“Dad!” Lena interrupted. “You’re in love.”
“I am? I guess I am.” He chuckled. “Anyhow, she’s accepted my proposal to become my wife and your stepmother, which is very brave of her.”
“We don’t bite,” Lena said.
“No. But as you’re too young and I’m too old to share her taste in music, clothes and movies, she’s in for a rough ride.” Then his voice became serious. “Lena, darling, can you promise me to be nice to Anna?”
“Of course I will, Dad!” Lena was about to add that she hoped Anna would be nice to him, but she bit her tongue. Somehow, it felt unfair to spoil his moment of joy by alluding to the past. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“Me too, pumpkin, I can’t wait to introduce her to you. How about we visit you in Paris sometime soon? I’m sure we can find a weekend in the next few weeks when both Anna and I are free.”
Lena frowned at his obvious assumption that she was free every weekend, before reminding herself that, as it happened, she was.
“Sure, Dad, come any time you want. Just give me sufficient notice to tidy up my apartment. We can’t have Anna realize what kind of hopeless pig I am before the two of you are married. By the way, when are you getting married?”
“We’re thinking end of December. We’ll probably have really shitty weather for the ceremony, but then we’ll enjoy the honeymoon even more. I’m planning to take Anna to the Caribbean. Remember that hotel in Punta Cana?”
Lena did. But she preferred not to comment.
“I know, I know.” Anton read her mind. “It’s too tacky, too Russian nouveau riche for you. But, I am a Russian nouveau riche, so I have to live up to my image.”
Anton Malakhov was positively happy, in a way Lena couldn’t remember him, even in their best moments together. It was strange to hear him chatter away like this. It was also touching and heartwarming. Lena told him December was a perfect month for a wedding and released him to his fiancée. Her future stepmother . . .
What an idea!
* * *
Lena was on the finish line to her graduation. It was late June and Paris was growing stuffier and stickier by the day. She had no complains, though. This was nothing compared to Moscow’s midsummer hell. The Parisians, however, were beginning to desert the city whenever they got the chance. They went south to the breezy Mediterranean coast or north to the airy beaches of Normandy. As for Lena, she was preparing to go east to Geneva.
She was anxious. Even though her supervisor was happy with her final product, Lena knew she needed to brush up on the theory before the red-letter day. So she studied from dawn to dusk, only breaking for a trip to the bathroom or a glass of water. Her reward was a longer break at dinnertime at La Bohème.
But when Rob didn’t show up at work for the third day in a row, she began to wonder if something was the matter. Was he sick? Had he taken a few days off? Or had he just quit the job, which would mean she may never see him again? It was disconcerting how much that last thought affected her.
Lena shook her head. God, this isn’t happening. I’m not falling for him.
She had known him for such a short time! He was still a stranger, too sure of himself, too charming, too handsome. He was the kind of guy she’d always shunned because nothing good could come of it. Then why was she going to the bistro for dinner every day, hauling along her heavy books, and prolonging her meals with several cups of tea, when she had resolved to stay away from him?
As she pondered this question, staring blankly into her course reader, someone sat down next to her. Lena looked up from her book, her eyes bright, but it wasn’t who she’d expected it to be.
“Lena, I can’t bear seeing you like this anymore. Is it”—Jeanne shut Lena’s tome to read the cover—“semiotics that’s making you so depressed or is there something else?”
“It’s semiotics,” Lena said, which wasn’t entirely untrue. “If they ask me questions on this topic during the exam, I’ll be in big trouble.”
“Why’s that?”
“I just don’t get it. I read and reread the same passages, and I’m still in the dark.” Lena shook her head. “I’ve considered memorizing the main definitions—can’t see what else I can do.”
“There’s nothing wrong with learning things by heart. That’s how most learning was done only a couple of generations ago. And it’s still the case in some disciplines, not to mention religions,” Jeanne said.
Jeanne’s comment reminded Lena of something she’d been meaning to ask for a while. “What’s your field of study, Jeanne? You never talk about it, but . . .”
