The Man of Their Lives

by Françoise Bourdin

  “Oh, because if my life is not about you, it’s worth nothing?”

  She was trying to take control of the conversation by attacking him, but he wasn’t going to let her. As she was unlocking her car with the remote key, he grabbed her wrist, hard.

  “Do you still love me, Alix?”

  “Do you?”

  “Don’t answer my question with another. I’m talking about you.”

  “But what you say about me hurt!”

  They were so close to one another that he could smell her perfume. He almost yielded. He was stronger than she was, but he didn’t do anything when she yanked her wrist free and gave him a shove.

  “There are more dignified ways of splitting up, Tom,” she said.

  Alix’s tone and expression were so full of scorn that he got truly angry. “One way or any other,” he said, “we’re done. Good riddance.”

  He hadn’t meant those words and he bit his lips. Alix almost fell apart. She clenched her teeth and then look him in the eyes. She never admitted defeat. Tom shouldn’t have forgotten that.

  “Well,” she said with arrogance, “goodbye, then.”

  She got in her car, cracked the window open to let in some air, and turned on the engine. On the sidewalk, Tom heard the roar of the MG as she tried to maneuver out of her tight parking space. He realized that he only had a second or two to avoid the worst. He loved her above everything else, no matter what he’d said.

  “Where are you going?” he said, clutching the car handle.

  “Louis’s, of course. He’s my obsession, remember? Things are much worse than you think, my love. But you never had much imagination…”

  Alix managed to pull out and gunned down the street, leaving Tom dumbfounded. Much worse than he thought—what was she alluding to? Her brother or their situation?

  Passersby were gawking at him, so he decided to start walking and soon hailed a cab. He gave the driver the address to his night club. Once there he’d be able to clear his mind, he hoped. He’d just left Alix, ending a relationship that hadn’t made him happy for a long time. He should feel relieved to be free, but instead he was filled with dread. During the party he’d promised himself never to go to such an excruciating event again. The avalanche of praise for Louis had driven him crazy. It was as if he didn’t exist,. He knew that many women would want to be with him, women who wouldn’t talk about their brothers non-stop. In his club, he was king, and people fought to be let in.

  He had the cab drop him off in the back of the building so he could go to his office on the second floor. In spite of the soundproof floor, Tom could hear the pounding of the music downstairs. He glanced at his watch. One o’clock—the night was just starting. Alix must be on the highway by now, going full speed towards Notre-Dame-de-la-Mer. And what would she do once there? Wake up Louis to cry on his shoulder? No, she couldn’t shed even one tear, he was certain of that. Most likely she’d want to talk business with her brother, have one last drink, and then go to bed.

  Head in hands, Tom tried to chase away the image of Alix standing on the sidewalk. She stood magnificent, proud, and desirable, while he was spewed horrible things her way. Good riddance… How could he have said that to her? Luckily he hadn’t accused her of sleeping with her brother!

  Feeling horrible, he began pacing. None of the young women prancing around on the dance floor downstairs had half of Alix’s class or sophistication. There was no way he was going to replace her with a twenty-something girl. He wasn’t twisted. He was a fifty-year-old man who needed to love a complex, smart, accomplished woman. Alix was all that. A pain in the neck, absolutely, but also energetic and interesting and charming. A woman with a great personality, one he was always proud to be around.

  Louis was by himself at home,Frédéric wasn’t even around. He’d be there to console his sister. Though Louis liked Tom, he was going to take Alix’s side. Those two were that way. Even if they fought all the time, they’d always had this ironclad us-against-the-world stance. Grégoire often commented on their strong connection and how difficult it was to be their father. Poor Laura must’ve felt so isolated as a kid with her siblings joined at the hi[!

  What if Francine was there? Then Alix would be stuck fuming by herself. He wondered which scenario he liked best—stuck in her childhood bedroom or in Louis’s arms.

