached and foreign to the story. Imagine if James did that purposefully, because she foreign, get it?
Alessia is cold and making her way to Max’s apartment to clean, letting us know that this is only her second time being there without Krystyna, the daily Max mentioned a couple of times in the last chapter. Alessia is getting used to noisy, crowded London, though she does take some time to complain about a nameless woman who was talking too loudly on the phone. Ugh, women, am I right?
Rebecca: And she complains about these people not socializing or speaking to each other. You live in a city. You really want every person to say hi and ask how you’re day is going? Would get old in 6 seconds.
Sweeney: Also getting strong ~*she’s an old soul*~ vibes from this, which is basically Not Like Other Girls: The Remix.
Mari: That no one asked for.
To pass the time, Alessia daydreams of home, her mother, and the piano. It’s been a while since she’s played and it seems like she might have synesthesia, because she briefly describes seeing the music. She’s super excited to play the piano in Max’s apartment, even though, in the second most stunning twist of events, Alessia doesn’t visit Max’s apartment daily, but on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Like. Wow, way to mislead us with your definition.
Alessia is surprised to get to Max’s flat and find that the alarm is off. She’s worried Max is there, but she listens hard, and decides he’s definitely not home, phew.
“Mirë.
No. “Good.” English. Think in English.”
Google Translate says she’s thinking Albanian.
Rebecca: She decides no one is home by listening for a few seconds while standing by the door. Ummm. Does she expect everyone hanging out at home to be banging pots and pans around and yodeling?
Mari: This would be a more enjoyable book if they were.
As it is, Alessia is super sure no one could possibly be home. She’s never met Max, but she assumes he’s got a good job because his flat is huge and how else could he afford it? Maybe he’s rich, she considers, but he’s a complete slob. I don’t understand why she thinks those two things are mutually exclusive.
She’s been here 3 times and each time, the flat is so messy, it takes hours of tidying up. She comes every other day. I feel like you’d have to be making a concerted effort to be a sloppy jackass to make that kind of daily mess. WTF is he doing in there?
Sweeney: The idea of a home occupied by (1) person needing hours of tidying every other day is a detail that’s gonna sit in my brain and annoy me for the rest of time. I am now in my apartment 100% of the time and am a pretty messy person and yet I still feel as though I’d really have to dedicate myself to the task of making that much mess.
Mari: Even now! When home is work and home is home and home is outside and home is inside, that kind of mess would be effort.
“The gray day is seeping through the skylight at the end of the hall, so Alessia flicks the switch and the crystal chandelier above her bursts into life, illuminating the hallway.”
“Bursts into life,” like why do you have to be so violent about a description for… turning on a light.
Alessia changes into old sneakers, a house coat and a puts her hair in a blue scarf– all things passed down to her by Krystyna. She grabs her cleaning supplies and heads to the bedroom first.
“He’s here.
The man!
Fast asleep facedown and sprawled naked across the large bed. She stands, shocked and fascinated at once, her feet rooted to the wood floor as she stares. He’s stretched across the length of the bed, tangled in his duvet but naked… very naked.”
This is no “naked except for his jeans,” oh no. He is very naked.
Rebecca: THE MAN! I’m dying.
Mari: Alessia checks him (R: THE MAN!) out some more, his tousled hair, his tan, the tattoo on his bicep and his “pale, taut backside.” She exclaims “naked! god!” in Albanian, and then Max stirs from sleep. Their eyes meet, and she’s worried he’ll be mad, but he just turns around and goes back to sleep. Alessia rushes out and back to the living room, where apparently Max has a bunch of discarded clothes. I think he just throws clothes he hasn’t even worn out there. He just makes it rain clothes for fun.
She wonders how he can be there and still in bed, at this hour. “Surely he’s late for work.” Alright, calm down there Alessia. I’m sure you can imagine a couple of reasons why he might still be sleeping. (S: Listen fuck this man, but also! Fuck a judgey bitch looking down on sleeping in! That’s one of the most essential perks of being a rich person! I’d quit my job and get so much sleep!!) Mostly, she’s pissed because she wanted to play the piano. And mostly she’s focusing on that because she doesn’t want to think about the first naked man she’s ever seen. (R: So she’s never been on the internet.) (M: You know, rarely. I read ahead.) She can hear the shower running, and contemplates making a run for it, but figures she doesn’t want to get fired.
Instead, she runs back into his room to collect the clothes he made rain in there, and goes back to the laundry room, trying to convince herself she’s just in shock about seeing him naked. She mentions his “backside” so stay tuned about whether this is the new “down there,” and we have to also add this to the drinking game.
Rebecca: I’m already drunk, Mari. Don’t do this to me.
Mari: I’m just throwing some possibilities out there.
Alessia’s memories of Max’s green eyes morph into memories of someone with blue, angry eyes. Someone from home. She pushes those memories away and reminds herself that she fled. She’s in London, now, safe.
Rebecca: Boy howdy can’t wait to see how her traumatic backstory comes out in this novel. I’m sure it’ll be handled with respect, and Backside Beauty will be really cool and understanding.
Sweeney: Extremely sexy to think about serious trauma!
Mari: We get way more detail about her doing the laundry than I’d like. Ma’am, I don’t even like doing my own laundry. I think the main point is that she finds a condom in his pocket, get it, because he has a lot of sex. (S: The text actually has her think “how can one man use so many?” just to be sure we understand that he has so! much! sex! but also honestly what does she even know if she’s a virgin who can’t drive?) As she’s thinking about how all her other clients are women, Max shouts “bye Krystyna!” and leaves. She wonders at him not knowing that she’s taken Krystyna’s spot.