“In spite of my blue hair, piercings, and the occasional tough talk, I don’t sound like a high school dropout?” Jeanne finished for her.
Lena nodded with a smile. Jeanne was the least touchy person she’d ever met. It was so easy to talk to her.
“I did two years of law in Aix-en-Provence just to prove to my parents and the rest of my family that I could. But I hated it.”
“I’m with you on that.”
“Then I backpacked around the world for a year, which was great. And then I followed my boyfriend to Paris and got this job. Which I rather enjoy, truth be told.” Jeanne took a long swig of her chilled Coke. “So I am, indeed, a dropout, but an extensively traveled and a well-read one.”
“Mystery solved. And what about your boyfriend? Is it the biker I saw you. . . talk to here once?”
Jeanne smirked. “You can say you saw us fight, it’s OK.”
“So, you’ve been with him for what—two, three years?”
“Too long. I know he’s bad for me, Lena. I left him. Five times at least. And every time, I go back when he asks politely.” Jeanne sighed. “I’ll tell you more later.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
Jeanne finished her Coke. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”
“Um . . . nothing comes to mind.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll just tell you like that, without any specific reason at all, that Rob has taken two weeks off for his final exams. Not that you were asking or anything.” Jeanne stood up.
“Oh . . . I did wonder where he’d disappeared to. By the way, I’ll be going to Geneva for my final exam and defense the day after tomorrow.”
“Good luck! When shall we expect you back?”
“Next Thursday, hopefully with the diploma in my suitcase. I’m so much looking forward for all this stress to be over.”
“Hey, I have an idea. Pepe and I made plans to go to Nice for a weekend. Take a dip in the Mediterranean.”
“Can you both take the same weekend off?”
“Pierre hired two temps for the summer, so regular staff can take vacations and days off more easily. We could wait until you’re back from Geneva, if you’d like to join.”
“I’d love to! Thank you so much for inviting me. It would be a great way to unwind.”
“Excellent,” Jeanne said, turning to leave. “I’ll check with Rob if he wants to join in, too.”
Part II
When the Clock
Strikes Midnight
In the dark, the world embarks on a migration:
Trees uproot and roam the Earth—in levitation,
Golden grapes go up in foam—becoming wine,
Stars progress from home to home—to rest in mine.
Rivers turn inside their beds—running deep,
And I’m longing for your chest—to find sleep.
Marina Tsvetaeva
SIX
It was done, accomplished, stamped, and signed on a thick sheet of letterhead paper. Lena had passed her last exam, defended her thesis, and received her master’s degree. Paris was now hers to enjoy, free of guilt. She had a long list of museums to visit, exhibitions to see, neighborhoods to discover, and shows to watch. And she was going to do all that without the nagging feeling that she should be hunched over a textbook instead.
Lena smiled, pleased about the prospect of an exciting summ
er, as her cab approached rue Cadet. She was tired and in need of a relaxing bath, but she wanted to see Jeanne or Pepe first to find out about the weekend plans. Jeanne had texted her earlier in the week that they were to meet at the Gare de Lyon Friday morning at eight. What Jeanne hadn’t told her was whether Rob was coming along.
As Lena walked into the bistro, she spotted Rob and his friends Amanda and Mat having beers at one of the sidewalk tables. She looked around for Jeanne. Her new friend, busy with a group of patrons, waved hi then splayed her fingers to sign “five minutes”.
By now Rob had spotted Lena, too. “Over here! Lena, come join us.” As she came closer, he offered her a chair. “We’re celebrating our graduation.”
“Congratulations!”
“Thanks.” He glanced at his friends and mumbled, “Even if for some of us it’s conditional.”
Lena frowned, unsure of his meaning, but he didn’t offer an explanation. She sat down and signaled to Pepe hovering nearby for a beer.
Rob pushed the bowl of peanuts closer to her. “Jeanne tells me you went to Geneva for your defense. Did it go well?”
“Yes. And now I’m a proud holder of a master’s degree.”