  In Louis’s arms… Strange thought. So disturbing, that he stormed out of his office and went straight down to the bar. There were a lot of people there. Amidst the racket of the music, the bartender told Tom that no one had called him. What was he thinking, that she was going to phone him here? Now? She probably wasn’t even thinking about him.

  For an hour or so he went around the club, taking care of his customers, cracking jokes and being the charming host, all the while thinking of Alix. Painful questions kept popping up in his mind. To convince himself that other women did still exist, he flirted with a gorgeous young woman for ten minutes. He bought her a glass of expensive champagne, but he left her when he realized that he felt nothing for her.

  Finally, he went back up to his office, hovered over the phone for a moment, and then decided he needed to know where he stood. By calling her he’d lose face, open himself to ridicule, but he had nothing to lose. She’d never forgive him for that scene on the sidewalk earlier tonight anyway, and a little more or a little less resentment wouldn’t change much of anything. He just needed to know. In fact, he’d wanted to know for years, but he’d forced himself to think of other things. But then instead of calling, he had another impulse.

  He took a cab home and went straight to his car. At this time of night there was very little traffic so he made great time reaching Notre-Dame-de-la-Mer. Once on Neuville House’s street, he experienced one last pang of hesitation, but drove to the gate and parked the car nearby. He climbed the wall and landed in the grass on the other side. He was surprised to the see that the lights were turned on in the music room. And yet there was no sound to be heard, no piano or anything else. Alix’s MG was in the driveway. He saw Louis sitting at his piano, a cigarette dangling from his lips, completely absorbed in the sheet music opened in front of him.

  Feeling like an intruder as well as an idiot, Tom rapped on the door before walking in.

  “There you are,” Louis said.

  He left the piano and walked toward Tom. He was barefoot, wearing a dressing gown, looking tired.

  “Where’s Alix?” Tom asked, his voice husky.

  “In my bed.”

  The answer seemed incongruous to Tom. But at the same time, it was one he’d expected somehow.

  “In your bed,” he said.

  He was so angry even he was scared. Filled with disgust, rage, resentment—he almost went for Louis’s throat. Instead, he ran up the stairs that led to the bedroom. One of the bedside lamps was on. Tom saw Alix asleep in her black silk pajamas all buttoned up.

  “What’re you doing?” Louis said in a low voice, standing behind Tom. “Let her sleep. She cried for an hour. I didn’t think I was going to be able to calm her down.”

  Tom saw that Alix’s eyes were puffed up, her hands clutched the pillow. There was a bottle of water on the night stand.

  Tom had difficulty breathing he felt so ashamed. Then Louis grabbed him by the shoulder.

  “Let’s get out of here. You two have fought enough for one night.”

  “She was crying?” Tom mumbled. “My God, Louis, I’m so sorry…” He looked like he was going to break down crying himself.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Louis said. “Are you drunk or something?”

  He got ahold of Tom’s arm and pulled him out of the room. Terribly embarrassed, Tom went down the stairs. At first, he couldn’t reveal the true reason for his intrusion.

  “I knew you were going to come over,” Louis said. “She cares about you a lot, but you’ll never be able to change who she is. I thought you’d figured that out by now.”

  Tom turned to Louis and cleared his throat. “Let me t
ell you something. It’s awful, but I thought—”

  He was interrupted by the ring of the phone.

  “Now what?” Louis said. “It’s three o’clock in the morning. What a night!”

  He picked up. “Allô?” Then he listened and furrowed his brows.

  “Lou-iss!” screamed a familiar voice. “Is that really you? I love your accent. Please say ‘Allô’ to me one more time!”

  “Frank? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “No clue. Here, the sky is blue and the ocean is calm. Besides, who cares? You know what? I just heard your Pacific. This is going to be the hit of the year according to my buddy in the music industry. He made me listen to it and even before he told me who wrote it I knew it was you.”

  “How nice of you…”

  “I could swear you played something like that when you were in L.A., one time, when I was around.”

  “Maybe… And you like it?”

  “I hate it! Blech! It’s like a mélange of syrupy Brazilian Muzak and Hungarian techno—how could you do that?”

