by Harper Bliss
I chuckle. “I’ll buy you some new ones today.”
“Maybe not too high-quality ones.”
“Good morning.” Caitlin’s voice startles me. I was so wrapped up in looking into Camille’s eyes I didn’t even see Caitlin come in. “You must be Camille.” Caitlin grins at Camille. “Caitlin James. Pleasure to meet you.”
Emotions war inside of me. On the one hand, I think Camille and I should get out of here as quickly as possible, before Sheryl and Kristin come down, followed by Amber and Martha hopping in for some tea. On the other hand, I want to say to Caitlin: “You see. I can do this.” Although it would just make her feel smug. Or perhaps just happy for me. Caitlin’s return to Australia coincided with my break-up from Rebecca, which has been a great help to me. Because of her, I had an outside perspective on all the matters that drove Rebecca and me apart. And she introduced me to a bunch of people who don’t remind me of the life I used to have. People who don’t have to walk on egg shells around me and worry about a slip of the tongue, accidentally mentioning they spent time with Rebecca and Julie.
“I’m surprised you know my name.” Camille says it with a smile in her voice.
“Let’s just say I was there when you texted Zoya and I was the one to push her in the right direction.” Caitlin winks at me. “Call me later,” she says.
“You do know a lot of the customers here.” Camille sits there grinning. “Seems to me your problem is not being recognized by strangers at all. It’s being left alone by your friends while you’re having breakfast with last night’s conquest.”
“Oh, no. You were absolutely not a conquest to me.”
That smile again. “Seems like the French have a decidedly different sense of humor than the Australians.”
“Touché.” I drink my coffee while I consider my next words carefully. “Do we, er need to talk about what this is?”
Her face darkens. “It can only be one thing. I think we should at least be clear about that.”
“I know.”
“But let’s enjoy the weekend. I’d much rather spend my last one in this gorgeous country with an equally gorgeous woman by my side.”
“You got it.” I send her a smile, even though, on the inside, it feels a little bitter sweet. “Let’s get out of here, though. I don’t want any more interruptions.”
“Deal.” Camille makes quick work of her coffee and croissant, and so do I.
Chapter Seven
“Benoit is nineteen and Florence is twenty-five,” Camille says. I’ve taken her to a quiet beach tourists haven’t annexed yet, especially this time of year. We’re strolling along the shoreline and, apart from the plans we’ve made to go back to my place later, I don’t want this walk to end. I want to listen to Camille’s voice for days on end. I want this weekend to be everlasting. Argh. I need to remind myself this is just a prolonged one-night stand.
“Ben’s in his first year of university in Marseille, so I don’t see him that often. It was a big change when he left home. Definitely some of that—what do you call it?—empty nest thing going on. Luckily Flo lives in Paris so I get to see her a lot. And soon I will become a free babysitter to my granddaughter.” Her voice softens.
“Twenty-five seems so young to become a mother these days,” I say.
“Believe me, I told her the exact same thing. For some reason, it’s her dream to have a big family. It can’t possibly have been the harmonious family life Jean-Claude and I gave her. But it’s what she wants. These days, kids want it all. Even though she’s hardly a child anymore. A career. A thriving marriage. A bunch of children. Frankly, I don’t see how all of that is possible at the same time. But she believes in it with such vigor. She takes after her father in that respect. He has always gone after what he wants with a conviction I often thought admirable. These days I tend to wonder at what cost.” She takes my hand in hers and an arrow of heat shudders through me. “I started planning this trip as soon as I found out Flo was pregnant. It was now or never. I can’t imagine traveling this far and for this long once that girl is born. At least not for a while, anyway. The timing was exactly right: Ben at university, me home alone, Flo and Mathieu expecting. And here I am.”
“At the very end of your journey.” I hold onto her hand a little tighter.
“But what an ending it is.” She squeezes back with strong fingers. “Have you ever wanted children?” she asks.
I take a moment to think about this. It’s been so long since I had a conversation about having children. “Before I was with Rebecca, I was alone for a few years. I thought about it a couple of times then. Most of my lesbian friends who had children had them from a previous heterosexual relationship. I know things have changed a lot in the past decade and a half, but back when I was questioning whether I wanted kids or not, times were different. I’m not saying it’s easy now. And far from cheap either. But back in the day—when it was my time, so to speak—it seemed too much of an impossibility. And I guess my maternal instincts never developed that much. I never had that ache I’ve heard some women talk about. Like their life could not possibly be complete if they didn’t have a child. I think I’m just part of the strain of genes who don’t feel their life is a failure because they haven’t procreated. And who knows, if my circumstances had been different, or if Rebecca had really wanted children, but it wasn’t the case, so…”
“I was a year younger than Flo is now when I had her, so suffice it to say I never gave it much thought. It was just how things were. I’m racking my brain trying to think of someone I know from my generation who didn’t have children.”
“It just goes to show the implicit demands society makes of us. Most people never question the status quo.”
