I’d been hanging around for an hour. I could see Felix coming towards me, and I thought how much he’d changed. He walked close to the buildings, wearing a hat, hiding behind his jacket collar. When he was standing in front of me, I saw he had an enormous bandage across his face.
“Don’t say a word,” he said.
I burst out laughing.
“Now I understand why it’s closed.”
“The only thing that got me out of the house was you coming back.”
“Damn, you’re really here.” (He pinched my cheeks.) “It’s crazy, it’s like you never left!”
“I feel very strange, you know.”
I wrapped his arms around me and started to cry.
“Don’t get yourself in such a state over me. It’s just a broken nose.”
“Idiot.”
He crushed me against him and rocked me. I laughed through my tears.
“I can’t breathe.”
“Do you really want to live up there?”
“Yes; it will be perfect.”
“If you want to pretend you’re a penniless student, that’s your problem.”
He helped me carry some of my suitcases. He used his shoulder to push open the door to the building.
“Oh, that really hurts.”
I burst out laughing.
“Shut it!”
He handed me the key when we got to the apartment. I opened the door, went inside and was surprised to find a stack of cardboard boxes.
“What’s all this?”
“It’s what I managed to save when they moved everything out of your apartment. Your parents are real piranhas. I stored everything here until you came back.”
“Thank you.”
I couldn’t stop yawning and Felix couldn’t stop talking. He ordered a pizza, for a change, and we shared it, sitting around a crate we used as a coffee table. He told me in detail how he’d broken his nose, a dismal tale that happened after a drunk night out.
“Listen,” I cut in, “we have all the time in the world, but now, I’m exhausted, and we have to be in good shape for tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Happy People, mean anything to you?”
“You’re not joking; you really want to get back to work?’
All I did was give him a look.
“OK, I got it.”
He stood up. I walked him to the door.
“See you tomorrow morning to go over everything,” I said.
He felt in his pocket and handed me a bunch of keys.
“In case I don’t wake up,” he said, kissing me.
“Good night.”
He looked at me oddly.
“What?”
“Nothing, we’ll talk about it later.”
Ten minutes later, I was in bed, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I’d forgotten how noisy the city was—car horns, sirens, the night owls, lights always on. Mulranny was very far away. And so was Edward.
I went down the hallway to get into the bookstore. The door creaked. It smelled musty. I switched on the lights. Several bulbs needed changing.
Happy People didn’t look good at all. I walked into the room. I thought far back in my memories for the impressions I’d had in the past. Hardly anything was still there. I walked in between the bookshelves; some of them were empty. I ran my hand along the books that were there. I picked one up at random; it was dog-eared and yellowing; the next ones weren’t in much better shape. I went behind the counter. I ran my hand along the bar; it was sticky. I glanced at the dishes; the glasses and cups were chipped. A sheet of paper was taped over one of the beer pumps; it was broken. The accounting books and orders were in a mess on the floor. Only the board with photos on it was clean and in the right place. The coffee machine resisted for a long time before finally spitting out a liquid that vaguely looked like coffee. I leaned against the wall and made a face when I tasted it. Moral of the story: never entrust anything to Felix. To hold my own, to stand on my own two feet, to get better, I was going to revive Happy People.
I was mopping the floor for the third time when my dear colleague deigned to show up.
“Are you reinventing yourself as a cleaner?”
“Yes. And so are you.”
I threw a pair of rubber gloves in his face.
After cleaning for hours, we sat down on the floor. Dozens of garbage bags were piled high on the sidewalk. Unlike us, Happy People smelled fresh and clean.
“Felix, from now on, you’re going to stop pretending to be a librarian.”
“So I can pretend to be a salesman?”
I shook my head.
“And you’d better warn your buddies that they’re going to have to pay for every last drop they drink, even if it’s a glass of water. Understand?”
“You scare me when you’re like this.”
He raised his arms to protect his face. I gave him a little slap and stood up.
“Go out and play now.”
“What are we doing tomorrow?”
“We’ll place orders.”
“Do you need me?”
“Do grow up. Don’t worry, sleeping late in the morning is part of the plan.”
Felix and I were each on one side of the bar. I went through all the accounts with a fine tooth comb while he prepared the orders.
Night had fallen a long time ago.
“Stop! I’ve had it up to here,” he declared.
He stood up, poured us each a glass of wine, and straightened out the accounting books before sitting down on the bar.
“Madam Commander in Chief isn’t going to tell me off?”
“No, I was about to announce we had finished for today.”
He laughed, clinked glassed with me, and got his pack of cigarettes from under the counter. I gave him my darkest look.
“Please, we’re closed; I have the right to have a ciggy. And you won’t resist for long.”
He waved the cigarette under my nose.
“Fine; give me a ciggy.”
I lit it, took a sip of wine, and looked at him.
“Have I changed?”
“Even when Colin and Clara were still here, I never saw you so driven, and what’s really crazy is that you can manage all by yourself.”
“I think that rebuilding my life has to start here at Happy People. We’re lucky to have this place, aren’t we?”