  “You’re such a great friend, Frank. And a true connoisseur…”

  Louis was laughing, all of a sudden in a better mood.

  Tom asked him who was on the line.

  “Who’s there with you?” he said to Louis. “That was a man’s voice, right? Oh, Lou-iss, have you finally seen the light? There’s a man in your life?”

  “Settle down, big boy. It’s basically my future-ex-brother-in-law, not a basketball player.”

  “Oh well, too bad. Say, I’ll be in Paris in a couple of weeks and I absolutely need to see you. I have a screenplay I want you to read.”

  “Again with the mean streets? Sex and violence and mayhem. Don’t even think about it, Frank.”

  “No, not at all. It’s a romantic thing, just like you. Melodramatic shit, set in Europe. That’s why I thought of you instead of John Williams! Since he’s worked with Spielberg…”

  “You can’t afford him, is that it? Too bad, but you should know that every time I listen to the Schindler’s List soundtrack, I cry.”

  “You’re such a queer. So, can we talk when I’m in Paris?”

  “Sure. You want the red carpet treatment when you arrive at Charles de Gaulle?”

  “No. I have Parisian friends who are more interesting than you to see first.”

  Louis laughed. “Okay, but put aside twenty-four hours. I’m inviting you to my house.”

  “I’m so thrilled I’m beside myself.”

  “But you should know that I don’t have a pool.”

  “A few ice cubes in a tall glass is all I need. You still owe me a drink, remember?”

  “Don’t you worry about that.”

  “Cool. I’ll be at the Hôtel Plaza-Athénée starting June 16. Okay, go to bed now and give blondie a kiss for me. Ciao!”

  Louis laughed and hung up. Then his smile slowly went away as he was lost in thought for a moment. Then he looked up at Tom.

  “Was that your Hollywood director?”

  “Frank James, yes.”

  “I thought you hated the man. You were so frustrated when you came back from Los Angeles.”

  “Well, in hindsight I realized that we did good work together, even though I hated every minute of it when I was over there.”

  He scratched the back of his head, still thinking.

  “All the directors have their favorite composers. If I become Frank’s, I’ll be in a pretty good spot.”

  A moth had flown into the house and Louis began running after it, trying to direct it back outside. An old habit, since Frédéric had been afraid of moths when he was little. Once the insect was freed, Louis returned to Tom.

  “What were you going to say when the phone rang?”

  “I can’t remember…”

  Louis scrutinized Tom, who felt embarrassed all over again.

  He hated to lie. Five minutes earlier he’d almost confessed why he’d come over to the house. But he didn’t have the courage to do so now. He was convinced that Louis would strangle him if he revealed the true reason he came. He lifted his head and produced a guilty smile.

  “So,” he said, “what was that about me being your ‘future-ex-brother-in-law’?”

  “I was just being a smart aleck. I’d like you to be my brother-in-law. But, remember, you’re the one who left my sister…”

  “Would it be okay if I spent the rest of the night here? When Alix gets up, I’ll talk to her and try to make her forgive me. Do you think it’s too late?”

  “Tom, are you blind or what? You know how Alix hates for anyone to step on her toes.”

  “But since she’s sad that we split and so am I…”

  “Right. Put the pieces of the puzzle back together, if you can. But you better be ready to pay the price.”

  “It’s not as though things have ever been easy with Alix. Well, I should let you go. You must be dog-tired.”

  “I’m beyond that, actually. Why don’t I make a pot of coffee? You and I can chat some more on the veranda and see the sunrise.”

  Tom gave him a grateful look, relieved that he could stay here, to still be considered a friend by Louis. Good thing he hadn’t said anything. Louis wouldn’t have understood.

  * * *

  Frédéric spent the entire week in Paris. He’d shut himself in his room for the first couple of days, waiting for his father to call. Reluctantly, he’d joined his grandfather for his jaunts in the Jardin du Luxembourg, where he sat on a bench and studied for his exams. Late Friday afternoon, when everyone was getting ready to leave for Notre-Dame-de-la-Mer, Frédéric went over to Hugues. He wanted to go home, but didn’t know whether or not he should. His uncle convinced him that the best thing to do was simply to hop in the car with them. Once at the house, he should just go with the flow.