“They just breed.” Camille bumps her arm into mine.
She’s so easy to talk to. Not just flirt with, but have an actual conversation with. It gives me an idea.
“This is completely off topic…”
“That’s fine.” She stops and pulls me toward her. “I love a good meandering conversation. That’s how you find out the most.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” This is just a hunch, a fleeting thought I probably shouldn’t have paid attention to. “You know what I do for a living.”
“Yes. Which reminds me. Is there a way I can download all of your shows and put them on my laptop so I can watch them on the plane?”
My lips break into a spontaneous smile again. “My show isn’t really about me. My role is to fade into the background and let others shine.”
“For the life of me, I can’t imagine you fading into any background.”
“You’re such a flatterer.” I throw my arms around her neck. The day is chilly and I’m glad to feel Camille’s body near.
“What did you want to ask me?” She nuzzles my neck with her nose.
“I’d like to interview you as I do with the guests on my show. And record it.” I intensify the clasp of my arms around her neck. “I don’t think I can just let you go without a lasting memory. I mean, I probably could, but I don’t want to. Why should I?”
“Didn’t you say you and your team research guests for a long time before you interview them?” Camille asks.
“This would be a different kind of interview. More exploratory than usual.”
“I’ve seen a few clips. The one in which you interview Ruby Rose is very popular on YouTube apparently. Must have been because of the sexual tension.”
I shake my head. “People will always see what they want to see.”
“Just so you know, if we do this, the sexual tension will be palpable on the screen…” She bites my earlobe. “So I have a counter offer.”
“I’m all ears,” I whisper, which causes her to sink her teeth into my earlobe again.
“You can interview me all you want if, afterward, I can make a video of my own.”
“What kind of video did you have in mind?” If I’m catching her drift, the thought is at the same time exhilarating a
nd terrifying.
“You and me in the bedroom.” Her lips are on my neck, touching.
“A sex tape?” I blurt out.
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
I chuckle. “I’m not so sure of that. I’m not sure it’s wise.”
“I never said it would be wise.” She pushes herself away from me and stares at me. “It would be irresponsible and foolish, but oh so hot. And a lasting memory we can use over and over again.”
“When you put it like that…” I pull her close again. She could convince me of everything in a heartbeat, but I can’t help but be cautious. “Still, the possible negative consequences need thinking about.”
“The only way there could ever possibly be negative consequences is if the video got leaked.”
“Indeed. I mean, you’re about to become a grandmother. Think about it.”
“So, it comes down to a matter of trust,” Camille says.
“Hm.” I look away from her for an instant. “As you might have guessed, I have some trust issues.”
“Hey.” She takes a step so she can stand in front of me again. “You’re not alone with those.” A pause. “Maybe it can be a good exercise. For the both of us.”
“But I barely—”
Camille brings a finger to my lips—she really does like to touch them—and says, “I know what you’re going to say. You barely know me.” She removes her finger and cups her hand around my jaw. “Sometimes it takes a stranger to restore our confidence and trust in humanity.”
“That’s all well and good, but it still doesn’t mean we should make a sex tape.”
Camille’s face is so open, her eyes so disarming and friendly. “True. So, let’s sleep on it. We have a few more days before I leave. Let’s see how you feel about it on my last day.” She leans in and kisses me fully on the lips, one hand slipping right under my jacket and blouse. “And I hope you know what I mean by sleep,” she says when we break from the kiss. “Shall we continue our walk?”
I nod, take her hand in mine, which feels like a surprisingly natural gesture, and stare out into the sea for a few minutes as we walk.
“I’ve been lied to and cheated on for the better part of twenty years. My husband had a mistress when I was in hospital after giving birth to our second child,” Camille says. “But I had no choice but to put my trust in people again. What kind of life would I have if I didn’t?”
I inhale a large gulp of sea air. “You seem like such a confident, well-rounded woman. How did you manage to stay married to him for such a long time?”
“Because he was the father of my children.” She falls silent. “I know how it makes me look. Like a weak woman who didn’t have the strength to walk away from a failed marriage. I had to face myself in the mirror asking myself that question every day, until I reached the conclusion that marriage is about so much more than fidelity.” Her breath shudders. “I didn’t want to raise my children alone. That was a choice I made early on and I stuck with it. Also, because I wasn’t ready to come out, I guess. Not for a long time. And I knew it was futile to demand of Jean-Claude he stop messing around with other women. It’s only natural for us mere mortals to be attracted to more people than the one we’ve chosen to marry. I fully believe in that. Some people choose to act on that attraction. For some, like my ex-husband, it’s more like a compulsion. In the end, it mattered less to me than having to make a life on my own. And I know I did say last night that I took my marriage vows too seriously to take things further with a woman I met… But that wasn’t entirely truthful. I was scared. Scared of what it might do to me. Of the point of no return. In that respect, I have always valued my role as a mother more than any other role I’ve had in my life. Which is one of the reasons I came on this trip after my youngest left home. And why I could finally push for a divorce when Ben was in his last year of high school.”