“Cheers to that,” Rob said, raising his beer.
Mat followed suit. “To no more exams, papers, and late-night cramming!”
“To our future and to beach holidays,” Amanda said.
“Speaking of which, I’m going to Nice with Jeanne and Pepe tomorrow,” Lena said, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious.
“So am I,” Rob said and pointed to Amanda and Mat. “And so are these two individuals.”
Amanda smiled politely. “It’s going to be fun.”
“I’m so excited to go on a trip with Jeanne. And without her creepy boyfriend. This is my last opportunity to win her over,” Mat said.
“I hope you succeed. I don’t like her boyfriend at all,” Lena said.
Pepe returned with her beer and said, addressing the girls, “Did you know that topless is all the rage at the French Riviera this season?”
“And why are you telling us this?” Amanda asked.
“No reason. Just thought you may want to know what the latest trends are before you pack . . .” He pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “Hey, do you want to see the hotel I booked?”
Everyone looked at the printout.
“It’s not far from the beach and it’s cheap,” Pepe said with pride. “I thought the ladies would like it better than a youth hostel.”
“There must be a reason why it’s cheap,” Amanda said as she perused the printout and handed it to Rob.
“I don’t really care why it’s cheap. I’m broke, so the cheaper the better.” Rob passed the paper on to Lena.
“It looks cute.” Lena pointed to the photo that showed a sunny rooftop terrace with a few tables set for breakfast and orange trees in terracotta pots interspersed among them.
Mat took the paper and read out loud. “Welcome to Very Nice, a charming family-run hotel only ten minutes’ walk from the city’s historic center and the Promenade des Anglais beach.”
“I booked us three rooms with twin beds. The hotel didn’t have any triple rooms, so one of the ladies will have to share a room with one of the gents,” Pepe said.
“And I got the train tickets, so you each owe me one hundred twenty euros and ninety to Pepe,” Jeanne, who had just arrived with a beer in her hand, said.
“I could room with y—” Mat began.
“Amanda, will you share with me? I promise I don’t snore.” Pepe said, blocking Mat.
Amanda handed Pepe the hotel money. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but I’d rather room with Rob. We hiked for a week in the Jura Mountains last summer, so I know for sure he doesn’t snore, grind his teeth, or sleepwalk.”
The famed Riviera town unfolded before the Parisian bunch with its palm tree-rimmed squares and boulevards, followed by crooked old town streets. Lena decided she liked it. A lot. The hotel was another matter. Upon closer acquaintance, Very Nice turned out to be a flea-bitten hole flirting with the insalubrious whose only nice part was the tiny rooftop terrace. The very same that represented the hotel on its website.
After a few minutes of hesitation, mainly on the part of Amanda and Lena, the group decided to settle in and make the best of it. It was four in the afternoon—the perfect time to go to the beach. Lena and Jeanne were ready within ten minutes. When they came down to the lobby, the boys were already there. Amanda arrived a few minutes later. Her golden hair was braided and pinned above her ears and her camisole barely covered her bikini top. She wore a pair of minishorts that drew attention to her slender tanned legs. Pepe gave a long whistle of appreciation while Mat and Rob emitted wolf calls. She looked smoking hot and very pleased with herself.
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, madam,” Pepe said stepping forward and lifting her hand to his lips. “The name’s Bond. James Bond.”
Amanda flashed her impeccable teeth. “Pleased to meet you, James. I’m Princess Leia. Shall we?” She pointed at the door, and the six of them headed out of the hotel.
As they neared the beach, Lena could smell the salty ocean and hear the soothing sound of the waves. She felt giddy with anticipation of the sea’s comforting embrace and the subsequent sunbathing. Five minutes later, they were all in the water, some of them splashing and screaming their joy and others charging into the open sea, away from the shore, away from the clutter of daily life.
Later, as they basked in the late afternoon sun, Amanda turned to Lena. “Can you hear what I hear?”
“You mean the Russian-speaking group behind us?”
