The Frenchman's Slow Seduction

by Flora Lanoux

  “Holy shit, Sammy,” she says. “You’re the Michelangelo of hair.” She runs her fingers through my hair. “You look awesome, Rach.”

  Seeing Sammy’s shy smile, I realize just how much Michelle’s opinion matters to him.

  A half hour later, Michelle’s transformation is complete. She looks like a movie star. Even Sammy admits he’s outdone himself.

  Inspired, we apply our imagination to clothes shopping and have a blast. When we finally get to Michelle’s place, we imbibe a bottle of her favorite wine and bask in our post-shopping, post-hairdresser success. Too tired and too woozy to go to my place, I spend the night at Michelle’s.

  In the morning, our sense of euphoria is still with us, despite us each having a Saturday morning shift.

  When I get to the clinic, I’m surprised to see Shane’s truck. He’s never been the first to arrive. Walking past the back office, I see him half asleep on an old chair. Blinking heavily and rubbing his face, he tries hard to come to life. Several minutes later, he gravitates towards the coffee I’ve brewed in the lunchroom, and we pass each other in the hallway.

  “Foxy haircut, Rach. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

  I laugh, unsure whether I’ve been given a compliment.

  Soon, the others arrive, and we get on with the day.

  It’s another crazy Saturday, but we manage to finish around noon. Mike is busy with surgery when I leave, so I don’t say goodbye to him. When I leave the clinic, it’s as a bird escaping a cage.

  After doing groceries, I go straight home, having decided on a lazy afternoon since I’ll be going out with Bryan later on.

  At seven thirty, having eaten, showered, and changed, I decide to kill some time at Myra’s place. Bryan is due to pick me up in half an hour.

  “Someone’s in love,” Myra says, when she opens her door.

  “You’ve got it wrong, Myra. Things are on hold with Mike and me.”

  She gives me a surprised look. “Then who is it? Who’s coming over?”

  “Bryan and I are meeting some friends at a pub.”

  “Oh.”

  Restless, I ask Myra if I can look through her photo albums. I love looking at the decor and outfits from her past. When I’m on my third photo album, a knock sounds on her door. Myra goes to answer it.

  “Hi, Myra,” I hear Bryan say. “I’m early to pick up Rachel. Would you know where she is?”

  “She’s here.”

  Moments later, Bryan walks into Myra’s living room -- and looks at me as if for the first time.

  It’s a quiet drive to the pub. When we get there, about a dozen of Bryan’s workmates are sitting with the women from my class. They call over, “Hey, Bryan, what took you so long?” and then wink, nudge, and poke one another. Bryan smiles and waves.

  Putting an arm around me, he says, “I’ll be the designated driver tonight. What’ll you have?”

  “Vodka and orange juice.”

  As we join the group, Sondra calls out, “Hey, Bryan, did you hear about the wallop Rachel gave Mac the other night?”

  He laughs. “No. Tell me about it.”

  “She knocked the wind out of his sails, I can tell you. We figure you guys could use her on the force for protection.” The cadets kill themselves laughing.

  Bryan introduces me to his colleagues and their friends.

  “Any thoughts of joining the force?” Dave asks.

  I shrug. “I’ll tell you when the bruises heal.”

  An hour into the evening, I get up to go to the washroom. When I come out of the stall, Sondra is at one of the sinks.

  “You weren’t real straight with us the other night,” she says.

  “What about?”

  “It looks like Bryan has found the right woman.”

  “Pardon?”

  She gives me a pointed look as if to say Fess up.

  My eyes widen. “Who? Me? You’ve got it wrong. We’re just good friends. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You may have been friends for ages, Rachel, but the way he’s looking at you tonight, it’s gone way past that. He’s crazy about you.”

  I laugh. “Give it up.”

  “Besides, you’ve made a classic mistake. A man and a woman can never just be great friends; men’s brains aren’t equipped for it.” She gives me a smug look. “Now, let’s get back to the troops."

  When one o’clock nears and everyone starts talking about leaving, Sondra calls out, “One last toast.”

  As we clap, shout, and cheer her on, she stands up. Looking over to Bryan and me, she says, “To love, which can be right under our noses, without us even realizing it.”

  Everyone raises their glass and calls out, “Hear! Hear!”