“Wow.”
“And I wish my story was unusual,” Camille continues, “but it’s not. It’s as commonplace as anything. So many women have done what I’ve done, because we are mothers and our children always come first.”
“It reminds me a lot of Micky’s story, except I don’t think Darren cheated on her.”
“Oh, there are endless variations, but it always comes down to the same thing.”
“What about the lack of respect your husband showed you by going behind your back time and time again?”
“He showed his respect for me in other ways and I had to learn not to let my respect for him depend on that. Let me be clear here, for Jean-Claude it was definitely compulsive. Things could have been so different between us if only he’d been honest. We could have had a productive conversation, come to some sort of arrangement. But that was not the case.”
“Like an open marriage, you mean?” I chuckle. “You should talk to Caitlin.”
“Is she an expert on the matter?” Camille’s voice is serious.
“Oh yes. Something she and I disagree on greatly.”
“Really? Have you always disagreed on it? Or only since you found out you’d been cheated on?”
Camille should be the interviewer. She always has the best questions. “She lived in America for a long time and came back just as things went awry between me and Rebecca, so I guess my vision on the matter was a little tainted in most conversations we’ve had about it. But, yes, I do know that cheating and dishonesty have no place in an open relationship. It’s about the exact opposite. I know all the theories, I just don’t think I would be able to live like that.” My tone is getting tenser. I can so easily predict this conversation spiraling into a rant about Rebecca—the last topic I want to discuss with Camille on this beautiful autumn day.
“I would love to talk to Caitlin some time,” Camille says.
“I’m sure she would love to talk to you.” I run my thumb over the palm of her hand. “Would you like me to set something up?”
“That would be nice. Just to get a different perspective on you.”
“It’s so unfair. I don’t get to chat to any of your friends.”
“You would have to travel to Paris for that.”
“Only if you can hook me up with Dominique Laroche.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she says, stops in her tracks, and kisses me again. To anyone passing by, we must look like a couple newly in love.
“How about we go back to my place now?” I ask.
“Did our conversation from earlier upset you?” Camille asks after I’ve given her a quick tour of my house—technically still my and Rebecca’s house. It feels strange to bring Camille here, where we lived together for more than ten years. When I asked Rebecca if she’d ever brought Julie here to have sex with and she reluctantly confirmed she had, it was one of the things that stung the most. Because it violated the place we had created together, out of our love and commitment to each other. Another reason I want to get rid of this house as quickly as possible.
“No. Not really. It just made me think of my ex and, er, some of the things she accused me of.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that exes are very good at blaming others for their own mistakes, to justify them. But it cuts both ways. When a relationship ends, it’s hardly ever because one person screwed up. I think it might be statistically impossible. And I’m a scientist. I know all about statistics.”
“How did you possibly screw up in your marriage?”
“In many ways I don’t really want to confess to you right now. It doesn’t really strike me as the right timing.” She heels off her shoes and draws her feet up onto the couch.
“Well, then…” I know this question is completely beside the point. I just feel like some mischief to lighten the mood. “Do tell me if you also think I lack passion.”
Camille gives a throaty laugh. “From my point of view, passion is the very last thing you lack.”
“Thank you.” I know I’m comparing apples to oranges, but it doesn’t matter. I just wanted to hear Camille say
it.
“Speaking of passion.” She pronounces it the French way, and it sounds so much more sensual. It makes me want to enroll in an immersive French course as soon as I get the chance. “Or maybe I should call it chemistry. Or attraction. I sincerely believe it’s a thing that exists in a tangible way between two people. Like last night, there was quite a bit of it in the air.” She extends her leg so her foot touches my thigh. “I wouldn’t mind another taste of that. Even if just to see if it’s still there. As I just said, I’m a scientist and I like to do research experiments.”
“What kind of experiment did you have in mind?” Something in my core is melting already. It’s her eyes on me and how they take me back to last night, and the change of light in them and how it states her intentions.
“Well, basically, my second time with a woman.” Her smile is less confident.
“For a first timer, you were pretty spectacular.” I grab hold of her leg and stretch it over my lap, massaging her calf through her jeans.
She scrunches her lips into a pout. “Then we must test to see if it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”
“Oh, luck was definitely involved. If those smoke detector batteries hadn’t died, we would never have met.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking throughout that sleepless night every time that annoying beep woke me up. I’m about to encounter an incredible stroke of luck. It’s what kept me going.” She brings her hand to her neck. “I so want to ask you about your first time, but my mind is too preoccupied right now.” She sucks her lip into her mouth.
“How about I tell you all about it later? After the experiment?”
“Hm-mm.” Camille bends her legs, pushes herself up, and is on top of me in a matter of seconds.
Chapter Eight
“Are you a woman of leisure now?” Caitlin asks.
“No. I’m about to head to the office. I was just dropping Camille off at the apartment. I need a strong coffee before I start my work day.”