Max has left money for her, so she figures this means he won’t be back. We get even more details about his messy room and closet, and then she goes out to look at the Thames. (R: *Drinks*) She’s sad about how gray and unlike home it all is, but she tells herself to forget about home. She keeps cleaning some more, it’s very thrilling, and I think the point this time is for her to note that he always has a ton of used condoms in his wastebasket. Because he has a lot of sex, see? She cleans the rest of the house except… the one room… she isn’t allowed to enter….
Sweeney: We are simply not that fortunate, Rebecca.
Mari: Another page of chores and finally she is done and rushes over to the piano. There is half-finished composition there, which Alessia sees in sad grays and pale blues. She figures he’s a composer since he’s got a bunch of music things. Then she catches feelings about how long it’s been since she played and how sad she is to be away from home. She plays an E-minor chord and sees it in the green of “the Mister’s” eyes. Not exactly surprising that she’s going the call him The Mister, but I still flinched when I saw there, in black and white. (R: Cue the dry-heaving.)
We cut away from Alessia playing to join Max at one of the Trevelyan homes– the one where he grew up and where Kit was living after their father died. It’s Max’s now, to do with as he pleases. He wonders what he’ll do and remembers how Caroline is out there somewhere being pissed at him.
Max wonders if he should use his key to the house, but decides it feels like an intrusion. He knocks instead and the family butler, Blake, answers. Blake calls him Lord Trevethick, and Max grumbles over that, still not used to his new title. Max goes upstairs and describes the room and the furniture and then the view to… THE MOTHER LOVING THAMES. THIS ONE HAS A VIEW OF THE THAMES, TOO.
Rebecca: I’m gonna black the fuck out reading this book. It’s okay, it might make the process of reading every single step everyone takes more bearable.
Mari: I mean, yes, because if you are blacked out, you won’t be reading anymore. Confirmed improvement.
Caroline is in this room, and she’s been crying. She yells at Max and calls him a wanker and wonders where tf he’s been. He says he’s been busy. “You? Busy? Maxim, you wouldn’t know busy if you tripped and stuck your dick in it.” God damn, Caroline.
Max laughs and it breaks the tension. He says again that he had a lot to take in. Caroline asks if he was alone and he thinks back to Heather and some girl named Dawn we didn’t meet. He struggles remembering the names because, James hasn’t mentioned it yet, but he has a lot of sex. (R: Wait, WHAT? He does?!) Caroline figured as much and calls him a whore, saying he left her alone to have dinner with “Daddy and the Stepsow” (band name??) (wait, casual misogyny?) and she was lonely last night.
Caroline asks if Max saw the lawyers, and by his reaction, deduces that she’s been left with nothing. Max promises to figure out something. She says that she loved Kit, and Max assures her that they both did, but makes sure to let us know with his thoughts that Caroline also loved Kit’s wealth and title. I mean, whatever Max, those are lovable things. (S: I would love those things! So that I could, among other things, sleep in! Fuck both of these people for judging my dreams!) Caroline asks if Max is going to evict her, but he assures her not. She’s his brother’s widow and best friend. She asks if that’s all she is, and Max gives her a pity kiss on the forehead.
Blake comes in with coffee, and Max gets all tense. I think because you aren’t supposed to have emotions in front of the help? I don’t know, I’m not rich and also I have emotions everywhere. While Caroline pours the coffee, Max looks down at her handkerchief, which he is still holding, and remembers a fragment of a dream he had this morning.
“A young woman, an angel? Possibly the Virgin Mary or a nun in blue standing in my bedroom doorway watching over me as I slept.”
He thought… he thought she was THE VIRGIN MARY.
Rebecca: HAHAHAHAAH WHAT?? EXCUSE ME? Not enough wine in the fucking world for this shit rn.
Mari: Caroline asks Max what’s up, and he says nothing because he can’t exactly go “very confusing religious imagery in my dreams” or whatever. And then Caroline just drops the bombshell that she might be pregnant. “Kit. Not you,” she clarifies. “You’re too bloody careful.” Uh, is that… a bad thing? She said it like it’s a bad thing. “Damn you Maxisomething, with your PROTECTION and SAFE SEX and NOT UNWITTINGLY BRINGING CHILDREN INTO THE WORLD. Damn you.”
This of course means that Kit had an heir when he died. Max says they’ll figure it out. He feels relieved that all this responsibility (ew) will go to Kit’s kid, but then is bummed out about losing the title. Uh huh, see, I told you wealth and titles were lovable. I told you.
Next time on The Mister: Spoiler alert, Max has a lot of sex in Chapter 03.
I'm a 30-something south Floridan who loves the beach but cannot swim. Such is my life, full of small contradictions and little trivialities. My main life goals are never to take life too seriously, but to do everything I attempt seriously well. After that, my life goals devolve into things like not wearing pants and eating all of the Zebra Cakes in the world. THE WORLD.
Nicole is the co-captain of Snark Squad and these days she spends most of her time editing podcasts. She spends too much time on Twitter and very occasionally vlogs and blogs. In her day job she's a producer, editor, director, and sometimes host of educational YouTube channels. She loves travel, maps, panda gifs, and semicolons. Writing biographies stresses her out; she crowd sourced this one years ago and has been using a version of it ever since. She would like to thank Twitter for their help.