“You’re not planning on becoming a workaholic, are you? Because if you are, then I resign.”
“Given how little you do, that wouldn’t be a great loss.”
“Seriously, how are you?”
“I’m good.”
“Yeees . . . So you’ll go out on a binge with me tonight?”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“You’re not going to lock yourself away in your little café forever.”
“Some day, I promise, I’ll go out and have fun with you.”
“You need to see people, and also, I don’t know . . . maybe it’s time to . . . to meet a nice guy.”
I knew that I’d have to tell him everything at some point.
“I think I met him too soon.”
Felix sighed.
“Colin has been gone for two years.”
“I know.”
“You’re hopeless; you’ll end up an old maid, with cats.”
He shook his head and jumped down from the counter.
“I’m going for a pee.”
“Good for you,” I replied, lighting a cigarette.
Five, four, three, two, one . . .
“Did you meet someone?” he shouted when he came out of the bathroom.
“Your fly’s open . . .”
“Answer me! Who is it? Where is he? Do I know him?”
“Yes.”
“Edward! You got it on with the Irishman. I was sure of it. Well? I want all the juicy details!”
“There’s nothing to tell. I’ll sum up the situation very simply for you. He was very good for me, I hurt him a lot, and I’ve surely lost
him forever. And that’s all there is to tell.”
“You couldn’t hurt a fly, so a guy like that, impossible.”
He came and put his arms around me and crushed me to him, as he always did.
“Come on . . . tell me what happened.”
“Please, I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Why?”
“Because I miss him.”
I curled up even closer in his arms.
“Thank goodness you didn’t bring him back in your suitcase. That would have been really bad. I would have constantly wanted to jump on your guy.”
I cried. From laughing. And from sadness. Felix rocked me in his arms for a long time before I managed to calm down.
Happy People was ready. Me, not so much. I’d hardly slept and was both anxious and excited at the same time. I inspected the place one last time. Everything was sparkling clean: the new dishes were all in place, the beer pump was in perfect working order, the coffee machine produced a brew worthy of the name, the counter was shiny, and the brand new books were nicely arranged and displayed, waiting on their shelves for their readers.
Felix and I had decided to dust off our catalogue, in every way. I’d given him carte blanche because it had been too long since I’d taken any interest in what was happening in the literary world to be up to date. “We have to have some really modern, fun things,” he’d said. “We have customers who like that, you know.” I had no doubt, especially since he was the one who brought those customers in. So he had ordered, among others, some Chuck Palahniuk, Irvine Welsh, and the latest novel of a French author I didn’t know, Laurent Bettoni.
The book was called Earthly Bodies. “You’ll see, it’s as if Sade had written Dangerous Liaisons but in a very modern style,” Felix told me. “It will bring us a little whiff of scandal that will be really nice.” I’d smiled. After two years of lethargy, I felt eager for some lust and scandal.
Here we go: the “Open” sign hung on the door. I opened it to listen to the little bell, like in the past, when it made Clara so happy. I closed my eyes and saw her smile. The first customer came in. The day had begun.
Felix arrived around noon carrying an enormous bouquet of roses and freesias, just like the one Colin had brought me all those years before. He handed it to me, somewhat embarrassed, and went to hang his jacket in the coat closet. I found somewhere to put the flowers and went over to him. I stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“He’d be proud of you,” he whispered in my ear.
I spent Sunday getting my apartment in order. I’d been back for two weeks and was still living in the middle of boxes and suitcases. It wasn’t a very big place, but it was just what I needed. I felt safe there and at home. I hung a few pictures of Colin and Clara on the walls, so they’d be with me. My clothes, and only mine, were hung in the closet. I put the books I’d taken to Ireland in the bookcase. And it gave me great pleasure to take out the coffee pot Colin had bought for me. I owed Felix a great deal for having saved it.
Only one suitcase left to empty. I found Edward’s photos inside. Unable to resist, I sat down on the floor to look at them. When I saw the two of us on the glossy paper, I was overcome with memories and doubts once more. I thought about Edward constantly. I was worried about him. I wanted to know how he was, what he was doing, what he’d say if he knew I’d gone back to work. I wanted to know if he was thinking about me. I put the photos away in a box filled with other memories, right at the back of a closet. I sighed, turned on some music, and headed for the bathroom. I let the water flow over my body while thinking that the next day, I’d wake up to start a new week at work. I’d manage to get up at seven thirty, I’d get out of bed, dress, and open the bookstore. I’d find the strength to smile at the customers and talk to them. I’d make it work; I had no choice.
The sun shone through the curtains in my bedroom, which was going to help me accomplish my goal for the day. I’d been here a month and didn’t want to go backwards. I took my time getting ready. I opened the window and sat in front of it to drink my coffee and smoke my first cigarette.
Like every morning, I went into the bookstore through the back door. But today, I put a sign in the window to announce we’d be opening late. I was running on automatic pilot.
I went to the florist and came out carrying an armful of white roses. Flushed, I wandered along the paths. Though I knew the way.
