The Man of Their Lives

by Françoise Bourdin

  Frédéric blinked. His father wasn’t the type to hold grudges, but he had a long memory and the words that Frédéric uttered weren’t going to be forgotten any time soon.

  “That’s a two-week thing. We could find you another camp after that, if you’d like.”

  “No, no…”

  “Or maybe you could go join Laura and Hugues in Brittany. They’re renting a cottage up there this summer.”

  Frédéric shook his head stubbornly. He looked at the posters on the wall, the familiar objects on the shelves, the couple of teddy bears that had made it through the years, and finally back to his father’s face. He wasn’t the same man as in the pictures on Grégoire’s wall. He was older, more serious-looking, a bit gaunt, though his smile remained youthful. Any woman would find him attractive. It was ridiculous to pretend, as Alix did, that women were only interested in him for his fame and money. Frédéric didn’t want to be unfair, especially since he was partly responsible for his father falling for Francine. He couldn’t forget about that. He’d thought he was mature enough to act like some grownup and set up his father with a woman. Now he wanted nothing more than for the relationship to end, which his Uncle Hugues had called cruel and juvenile.

  “You know, Dad, I can get along with Francine. It’s not like I hate her…”

  Head cocked to the side, Louis waited for what else his son had to say.

  “I mean, if she’s not here every single evening and doesn’t act like she owns the place, we could get to know each other.”

  “That’s very nice of you,” Louis said seriously.

  “But you can’t expect me to like Romain. At best I can ignore him when he’s around.”

  Both father and were conscious of the efforts they had made—it was a good start. Louis and Frédéric were silent for a while. Then, Louis walked over to his son, and messed up his brown hair, like he’d always done. And then he planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “You’re stubborn as a mule,” he mumbled, squeezing his kid tight.

  * *

  Overexcited and anxious, students were standing around in the yard. Everyone had an opinion as to what questions would be on the French lit exam, but nobody knew for sure.

  Romain, Richard, and Damien were in the crowd. Élise was in the yard,chatting with two other girls. Romain gave her a sideways glance. She looked particularly beautiful that morning--already tanned, totally comfortable in her skin as usual, sharply dressed. He’d tried hard to avoid her since she’d expressed her need for independence, but he wasn’t able to forget about her.

  Shielding her eyes with her hand, Élise was now looking at the parking lot, past school buses emptying out. Romain spotted Frédéric stepping out of Louis’ car The two had run into each other in the hallway the day before but no one said, a single word. Curious, Romain kept his eyes on Frédéric, who joined another group of kids. The doors weren’t going to open for another fifteen minutes and someone had lit a joint. Romain took a drag when it reached him, while Frédéric made his way to Élise. He saw them share a smile. Around him, people began talking about their summer vacations, and he remembered that he was going to spend two weeks on the coast of Brittany with his father in August. Antoine loved fishing, and eating lobster or any kind of seafood at that small restaurant they always went to. The water would be cold, as always, and most of the conversation would be about Romain’s future. Thankfully, he be able to meet up with Richard in La Rochelle for the Francofolies music festival, where he’d be able to attend a few shows and break up the monotony of the trip.

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see Élise standing next to him. Frédéric wasn’t with her.

  “How are you doing?” she said with a pout. “I’m the one who had to come over to say hi. You don’t want to see me anymore, you don’t talk to me, you even walk away when you see me around. I managed to catch you now because you were daydreaming… Are you worried about your exam?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “I imagine that ‘Teacher Mom’ helped you study.”

  Her joke and the playful smile didn’t cheer up Romain. He knew that Élise had supported Frédéric when he disrupted Francine’s classes.

  “Leave my mother out of this,” he said.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be so touchy. Besides, the year is almost over!”

  He lowered his eyes so as not to see how attractive she was.

  “Richard invited me to his party on Saturday,” she said. “Are you going to be there?”

  She held his hand for a second, making him feel lightheaded. Before he had time to say anything, the bell rang and the school doors opened and the rush of students separated them.

  * * *

  Francine grabbed the pile of folders, wrapped an elastic band around it, and stuffed everything in the filing cabinet. The school year was over, she was done with grading all those papers. Now she could forget about all those students. Next year would bring new names, new faces.

  September… She preferred not to think about that now. She’d sworn she wasn’t going to be a teacher for her entire career, but now she didn’t know. After leaving Antoine, she wanted to become a principal, and she’d given herself three years to make it. This goal now seemed at odds with her private life. The courses she would need to take to become a school administrator would occupy all her free time. And then she might have to move away if she got a job in another town, another part of the country.

  In his room, Romain was trying to master a fast-paced flamenco. He kept stopping and trying again. They’d had lunch together, in the apartment’s tiny kitchen, and he’d promised that he was going to spend Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday at Antoine’s studying, but first he wanted an hour or two to practice.

  Francine opened her closet, wondering what to wear. Louis was going to arrive soon, on time as usual. They’d go for a ride and have a drink somewhere. That’s when she would tell him about his son’s catastrophic grades. As his homeroom teacher, she’d gone to bat for Frédéric, but the administration wanted to hold him back. No decision had been made yet. This reminded her of that Saturday morning when Louis first walked into her classroom, so attractive and so unapproachable, she’d fallen for him right away.

