The adrenaline had been replaced by absolute fatigue. Louis declared, a bit hesitantly, “You behaved... admirably. I don’t know what else to say to you, buddy, except that I wish I’d been there with you. I am very, very proud of you.”
The waiter set a basket of croissants and two mugs of coffee in front of them.
“You know,” Frédéric said, his mouth full, “the cops aren’t so bad after all... I was so glad to see them! Two minutes later and I wouldn’t be here to tell you about it.”
Louis reached across the table and touched his son’s hair, then he looked at his jeans, which were slashed all along the thigh. The blade had only grazed the skin, no less than a miracle. He looked away, trying to calm down. Even now, he felt a horrible, almost unbearable anguish.
“So,” he said, “tell me what happened exactly.”
Frédéric grabbed another croissant and waved it at his father.
“Don’t turn me into some hero,” he said, “please! I followed Damien because... well, I’m not sure why I did it. I think it’s impossible to do nothing when people are in trouble. Anyway, I couldn’t do nothing. I knew all those guys, and they were getting clobbered... And Romain, that was awful. Those three guys, they took him to the alley so they could massacre him. Something had to be done... I swear, the way they were beating him up, the sound of the hits, it made me want to vomit...”
Frédéric hesitated, then finished his croissant. A hand dangling above the basket, he was lost in thought, expressionless, still traumatized by what he’d experienced.
“Go on,” his father said, calmly.
“That knife, it scared me to death. My fencing skills helped me dodge the blade! I would’ve killed that guy if I had a weapon. That’s all I could think about... It wasn’t a survival instinct, it was an urge to kill... Now I understand how it can go from bad to worse. It’s like I lost control of myself. It wasn’t fear anymore—it was rage.”
Frédéric remembered those few minutes clear as crystal . Still, when it happened, things had blurred. Frédéric shook his head, as though the violent images were to much to bear. He reached for a third croissant. Louis watched him silently, completely overwhelmed.
“Did you know it was Romain?” he finally asked.
“Yes. Élise saw them drag him to the alley. Damien, too.”
“Why did they target him specifically?”
“From what I heard, Romain confronted them when they went onstage and started smashing the instruments. The guitar, the synthesizer, drum set, the sound equipment, they broke everything and Romain went crazy. Lucky for him, they didn’t go for their knives at that point.”
Louis sat back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh.
“You’re not eating, Dad?” Frédéric said.
“No. I’m not hungry.”
Looking at his son was enough for him right now. Looking at him eating, breathing, alive and well.
“How did you manage to get there so quickly?” the young man asked.
“Coincidence. Alix wasn’t far from the fight and she talked to some girls who were there. She thought that Romain was involved, but when she heard your name, she panicked. She called me on my cell. Tom and I were in town at that point.”
Frédéric finished his coffee and took a cigarette from his father’s pack. He wished he could stop thinking about the scene. He stood over Romain before the EMT team arrived and saw him vomit gushes of blood, curled up on the pavement in spasms. He couldn’t make those nightmarish images disappear.
“Are you going back to the hospital?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes, of course.”
“Me too, then. I heard that Richard has a broken jaw.”
“I’d rather take you home. So you can change and relax a bit.”
“Please, Dad...”
Louis couldn’t say no, even if he’d prefer to see his son in bed, safe. Frédéric was no longer a little boy. He’d demonstrated that yesterday.
* * *
Francine had to sit down because of her wobbly legs. The doctor looked her over to make sure she wasn’t going to faint. He then repeated the same reassuring words.
“Would you like a glass of water?” Antoine said sympathetically.
Both were united in relief. Until then, they’d done nothing but argue.
For Antoine, what had happened was the logical consequence of “that fucking, stupid music.” Called in the middle of the night, he’d been so panicked that he needed to vent. He was cursing and looking for a scapegoat. Horribly stressed, Francine defended Romain with all her might, protecting his music, his passion. A nurse had to come over to tell them to keep quiet.
A few hours later, as the sun was rising, they finally received reassuring news. The internal bleeding was under control and no vital organs had been damaged. Their son came to just before going to the operating room and they were able to kiss him. Now, they were allowed to spend a few minutes with him in the recovery room.
“Okay,” Antoine said, helping Francine to her feet. “Let’s go.”
The physician led them down the length of hallway before stopping in front of a door.
“Don’t stay long and don’t make him talk,” the physician told them.
Francine and Antoine entered together and then hesitated. Above the sheets, Romain’s face was discolored, unrecognizable. He was hooked to an IV line and an EKG machine. Francine went over to him first, her smile tight. She reached out but didn’t know where to touch him. Clumsily she kissed him softly on the temple.
“Don’t say a word,” she whispered. “We’re here to tell you that we love you, that you’re going to be fine, that it’s all over.”
“Mom,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“No, not a word, please...”
She knew he had broken ribs, bruises, and stitches here and there on his body. He was going to be in pain after the anesthesia subsided. But that was secondary; he was alive.
“Let me tell you,” Antoine said from the other side of the bed. “If I find the bastard that did this to you, I’m going to kill him!”