I took a deep breath and stood up tall once I got to their grave. It was as well cared for as ever. I pulled a few dying petals off of the tombstone and arranged my flowers in a vase. I crouched down to their level. I ran my fingers over their names.
“Hi! I’ve come back . . . my darlings . . . I missed you . . . Ireland was good, but it would have been better with you both there. Clara, my love, if you only knew . . . I rolled around in the sand with a big dog, bigger than you’d ever seen; you could have climbed on his back and given him lots of hugs . . . I’m sorry you didn’t have a dog like him . . . Mama loves you . . .”
I wiped a tear that rolled down my cheek.
“Colin . . . my love . . . I love you too much. When will I finally be ready to let you go? I was very close, but then, you saw what happened . . . I think you’d like Edward . . . What am I saying? I’m the one who has to like him, aren’t I?”
I looked around, seeing nothing. I wiped away my tears. Then I looked at their gravestone again and leaned my head to one side.
“I love you both so much . . . But I have to go; Felix is waiting for me.”
I’d just arrived in front of my literary café. Felix wasn’t there, naturally. But the sky was still blue. I smiled and closed my eyes. I was capable of enjoying life’s simple pleasures. That was already an accomplishment; that was already better. I touched my wedding ring. One day, I would take it off. For Edward, perhaps. I heard the telephone ringing. Time to get to work. Before going inside, I glanced at the sign.
Happy people . . .
Acknowledgments
My thanks to:
Laurent Bettoni, author, educator, and trail blazer. Thank you for having believed more than I did, for pushing me to my limits, with your wisdom and without concessions. Thanks to you, I know what kind of author I want to be.
My first readers, from the beginning. You were the starting point of the adventure called Happy People . . . since December 2012.
To Editions Michel Lafon and Florian Lafani. Thanks for having gone off the beaten track and respecting my journey and my freedom.
1
How could I have given in to Felix yet again? I don’t know how he miraculously always manages to win me over: he finds a logical argument or some other way to encourage me to go out on a date. And I let myself be tricked into it every time, thinking that maybe something might happen to make me change my mind. But I know Felix as if he were my own flesh and blood, and our tastes are completely opposite. So whenever he chose anything for me, he was completely and utterly wrong. I should have known that, we’d been friends for so long. But here I was, for the sixth Saturday night in a row, spending time in the company of a complete imbecile.
The week before, I’d been treated to someone who championed organic food and healthy living. You would have thought that Felix had totally forgotten the vices of his best friend. I’d spent the entire evening getting lectured about smoking, alcohol, and my terrible eating habits. That upper-class health freak in thongs had told me quite calmly that my lifestyle was disastrous, that I’d end up sterile, and that I was unconsciously causing my own demise. Felix must have forgotten to give him the technical specs of his potential girlfriend. Giving him my biggest smile, I told him that I actually knew a great deal about death and the temptation of suicide. Then I left.
The idiot of the day was a different type: rather good-looking, a respectable background, and not prone to lecturing. His flaw—a rather large one—was that he seemed convinced he could get me into bed by telling me tales of his adventures in the company of his mistress, otherwi
se known as his camera, the GoPro: “This summer, my GoPro and I slid down an icy mountain torrent . . . Last winter, my GoPro and I went skiing . . . You know, the other day, I tried the metro with my GoPro,” etc. It lasted more than an hour; he was incapable of saying a single sentence without mentioning it. I was at the point of wondering whether if he took it to the bathroom with him.
“Do I go where with my GoPro? I don’t think I understand,” he suddenly stopped and asked.
Oh, dear . . . I’d been thinking out loud. I was sick and tired of being seen as the evil woman who was incapable of showing any interest in what she was being told and wondering what she was doing there. Nevertheless, I decided to rip off the Band-Aid all at once.
“Listen, you’re certainly a very nice guy but you’re too much in love with your camera for me to come between you. I’ll pass on dessert. And I’ll have coffee at home.”
“What’s the problem?”
I stood up; so did he. I gave him a little goodbye wave and headed for the cash register; I hadn’t become so unsociable that I would stick him with the bill for our fiasco. I glanced at him one last time and stifled the urge to burst out laughing. I was the one who should have had my GoPro to capture the look on his face. Poor guy . . .
The next day, my telephone woke me up. Who was daring to disturb my sacrosanct late sleep-in on Sunday morning? As if I needed to ask!
“Yes, Felix,” I groaned into the phone.
“And the winner is?”
“Oh, do shut up.”
His chuckling got on my nerves.
“I’ll expect you in an hour,” he managed to say, “you know where.” Then he hung up.
I stretched out in my bed like a cat before looking at my alarm clock: 12:45. It could have been worse. Though I had no difficulty getting up during the week to open my book café, Happy People Read and Drink Coffee, I did need to sleep very late on Sundays to recuperate, to clear my head. Sleeping remained my last indulgence; after being the refuge of my deepest sorrows, sleep now helped me through my little problems. Once I got up, I was happy to see that it was going to be a beautiful day: springtime in Paris had come to greet me.
Happy People Read and Drink Coffee Page 14