  I could melt.

  Bryan drives me home and walks me to my apartment. “I won’t come in,” he says. “I'm pretty exhausted. I had a great time tonight, Rachel.”

  “You work with a great bunch of people.”

  “That too.”

  I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and turn around to unlock my door.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Just a bit tired.”

  “Rach?”

  It’s a struggle to push the key into the lock. “Yeah?” I say, finally managing to get the door unlocked.

  “Call me tomorrow?”

  I turn to him and smile. “Sure.”

  Inside, I lean on the door. Bryan and me? It would ruin everything. Please, God, let me sleep the sleep of angels tonight so that I can think more clearly in the morning.

  Chapter 13

  After my weekly two-hour housecleaning stint, which I do every Sunday morning, I call Michelle before going over for a visit.

  Leaving the apartment, I notice a broken and bent paper clip outside the door; a smaller piece is still wedged inside the door lock. What in heaven’s name going on? Thank goodness for the pick-proof locks our apartment manager had installed last year after a couple of break-ins.

  When I get to Michelle’s place, she takes me into the living room, and we make ourselves comfortable on her sofa.

  “Bryan still doing the right thing by you?” she asks, and my heart instantly reacts.

  “What?” I ask, wondering what the heck is the matter with me.

  “Is he still helping you out with all that self-defence stuff?”

  “Oh, yeah. He helps a lot. He brings me Tylenol.”

  She laughs. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

  I teach her some moves, and she throws herself into it.

  “Wow, this stuff’s great,” she says. “I might take a course myself.”

  “You should. It’s really empowering.”

  She goes to the kitchen to get us each a glass of juice. Relaxing into the sofa, she says, “So why are you really here?”

  I shrug. “No reason. Just felt like coming over.”

  She arches an eyebrow. “I’m touched, but I think there’s more to it than that.”

  I flop back onto the sofa. “We’ll always be friends, won’t we, Mich?”

  She gives me a worried look. “Of course. Come on, Rach, what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. I’ve just been thinking about things. Liz and Verna told me that I should think hard about what I’m doing in life, that I should direct my fate instead of just reacting to circumstances. I guess I’ve been mulling over what they said.” It seems impossible to tell her what’s really worrying me.

  “Me too,” she says. “I can’t work for the bastard forever.”

  The phone rings in the kitchen and she goes to answer it. When she gets back, she says, “That was Bryan. He wants to come over too. What a coincidence.” Michelle doesn’t believe in coincidences. “Is everything alright with you guys? Nothing’s happened that I should know about, has it?” She’s fishing.

  I give her a surprised look. “Of course not. Everything’s fine.”

  Keeping her eyes on me, she says, “Bryan’s coming over for dinner at seven. Why
don’t you come over too?”

  “I have to work on the conference talk,” I say, lying.

  Her full attention is now on me. “You have to eat, Rachel. If you don’t come, I’ll think something’s wrong.”

  I laugh. “I can never win with you. I’ll come.”

  Michelle suggests an Italian restaurant for lunch, and I happily agree. After a hearty pasta meal, I actually do go home to work on the conference material.

  That night, when I return to Michelle’s apartment, Bryan is already there, barbecuing on the balcony. For some reason, an energy exists between us now.

  Michelle takes me into the kitchen. “What’s up?” she asks. “You look a little unsteady.”

  I scrunch up my face. “I don’t think things are going to work out with Mike and me. I’ve got to figure out a way to end things.”

  “Whatever you do, do it quick. Stop torturing yourself. You went into that relationship with the best of intentions, but it turned out to be a failed experiment, that’s all. It’s not your fault or his fault, it just didn’t work out. Get over it. He will.” Reaching into the cupboard, she pulls out some plates. “Let’s eat dinner on the balcony.”

  An hour later, as we’re chatting, eating, and drinking, Michelle leans back and takes a deep breath. “Fall’s in the air,” she says.

  Later, as the three of us are sitting indoors in front of the electric fireplace, floating in the warmth of the living room, the phone rings. Michelle gets up to answer it.

  When Bryan and I are alone, he says, “I was talking to Sergeant McMahon. He tells me he thinks you’re going to be alright: ‘Your Rachel,’ he said, ‘she’ll be able to hold her own.’”

  I laugh. “He’s a great guy.”