Francine stared at him, stunned. Antoine was a pacifist. He’d always been against treating violence with violence. Now he was turning his back on all his cherished beliefs because his son had been the victim of an attack.
Romain tried to to sit up, and moaned with pain. His eyes filled with tears, and his mother almost started to cry, too.
“Stay put, baby, please. They’re going to give you some painkillers... The doctor told us not to stay long, so we’ll go now. We’ll be back this afternoon, okay? Please don’t worry. Your friends are all doing fine, and you’ll be yourself in a few days.”
Helpless, Romain tried but failed to crack a smile. He fell asleep while his parents stood motionless by the bed. A nurse with a cart forced them to move aside, and then leave. Francine had managed to stop her chin from trembling. Antoine seemed calm, though pale. They both headed for the elevator silently, unsettled by what they’d just gone through.
When the elevator doors opened on ground level, the first person they saw was Louis. Hands buried in his black jeans, he was leaning against a pillar. He wasn’t allowed to go up to Romain’s room. Antoine was the one that needed to be there, not him. As soon as he saw them step off the elevator, Louis looked at Francine and Antoine both, before going over to them.
“So?” he asked in a tense voice. “How is he?”
Unable to restrain himself any longer, he put a hand on Francine’s shoulder. He wanted to be there for her, to let her know how much he loved her. Even Antoine’s presence didn’t prevent him from touching her.
“The doctors think he’s going to make it through this unscathed,” she simply said.
She could tell how upset he was. He must’ve been going crazy with worry all night long and through the morning. She felt his body relax, and he put his arm around her. Antoine turned away to look at a group of kids involved in an animated conversation. No longer paying attention to
Francine, he shuffled over to them.
“You’re Damien, right?” he said to the boy he’d seen onstage with Romain, playing the synthesizer.
The teenager was wearing hospital pajamas and his left arm was wrapped in bandages from wrist to elbow and in a sling. Beside him was a boy with brown hair and dark circles under his eyes. His jeans were shredded.
“And you’re Frédéric Neuville?” Antoine added.
Without realizing it, he’d adopted the professorial tone he’d used with students for years. He caught himself and lowered his voice, saying , “I’m Romain’s dad, and I want to thank you both. You guys really have... I mean, you guys are great.”
He shook the boys’ hands emphatically. When he took a step back he bumped into Francine, who was just behind him. His eyes met Louis’s and he almost said something, but instead he headed for the hospital exit.
“What’s the latest with Richard?” Francine asked.
“He’s in a room upstairs,” Frédéric said. “His face is all swollen and he drinks with a straw! He tried to come up with a quote for the occasion, but we couldn’t understand a word he said.”
Silent and intimidated, Nadège and Élise were standing beside him. Francine turned to Élise and said, “Visitors aren’t allowed for now, but as soon as they are, I’ll let you know. Okay?”
The girl nodded gravely, looking grateful. She was the one that Romain would want to see the most when he got better, Francine was aware of that. Her son wasn’t a baby anymore. He was man and he was in love—she shouldn’t deny it or try to isolate him. The only thing she could do was take care of him as long as he was suffering,and then she’d have no choice but to step aside.
“Frédéric,” she said, “can I talk to you for a minute?”
She looked at Louis, who let go of her. She led Frédéric over to a nearby vending machine.
“Are you thirsty?” she asked.
“No, thanks.”
“Let’s go out for a smoke, then.”
He followed her outside, perplexed, and they reached a low wall on which she sat. There, he gave her a cigarette and a light, watched her take a long drag, and waited until she was ready to speak.
“I owe you big,” she began, her eyes set on his.
“No, not at all...”
“Oh, yes. I don’t know if those maniacs wanted to kill Romain, but they would’ve. They damaged his spleen, but it could’ve been his liver. And then...”
With his head low, he listened to her, cringing. It brought back images from the day before that he was trying hard to erase.
“I saw Damien last night in the emergency ward,” Francine continued, “while they were stitching up his arm. I thanked him as best as I could, but words aren’t enough sometimes, you know? But at least I know why he went after those thugs. He was acted in self-defense. Roman and Richard all tried to protect each other. That makes sense. It doesn’t take anything away from them, from their courage...”
“Especially since Damien isn’t exactly built like a wrestler!” Frédéric said with a grin.
She wanted to smile back at him, but couldn’t really do it.
“But you,” she said. “I know that you hate him. You had no reason doing what you did.”
Frédéric seemed embarrassed, but that didn’t make her stop.
“You could’ve just called the police, tried to gather more people...”
“I didn’t think about anything. I followed Damien, that’s all. He’s the brave one.”
He had that same stubborn air he had in class when he was acting up. The dark looks of his father, too.
“Damien and you ,” she said in a soft voice. “It’s because of you two that my son didn’t wind up disabled or in the morgue. You have no idea what that means to me! And now I have a big problem.”
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t get what she was talking about. She said, very calmly, “I know I’m complicating your life. You’ve been pretty... upset since I’ve come between you and your father. I don’t want to be the witch that you hate every morning, the one that makes you run away to your grandfather’s, the one who’s trying to take your mother’s place. It was hard enough before, but since yesterday I don’t think it’s possible anymore to...”