  Crammed in the back of the station wagon with Grégoire and his cousins, Frédéric had an hour to think things over. His father’s silence, understandable at first, had become more and more puzzling as the week went on. They’d never had a serious fight before; only a few clashes here and there that were rapidly forgotten. He realized that he never should’ve let this dispute become so huge. His conversations with Laura and Grégoire had made him conclude the ball was in his court. It was up to him to heal the rift or make it deeper.

  When the station wagon parked in front of the house, Frédéric was first to get out. Without waiting for anyone, he darted down the hallway towards the music room. He pushed the door open—no one was there. A quick glance outside confirmed that the Alfa Romeo was parked in its usual spot and that there were no other cars. His dad was here, with no one else. He charged up the stairs, and found empty the bedroom. He ran down the hallway, peaking inside every room. Finally he came back to the master bedroom and stopped in front of his father’s bathroom, out of breath. The sound of the shower was so reassuring. Frédéric hesitated for one second and then said, “Dad?”

  The water turned off and Louis’s head appeared from behind the shower curtain.

  “Frédéric, it’s you!” Louis said with a beaming smile. “I thought I’d shower before you guys arrived. It’s been a hot day. Hand me that towel.”

  Frédéric did, and as soon as Louis had wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower, the kid threw himself against his father.

  “I’m so sorry, Dad. I don’t know what to say. Are you mad at me? I didn’t dare call you because…”

  “Let’s get out of the bathroom so we can talk, okay?”

  Frédéric took a step back, his T-shirt all wet. Louis grabbed him by the back of the neck and shook him gently.

  “I’m happy to see you, Fred,” said Louis. “Very, very happy. But you and I have things to talk about. You want to get it over with now?”

  “Yes,” Frédéric replied. “The sooner the better.”

  There was a trace of tension between the two of them, but they were both glad to be together again.

  “Let’s go to
your room,” Louis suggested. “The poor cleaning lady did her thing in there. It was a pigsty.”

  This was an old sore spot between them, so it wasn’t contentious, unlike what might happen next. Frédéric had no illusions. His father was going to get to the bottom of things.

  “Isn’t this better?” Louis said, once in the bedroom.

  Frédéric looked at the organized desktop, the made bed, the bare floor. He sat on the end of the bed, while his father opted for the only chair in the room.

  “Did you study down in Paris?”

  “During the day with Grandpa, and in the evening with Laura or Hugues.”

  “Are you going back with them on Sunday?”

  “No.”

  “So you brought your stuff with you?”

  “It’s in the station wagon.”

  “Good. I’m happy. On the other hand, a lot of things upset me this past week. You leaving like that without a word, as though you couldn’t stand the house or me, that was hard to swallow. Francine and Romain came over once, in your absence. That night you took off. The fact that you weren’t there made me look like a fool.”

  Head low, Frédéric was listening carefully. He was glad that his father was doing the talking.

  “Francine is the woman I love, Frédéric, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m forty. That may be old to you, but I still have a bunch of needs and desires. One of them is to be happy in love. But I do realize this is still a new relationship and I don’t want to rush anything and cause anyone any pain. Especially not you! I’m not going to marry her this summer, and I won’t be adopting Romain. He has a father of his own. But I’m also not going to leave Francine because you don’t like her. I can’t force you to like her or even make you pretend not to. You’re my son. I love you more than anything and this is your home. But please let me have a life, too.”

  He stopped speaking, and held his breath. Frédéric really didn’t know how to respond to this speech. Silence settled between the two of them until Louis decided to continue.

  “We’re at a bit of an impasse, aren’t we? I’ve thought about this a lot, and couldn’t come up with a miraculous solution. You’re leaving for England on July 20th as planned, right? That’s good, since you need some time to think things over…”