“Yes. And another one to the right. God, they are obnoxious. I have no idea what they’re saying, but they sound like they own this city.”
Lena tried to conceal her discomfort behind a breezy smile. “I apologize for my fellow countrymen’s rustic manners. You could try reminding yourself they are supporting the sluggish French economy.”
“One nil to Lena,” Mat said.
Amanda pretended she didn’t hear that. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. I just wish I could understand what they were saying.”
As it happened, the Russians were being obnoxious, and Lena had no desire to translate their unsavory exchange.
“Ha! I don’t actually need you to translate for me. I can ask Rob. He speaks Dostoyevsky’s language very well,” Amanda said.
“You do?” Lena turned to Rob, unsettled.
If it was true, how come he never told her about it? How come he never let her know that he shared such an important part of her culture? Was it a sign of how little she meant to him?
“Yeah,” Rob said, rubbing his neck. He picked up a small shell and began to fiddle with it. “Didn’t I mention it before?”
“No, you didn’t. Not even when I showed you my translations from Russian.” Lena forced herself to smile. She wanted to add that it wasn’t a big deal, but the lump in her throat was making it difficult to speak.
Thankfully, Amanda jumped in. “Oh yes, you trained in literary translation, didn’t you? Lucky you! You could afford to study anything you fancied, including the most useless stuff, without worrying if you could make a living out of it.”
Lena tried to keep cool. “I don’t think literary translation is useless, except to those who never read.”
“Yes, of course, you are absolutely right,” Amanda said before making a dreamy face. “Oh, I wish I could study astrology.”
Rob cleared his throat, and Jeanne shifted noisily, but Amanda plowed on undeterred. “Or better still, ufology! I could go around interviewing all those wackos who believe they’d been abducted by little green men. Wouldn’t that be a blast?”
“Lena one, Amanda one,” Pepe said, but nobody laughed.
Lena turned away and studied the horizon.
After a few moments, Jeanne broke the awkward silence. “I’m getting hungry and a little cold. So, I don’t know abo
ut you guys, but I’m going to find an eatery away from the beach. The ones around here are just tourist traps.”
“I’ll come with you,” Lena said, her voice barely audible. She stood up, pulled her jeans and T-shirt on, and collected her stuff.
The men did the same.
“Who eats dinner at six?” Amanda muttered, but followed the others nonetheless.
The rest of the evening was a haze. Lena took part in the dinner and the long ramble in the city afterward. She engaged in most conversations.
But she really wasn’t there.
* * *
The gang called it a day around eleven in the evening, most of them declaring they were dead tired. Rob had been hoping to have a word with Lena in private, but she dashed to her room as soon as they entered the hotel.
Once he and Amanda were in their room, Amanda proposed they watch a movie on her laptop.
That was when his old pal Thomas called him back to suggest they meet for a quick drink in the old town. As it happened, his timing was perfect. Rob needed a reason to get out of the hotel, breathe the night air, and distract himself.
He hung up and turned to Amanda. “My buddy wants to meet, so I’ll be heading out—”
“Now?” Amanda glanced at her watch. “It’s soon midnight.”
“I’m a big boy, Mommy. I can take care of myself.”
Amanda pursed her lips and turned to look out the window. “Have fun.”
Rob turned right and took rue Alberti that led straight to the brasserie Thomas had suggested. They hadn’t seen each other after finishing the engineering school two years ago. They hadn’t been particularly close. But right now, Rob was happy he’d remembered Thomas lived in Nice and texted him from the train. Maybe he could drink himself out of his anger and remorse.
He was cross with Amanda for the way she kept taunting Lena all day. He resented being unable to tell Lena why he’d hidden his knowledge of Russian from her.
But above everything, he hated himself for having hurt her. He winced as he remembered the look of distress and incomprehension in her big brown eyes . . . like a wounded Bambi. Had she been wronged by another guy, he’d have taken the a-hole aside and sorted him out in a wink. Rob stopped in his tracks, rapped out a curse, and drove his fist into the wall.
What If It's Love?: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 1) Page 7