Frédéric didn’t know how to read into this exactly, but he sensed the danger and decided to interrupt her.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said, very quickly. “Dad would go crazy if he heard this! I’m not three years old, you know, and things aren’t as complicated as you think. You don’t owe me anything, nor I you.”
A bit stunned, Francine hesitated., She saw Louis walk out of the hospital. He paused at the top of the stairs, then came slowly down in their direction in order to give them time to finish their talk. Two women who’d just passed him turned around and traded a wink. In spite of the fact that he looked tired and had two days of stubble, Francine thought he was incredibly attractive.
“Am I interrupting something important?” he said with that one and only smile of his.
“No, no!” his son said, emphatically.
“Okay, then,” Louis said. “I’m taking you home.”
Francine crushed her cigarette butt with her foot. Frédéric felt like hugging her, the idea of leaving her here alone outside the hospital was unpleasant for him.
“Are you coming with us?” he asked, spontaneously.
CHAPTER 14
Louis leaned toward Alix and whispered, “This is one of his most inspired arias…”
With a wink Alix let him know she’d heard him. He sat back in his seat, once again very attentive. Though he knew it by heart, the last act of La Bohème always sent shivers down his spine. The infinite despair of the cellos, the dark overtones, the descending diatonic scale, the heartbreaking melody. The soprano’s performance was adequate, lost in the baroque décor that failed to evoke Mimì’s garret.
With his head lowered to avoid the Opéra-Comique stage, Louis savored every detail of Puccini’s music--the sound of every instrument. He barely noticed that the conductor was off the ideal tempo before the first exploding notes of the brass section pinned the audience to its seat.
Everybody jumped to their feet at the end of the performance. Louis thought that the ovation was a bit excessive, but he joined in all the same.
“I know of no other composer as talented as Puccini when it comes to emotions!” he said to Alix. “It’s sophisticated, complex, and yet it goes right for the heart!”
“I knew you’d be happy.”
Alix had kept the concert a surprise until the very last minute. She’d only told Louis to meet her at the Café de la Paix at seven, and to dress formally. He’d arrived a few minutes late, wearing a dark blue suit, his tie stuffed in his breast pocket. He had been annoyed at the idea of suffering through some obligatory social gathering.
“That was so sweet of you, Alix,” he said. “This was a wonderful evening.”
Relaxed, smiling, he took Alix by the arm to guide her to the concert hall’s exit.
“You see, that half tone shift is pure genius. He goes from C major to C sharp minor. He did the same with Tosca, in E, and…”
“Louis,” Alix said, “I don’t get a word you say. I wish you wouldn’t break down the music this way. I love it without asking myself questions. Just tell me how the conductor was, in simple terms, if possible.”
“He was rushing a bit. Couldn’t wait to go to bed.”
She laughed and then stopped at the top of the hall’s monumental flight of stairs.
“Do you have time to buy me a drink somewhere?” she asked.
“Anything you want! I’m on cloud nine right now. And also sick with envy. That Puccini…”
Moved, Alix watched her brother while he lit a cigarette. She thought he was gorgeous and that he was aging well. Better than her, truth be told…
“Francine must be waiting for you?” she enquired, prudently.
“No. She’s sleeping
by now. At least, I hope.”
Of course he didn’t add that he wished she were here. He was going to introduce Francine to opera sooner or later. Tonight, he’d been tricked by his sister and he could only accept it and enjoy himself. During intermission, she’d dragged him to the bar to introduce him to a bunch of people. He’d shaken their hands and forgotten their names immediately. A perpetual socialite, Alix was doing her thing as an agent brilliantly. She was giving Louis a hard time because of his indifference, and shamelessly presenting him as the best talent at her agency. He was used to that by now.
On the Boulevard des Italiens, they found a brasserie where Alix ordered mussels and champagne.
“I think I’m going to follow you to Notre-Dame-de-la-Mer,” she said. “A night in the country will do me a lot of good. Is everybody still over there?”
“Yes. The entire family. They’re staying on for Bastille Day.”
“Good thing you’re so hospitable.
That was a loaded comment, he realized right away. Without asking the question directly, Alix was trying to find out whether Francine, who was more and more present in Louis’s life, was going to change the Neuville family customs.
“You know that you’re all always welcome” Louis said, carefully.
“You’re the one who bought the house,” Alix said. “We’re your guests.”
“Oh yeah?” Louis said, with a trace of irony. “And you’re figuring it out just now?”
“But seriously, Louis. Are you going to marry her?”
“Not in the near future, I won’t. Besides, I’m not certain that’s what she wants.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Alix said, rolling her eyes.
“I know what you’re going to say, so don’t even bother. You’re convinced that I’m a catch for any woman. Women want me for my money, house, or car. It’s not very flattering, you know…”
Upset by Louis tone, she glared at him and said, “I never said it was only because of that. You’re talented and good-looking. But the rest does exist, you can’t deny it.”
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