Damien, who was DJing, decided that it was time for a slow jam. He’d spotted Romain and Élise chatting away in a corner and it looked like they were about to make up. The idea of the slow tune was especially good, since Frédéric wasn’t around. He was in the kitchen, where he was devouring the pizzas that had just been delivered. Weed made people hungry, everyone knew that.
A few seconds into the song, Élise led Romain in front of the speakers. She nestled against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and they began to sway, slowly. Élise had arrived an hour or so ago, wearing a bit too much makeup. Still gorgeous, she was set on being the center of attention. First she’d had a couple of drinks, then she’d danced for a while, and then she’d gone over to Romain and didn’t let go of him.
Without knowing it, Romain chose the best strategy when he had ignored Élise for the past few weeks. It wounded her pride and triggered the irresistible need to win him all over again when the boy who’d been so smitten with her refused to glance her way. After looking at all the boys in her click, she had further regretted leaving Romain. If she waited too long to do something, he might find another girlfriend. Of course, there was Frédéric. She was somewhat attracted to him, but he wasn’t as mature as Romain. Plus, he was unpredictable and, at times, still a bit spoiled.
“I thought you didn’t want people to think you were my girlfriend,” Romain whispered in her ear sarcastically.
She responded by pressing her body against his even more, her hips moving to the slow rhythm of the music. A bit surprised, Romain let her continue her seduction, curious to see where it would lead.
“For someone who didn’t want to go too far,” he said after a moment, “you’re pretty affectionate.”
His voice quivered, as the cool façade he was trying to put up was crumbling. He tried to walk away from her, but she wouldn’t let him.
“Why don’t you give me a kiss?” Élise said, lifting her face toward his.
Regardless of appearances, they were both intimidated; they were getting seriously turned on.
“It might break the hearts of your admirers,” he whispered.
Leaning against her, he felt the sudden certainty that something big was going to happen between them. She looked so determined that he was thrown into a panic. He had had sex once a year ago, but it had been too rushed to make him feel confident. He remembered the girl, older than he was and not particularly attractive. It was behind the rocks on the beach where he and some buddies had started a bonfire. Haphazard and clumsy gestures in the dark, the sudden orgasm. It would be different with Élise, and he’d have to be up to the task. They’d flirted for three months since that December evening when he’d kissed her for the first time. He knew some of her likes and almost all the contours of her body. But that wouldn’t be enough for him to be a good lover. Especially since he was certain he was going to be her first.
“We could go somewhere a little less noisy?” she suggested with a tight smile.
He took her by the waist and went over to the table where Richard was still tending bar.
Romain snatched a bottle of gin and said, “I’m borrowing this.”
The two boys traded a knowing glance, and Richard, nonchalant, said, “Why don’t you guys go up to my room. It’ll be nice and quiet in there.”
It was now or never—the ideal situation wouldn’t present itself again any time soon. Despite his worries, Romain felt a wave of happiness. He’d been terribly upset losing Élise and had done everything not to think about her. He really was in love with her, now he could now admit it to himself.
“Want to dance?”
A aggressive voice behind the two of them had asked the question. Élise was first to turn toward Frédéric. As she was grappling for the right response, Romain said, “Yeah, right. Like she’s going to dance with you.”
He still was holding Élise’s hand and still clutching the bottle of gin.
“What,” Frédéric said, with a tense look on his face, “you’re speaking for her now?”
“Listen,” Élise began. “I... I don’t feel like dancing, thank you.”
Her embarrassed smile made things worse. For Frédéric, it was obvious that Élise had made her choice, and he wasn’t it. He’d promised to be cool tonight, to do nothing to ruin Richard’s party but he couldn’t stand what was about to happen between Romain and Élise. Romain’s intentions were obvious; he wanted to take Élise upstairs so they could drink and have sex.
“You’re not going to leave the party now,” he said, in a fake friendly tone. “It’s too early!”
New music was playing. Damien had put on an upbeat French rock song, hoping to change the atmosphere in the room. Before anyone had time to react, Frédéric grabbed Élise’s free hand and said, “Let’s dance.” Confused, Élise almost followed him. Then Romain jumped in front of Frédéric, looking very menacing.
“Leave us the fuck alone,” he spewed angrily.
Seconds later, Romain and Frédéric crashed down on a glass coffee table.
* * *
After all the rain that night, steam was rising from the ground. The air was heavy, overwhelming, and once in a while lightning crisscrossed the sky. Louis was driving with his windows down, wearing sandals. The timing of Frédéric’s call, which came earlier than expected, was far from perfect. Francine laughed, amused by the interruption. Louis, for his part, had felt completely frustrated.
He took a right onto the street lined with small houses and saw Frédéric on the sidewalk in front of Richard’s. The party must’ve been pretty boring for him to want to leave or he got into a nasty argument. Louis parked on the curb and was speechless when his son took a seat. Frédéric’s shirt was completely torn and he had a deep gash on his left cheek, where blood had congealed. Worst of all was the kid’s distraught demeanor, an expression he’d never seen on Frédéric before.
Instead of putting the car in gear, Louis pulled on the hand break and took a deep breath.