  It was a terribly hot and the weatherman was calling for storms by the end of the day. She selected a tank top with narrow straps and a short trapeze skirt. Since they weren’t going to spend the evening together, Francine had an almost spiteful desire to look as attractive as possible. Of course, she understood Louis’s position. His son had just returned home and Louis wanted to let things settle down for a bit. As vulnerable and impatient as he was, he was undoubtably suffering from the situation, which he tried to control as best he could without hurting anyone. Francine couldn’t help feeling worried. And frustrated.

  She recognized the sound of the Alfa Romeo and touched up her hair and lipstick. She opened the door before he even rang the bell, and found him on the landing with a bouquet of roses. He took her in his arms, clumsily because of the flowers.

  “Are those because you feel guilty for not spending the night with me?” she said with a smile while taking the bouquet.

  She’d meant it as a joke, not a reproach, but she saw him stiffen.

  “Louis… I was only kidding. Come in.”

  He followed her in the living room and plunked down on the sofa as comfortable as if he were home. He’d never commented on Francine’s apartment, and she was grateful for that.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee before we head out?”

  “Sure,” he said. Then, turning toward the hallway, he added, “What’s your son playing?”

  Louis listened but couldn’t really make out the music.

  “Mind if I go over?” he said, getting up.

  He went straight for Romain’s room and slowly opened the door. He stood in the doorway for a minute.

  “Hey there,” he said, when Romain stopped playing. “So, you’re giving the soleà a go? That’s
not easy.”

  “Yeah,” Romain admitted with a smile. “I’m having a hard time.

  “You know, above all flamenco is strumming with your thumb. Do you know Paco de Lucía? You should buy his CDs, they’re amazing. Play that C major chord again? It’s a twelve-beat cycle, don’t forget. Good… Not easy, the Andalusian cadence, hmm?”

  Romain played the chords again, five times in a row, until Louis gave him a nod of the head.

  “Not bad,” he said. “Not bad at all.”

  After a brief pause, he stepped into the room and leaned against the wall.

  “I haven’t had the chance to talk to you much since your concert. You’re talented, Romain. I don’t know what you want to do with that talent, how far you want to take it, but you have a great feel for your instrument. It’s not something you see every day. I mean, I’m not a guitar player, and it’s just my opinion…”

  Romain’s laughter puzzled Louis.

  “You’re too much,” the teenager said. “And very nice, thank you.”

  “You know,” Louis said, “after high school, if you’d like to go to college in a music program, I know people in Paris and elsewhere. It wouldn’t prevent you from taking classes in other subjects. I know you’re good at math and science. Anyway, you have time to think about it. And I know that your father is not too… too enthusiastic about you playing music.”

  Right away Louis regretted the allusion to Romain’s father. He didn’t want to appear like he was insulting him. No kid would appreciate that.

  “Well,” he said, “I’m going to hang out with your mother now. See you soon, Romain.”

  He joined Francine in the kitchen, and drank his coffee with her at the table. The roses were on the table in a vase that was too small for the bouquet. He imagined her eating here later tonight, by herself, with maybe the radio playing in the background. For a second he felt terribly sad.

  “Shall we go for a ride, Ms. Capelan?” he said.

  As they walked to the Alfa Romeo, Louis thought he wanted to take Francine for a long drive so he would have the time to tell her how much he was thinking about her. He also wanted to tell her about his fears. Was he going to be able to make everything work between them? He wasn’t sure what she was expecting exactly. He didn’t want them to have a fragmented relationship, like Tom and Alix’s. But he didn’t want to completely change their existence, especially in a way that would be to the detriment of both their sons.

  “What’s wrong?” Francine asked Louis.

  “Nothing.”

  She didn’t like the way he said that, or his tone. He was retreating into himself. She stepped in front of him and blocked his way.

  “If you’d rather go back to the house, I’d understand…”

  She didn’t have time to add anything. He took her in his arms with such vigor he took her breath away. She snuggled against his chest, waiting for him to calm down. She could feel that he needed to talk, needed to confide in her. Very early on in their relationship she’d realized that he was extremely sensitive, which she considered a nice quality in a man. He was the complete opposite of Antoine. He was insecure about everything, including his talent as a musician. His rapport with women was complex, maybe because of Alix, or the death of his wife. Francine had been able to read his contradictory behavior and found ways, instinctively, to make him fall in love with her. He was made for her, no matter the obstacles standing between them.

  “Are you doing better?” she asked him after a while.

  “No,” he said, his voice now filled with happiness. “Now it’s worse; I want you…”

  * * *

  Tom smiled as Alix was ordering. She’d selected the most expensive items on the menu, fresh foie gras and lobster. This meal was going to cost him a fortune, as expected. She’d accepted his invitation only if he got a table at the Grand Véfour. She knew full well how much it would cost there, and hadn’t chosen that restaurant by accident.