“What happened, buddy?” he said with all the calm he could muster.
Even before Frédéric opened his mouth, Louis knew the answer. How could he have been so irresponsible? Instead of making out with Francine, he should’ve thought about how those two boys were going to behave without supervision. Just because they’d been forced to behave properly in front of their parents didn’t prevent them from fight somewhere else—quite the contrary.
“What happened?” Louis insisted.
“I think you know,” Frédéric replied. His tone was arrogant.
“Oh, yeah! And I know that you’re not done giving me headaches!”
“Me? What about him?”
“I don’t care about Romain. This is about you. So?”
“So... nothing.”
He knew he’d messed up so his he was acting intentionally obstinate, while trying in vain to come up with a good explanation for his father. He did realize that he was responsible for the fight. He turned to the only way out available to him.
“This has nothing to do with you. It’s got nothing to do with Francine, either. It’s something between me and him.”
“A something named Élise?”
Frédéric bit his lower lip, which caused him more pain since his entire face was throbbing.
“Let’s go, Dad, please. I want to get away from here.”
He wanted to avoid the other kids to come out of the house and see him argue with his old man in the car.
“No,” Louis said. He turned off the engine and turned to Frédéric. “I want to know exactly what happened. Right now!”
“We beat the crap out of each other. Happy now?”
“Wonderful! That was such a wonderful thing for you two to do. It’s going to make things so much simpler from now on.”
Now that they’d both screamed at each other, they sat back and tried to compose themselves.
“Frédéric,” Louis said. “You promised you were going to ignore him. Did he attack you or something?”
>
“No. I’m actually the one who started it.”
“Why?”
It was hard for Frédéric to come out with the truth but eventually he did tell his father what happened. Anger had blinded him when he saw Romain back with Élise. They both grabbed each other and crashed on the coffee table and kept fighting until their friends separated and then yelled at them both.
“Did you clean up the mess?”
“Yes. The table is in pieces, though.”
“Tell Richard tomorrow that I’ll pay for it.”
Exhausted, disappointed, humiliated, Frédéric leaned against the headrest. Louis turned on the car light and examined the cut on son’s face. He said nothing and switched off the light.
“Still,” Frédéric sighed. “What a bitch. She’d dumped him. They weren’t even speaking to each other.”
“Everyone is allowed to change their minds. Besides, I hate for you to call any girl a bitch...”
“Well, at least I managed to break up what they were going to do upstairs.”
“Don’t be so petty, Frédéric. Really... And dealing with your problems by fighting, what’s that all about?”
“I won. He’s going to wake up tomorrow morning with a black eye, I’m telling you. He’s bigger than me, but he wasn’t quick enough.”
In truth, they’d each had time to throw half a dozen blows before the other boys managed to split them up. When things settled down, Élise glared at him before taking Romain to the bathroom to help him clean up. Richard had taken care of him in the kitchen, tending to his wounds while giving him an earful. Thankfully, the incident hadn’t killed the party. On the contrary, as soon as the room had been fixed up, Damien put on some popular song turned the volume way up, and had people start to dance. After he apologized once more to Richard, Frédéric his slipped out of the house, and called his father.
“You need to learn to control your emotions,” Louis said. He started the engine and the Alfa Romeo took off.
A bit of cool air came into the car, but the night was still stifling.
“You can’t start fighting every time you disagree with someone...” Though exasperated, Louis had uttered these words with his usual gentleness.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. Are you going to tell Francine? Is she at the house?”
“Yes, she’s there... For now, she still wants to spend nights with me. But soon we’ll be arguing because of you two...”
“That’s stupid!”
“You’re telling me!”
“You have to...”
“To what? Act as if you guys didn’t exist? Francine is going to take her son’s side. She’ll want to defend him, protect him. And that’s normal, of course. I’ll do exactly the same for you, and so we’ll have no common ground. What we could do is wait a few years, until both you and Romain leave the nest.”
Louis had said that last bit with a derisive tone, which Frédéric picked up on. He hadn’t thought about his father when he let letting anger get the best of him earlier. Nor did he think about poor Richard or even Élise, as a matter of fact. He’d focused solely on Romain, the ideal target for all his current frustrations. Now that the excitement had dissipated, he felt only guilt.
“Anyway, Dad, this story is over with. I’ve decided to forget about Élise. Romain can have her!”
The cut on his cheek was seeping blood, and he took a handkerchief and pressed it against the side of his face. A girl had given it to him before he left the party. He couldn’t remember her name and she wasn’t in any of his classes. Still he knew her, having seen her in the hallways hundreds of times. She seemed nice, and had these very unusual gray eyes. The handkerchief smelled of perfume, and he took a look at it. It actually wasn’t a handkerchief, but a small silk scarf. He decided he was going to save it after cleaning it. Maybe he could give it back to her one of these days? Richard had to know her and it would be easy to get her phone number.
Louis ‘s scattered driving betrayed his mental disarray. He probably was thinking about what he was going to say to Francine. A few blocks from their house he let go a heavy sigh, and Frédéric put a hand on his forearm.
“Please don’t be too mad at me, Dad.”
“It’s not that I’m mad, Fred. It’s just that... I really could see myself living with Francine one of these days, and now it’s compromised.”
A bit earlier in the evening, when they’d wound up in his bedroom, Louis and Francine had even talked about the possibility that she come live with him in a few months if Romain accepted the situation and Frédéric calmed down. She didn’t say no, but was on the fence. She didn’t completely buy the idea, but certainly wasn’t hostile to it either.
The front gate was still open, which meant that power hadn’t returned.
“Your cut doesn’t look too bad to me,” Louis said, “but we’ll see how things are tomorrow morning. Make sure you disinfect it before going to bed, okay? And toss your shirt in the garbage.”
When they stepped out of the car, Louis cast a glance at the house’s façade. No candlelight in any of the windows. If Francine had fallen asleep, he’d be careful not to wake her up, and he’d go take refuge in his music room. A beautiful night for composing, heavy and menacing.
“I left a flashlight on the entrance table for you,” he told Frédéric.
The ground was filled with rainwater and the air around them was sticky. On their left, at the back of the yard, an owl hooted. Frédéric and Louis stopped in their tracks, listening to the haunting sound.
“Do you think it’s going to storm again tonight?” Frédéric asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised, with that air.”
Years before, Louis had organized camping trips where the entire family, except for Grégoire, slept under a huge tent bought at the army surplus. He and Alix also liked to sleep in a tent in the backyard when they were kids. Time was going by so fast.
“Let’s go inside,” Louis sighed. “I’m thirsty. Aren’t you?”
In the dark, he couldn’t see the emotion on his son’s face as he grabbed him by the shoulders and guided him gently toward the house.
* * *
Antoine was seething. Francine’s visit had thrown him because she never came to the house since Romain got his moped. He was busy gardening when she parked on the curb. As he watched her at the fence he had a strange feeling of deja vu. When she lived here with him, Francine had that same graceful way of opening the door.
After giving him a kiss on the cheek—distant as always—she launched into an explanation that he found confusing. Romain had a fight with another boy, at one of those idiotic parties that teenagers loved so much,. He wound up with a black eye and a split lip, nothing too serious, according to Francine.
“Of course!” Antoine shouted, eyes raised to the sky. “Alcohol, pot, loud music, and violence. That’s what they call having fun, and you, you’re giving him your blessing. A black eye and a split lip—nothing too serious...”
“School is over, Antoine, he has the right to go out. A fight, at his age, it’s not such a big deal.”
“Right. That’s until he winds up spending the night in a prison cell. And who was the other kid? Did he have a good reason? Does he even remember what happened?”
She’d come ready for this conversation. She knew he was going to ask all kinds of questions, and accuse her of negligence. Romain had suggested they tell him nothing about the scrap, but she’d refused. Lying to his father in order to protect her was unacceptable. Better to stick to the truth.
“The other kid was Louis’s son.”
“Which Louis? Oh, Louis Neuville, your boyfriend...”
Antoine was leaning against his rake, glaring at his ex-wife.
“What’s this all about?” he asked. “What happened?”
“His son, Frédéric, who was one of my students this year, got in fight with Romain because of a girl. That’s all I know, and there’s no use making a federal case out of it.”
“R
eally? How many high school boys are enemies because of a cute girl? Hundreds! Fortunately, they don’t all get into fist fights about it.”
She knew what he was going to say in advance, almost verbatim. He always loved to give lectures, to preach, and this was the perfect occasion.
“A girl or something else,” he continued, “I suppose that they were just looking for a reason. That my son doesn’t get along with the son of your lover doesn’t surprise me one bit! At their age, they’re always competing over one thing or another, you know that as well as I do.”
He was sweating in the sun. He bent down to pick up a white cotton cap in the wheelbarrow filled with gardening tools. She noticed that he’d done a good job in the garden these past few months.
“And so the boys are trading punches,” he said. “What did you expect, my poor dear? To move in with that guy and force Romain to follow you there? A makeshift family living in absolute bliss—what a joke!”
Antoine let out a nasty laugh. But Francine remained calm. Nothing Antoine could say to her was worse than what she was thinking . A future with Louis couldn’t be considered at this point, as painful as it was to accept. When she woke up that very morning, birds were singing in the yard, and a ray of sun pierced the room through the drapes. Alone in the big bed, she fell in and out of sleep, convinced that Louis was already sitting at his piano. Then she showered, the bathroom window wide open, before going back to bed to laze around for awhile. She loved this room, as she loved all the other rooms there. She’d never lived in a house with so much space, so much comfort. Everything about it pleased her, the long hallways, the three staircases, the landings furnished like miniature boudoirs, the countless windows that let the sun shine on every little nook and cranny, even the general untidiness of the place. A house filled with life, huge and yet cozy, the opposite of everything she’d known until now. When Louis appeared in the room carrying a breakfast tray, she’d felt deeply happy. That was until he told her what happened between Romain and Frédéric. Nothing beyond repair, perhaps, but still a serious hindrance to the beautiful scenario she was imagining. Five minutes later she was dressed and rushed home. When she saw Romain’s face, she immediately thought that the best thing for her to do was to go see Antoine.
The Man of Their Lives Page 23