  With a caustic smile, she asked the sommelier to point out his very best bottle of white burgundy. She’d arrived twenty minutes late. Tom had had time to drink a glass of champagne, while keeping an eye on the entrance. When she did walk in, most of the diners noticed. She wore a dark blue silk outfit that Tom had never seen before and it looked dazzling on her. She also sported a new hairstyle, one that made her look sassier.

  “You are… stunning,” he’d blurted.

  They were shown their table and she’d begun studying the menu right away, which gave Tom a chance to examine her. It was only after they were alone—after they’d ordered the drinks and the food— that she finally decided to look at him. Her expression was devoid of tenderness.

  “Doesn’t look like you’ve had too much sleep lately,” she said.

  “Well, you know how it is in my business,” he replied.

  Long nights, drinking too much, not being to fall asleep even at dawn—all this and an insufferable loneliness had caused the dark circles under Tom’s eyes. He’d made heroic efforts not to call her for an entire week, but then broke down. Following Louis’s advice eight days earlier, he’d left Neuville House before Alix woke up, and had waited in vain for her to contact him.

  “I’m thinking of going to a thalassotherapy spa or something like it to rest up a bit,” he sighed.

  “Good idea! It would do you a lot of good, I’m sure.”

  Before work made him a night owl, Tom had played sports. But that was a long time ago. Before Alix, he’d had his share of relationships too, including two failed marriages.

  “You must be up to your eyeballs with work?” he ventured.

  “You’ve got that right. With summer coming up and all the touring and the festivals, I’ve had to negotiate I don’t know how many contracts, a lot of them pretty measly. Sometimes I think that actors are so desperate they’ll accept any kind of deal as long as they can be on stage! On the other hand, I got a terrific deal for my heartthrob actor. Remember the photo I showed you? A nice role in a new TV series that might make him a star.”

  She was effusive about her work. Tom watched her, as usual jumping between admiration and irritation.

  “The video clip for Pacific is amazing!” she continued. “Have you seen it?”

  “You know me,” Tom said. “I don’t watch much television.”

  “Of course, Louis wanted nothing to do with it.”

  She let go of a throaty burst of laughter, not at all embarrassed to mention her brother. He remained her prime preoccupation, and she would never deny it.

  “I would’ve loved a few scenes of him sitting at the piano. Women from all around the world would’ve gone crazy. But you know him, he absolutely wouldn’t do it. It was as though I’d asked him to take off his clothes or something. So we had to settle with dancers and images of the ocean. But it’s gorgeous—the director we hired is brilliant!”

  Another laugh, followed by a pause when the sommelier came with the bottle of wine.

  “So I gather you wouldn’t have time for a vacation?” Tom said.

  “No time at all!” she said.

  “Not even three days?”

  This time, she shot him a look of curiosity.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m inviting you.”

  “To go where?”

  “Wherever you’d like, my love.”

  The last time they’d gone somewhere together was three years ago. Alix hated vacations, and was bored to death away from her agency. She only went away for professional reasons, and she loved those trips.

  “I can’t, Tom,” she said.

  He’d expected this answer, but still insisted.

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  “Both.”

  He was the one who’d tried to break up, to reject her. She simply wasn’t going to let go so easily. All of a sudden, he felt extremely tired. Why bother trying to make things work with her? She would never give him what he hoped for in a relationship.

  “Well, too bad,�
�� he said. “So, where are we now, you and me?”

  He didn’t want to play games anymore. He wanted to know where he stood.

  “We’re good,” she said. “I mean, here I am having dinner with you. But we’re not together anymore. You’re the one who wanted it that way, remember.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “No, you weren’t! And you’ll find a woman who is much more available than me. And younger, too. A woman you’ll be able to have a kid with. Why not?”

  “You’re ten years younger than I am, that’s young enough! And I never wanted to have kids, except with you.”

  They’d talked about it in the beginning but then they’d stopped because she was never really serious. Tom had always been the one making the effort, always. Alix’s need for independence was a badge of honor.

  “Why don’t we forget about the other night?” Tom said.

  “Easy for you to say! You’re not the one who got dumped on the sidewalk in the middle of the night! Actually, let me tell you something. You did me a favor that night. The breakup was quite a hit to my spirits and my ego…”

  “And your heart?”

  “Yes, that too. And I promised myself it wouldn’t happen ever again.”

  For once, she wasn’t taunting him. She was dead serious and honest.

  “Everybody thinks I’m this tough broad, you know. Gung-ho and all business. But things do affect me. And I never thought I’d hear you say such mean things to me: ‘Good riddance.’ Why not say, ‘Good riddance, fatso,’ while you’re at it?”

  “Come on, Alix,” Tom muttered.

  He was crushed, but she kept on looking straight at him, staring him down. He’d hurt her feelings, and the wound was deeper than he’d thought. She’d gotten over it, or she tried to make it seem that way, now he was condemned to suffer.

  “Give me one more chance,” he said, in an almost inaudible voice.

  Alix said nothing. She took a sip of wine, then picked up her utensils and attacked the foie gras. Tom didn’t know if he should stay put and be humiliated all evening or if she should get up and run away from this place. Better yet— he could topple the table on her lap before leaving. He’d put an end to it all finally, instead of trying all night to get her to forgive him.