  “Do you want me to drive you home tonight?” Bryan asks, having noticed that I’ve drunk too much.

  Why do I feel like I’m about to have a seizure? Unable to come up with a polite way to decline his offer, I say, “Sure. That would be great.”

  Michelle walks back into the living room. “That was the bastard,” she says. “He wanted to straighten out some vacation time for himself.”

  When Bryan gets up to leave, Michelle perks up. “Why don’t you spend the night, Rachel? You can leave from here in the morning.”

  I turn to her. “Sure. Bryan was going to give me a lift home but staying here would be good.”

  I can’t believe how relieved I feel at not having to spend time alone with Bryan. It would be fine if my body would behave, but there’s no hope of that right now. After Bryan leaves, I feel strangely disappointed.

  Chapter 14

  When six thirty rolls around, I wake Michelle up. Since it’s my morning off, I go home to work on conference notes instead of going to the clinic. It’s part of my plan to avoid life as much as possible for the week.

  At nine thirty, I leave for Northcliff. When I walk into Verna’s room, a man quickly gets up from his chair.

  “Hello, dear,” Verna says, standing up. “I’d like you to meet Syd. Syd, this is Rachel, a friend who gives me advice on love.”

  Syd is Verna’s age and has a special look about him: the look of someone who’s happy in life. Smiling, he shakes my hand. “Lovely to meet you, Rachel.” His accent is pure New England. Dressed in a smart light-gray suit with a white shirt and yellow tie, he looks divinely meant to be with Verna. When I see that he’s wearing comfortable walking shoes, I feel glad. An aesthete with a firm footing in reality, he will walk amiably through life with Verna. “Do you advise men as well?” he asks.

  I laugh. “There’d be no sense.”

  “Why not?”

  “The good ones don’t need any help, and the bad ones would just use the information for their own gain.”

  Syd and Cathy look at each other and then at me.

  “You’ve obviously given a lot of thought to matters of the heart,” Syd says.

  “Verna makes a great teacher.”

  His gaze falls on Verna. “I should have known. One of the master’s pupils. My strategy is to wear Verna out with my persistence. No matter how long it takes.”

  Verna shakes her head. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  At the park, Syd and Verna feed the pigeons while I walk among the trees. I can’t hear what Syd is saying to Verna, but Verna spends a lot of time either smiling or laughing. At one point, Syd faces her, takes her hand, and kisses it.

  On our way back to the manor, Syd stops at the parking lot. “This is where I take my leave,” he says, shaking my hand. “The next time I see you, young lady, I’m going to work on making you smile.”

  I laugh. “I think I’ll have to work on that myself.”

  “Well stated. I’ve enjoyed our meeting.”

  As he drives away in his light blue Impala, I turn to Verna and say, “If you don’t marry him, I will.”

  She gives a soft laugh. “I’m seriously considering it,” she says. “I guess you’ll be off now, too.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  She frowns. “One should never be afraid, Rachel.”

  Driving away from the manor, I’m overcome by a sudden, frightening emptiness. “It’s okay,” I tell myself. “Everything is perfectly okay.” My life seems to hang on those words. Deciding that what I need is a quiet place to sit where no one will bother me, I drive to a nearby woodlot.

  Going down one narrow dirt road after another, I admire the birds, the greenery -- the primitiveness. Next to a boggy area with a beaver dam, I park the car. Leaning back in my seat, I let out a slow breath and lift my face to the sun. What’s wrong with me? Why did I drive here? Just as I’m thinking about how desperate I’ve become, the feeling of warmth on my face intensifies, and fleetingly I feel a connection to some greater force. The experience puts me in mind of a book I read years ago. During my first year at university, I sought the meaning of life between the covers of a five dollar paperback called Reclaim your Soul, Reclaim your Body.

  “All that is required to make contact with your spirit guide is a receptive mind,” it read. “Find a quiet place to meditate, state your desire, open your brain to the possibility, and await your communication.

  “Your spirit guide -- guardian angel, positive energy source, soul teacher -- has many physical shapes or energy forms to choose from to communicate with you, and all are equally wonderful. Some choose light, while others choose shadows or a human form. Just relax and dream. Listen to the messages transmitted through your soul. The experience has to do with the listener, the envisioner, not what is being envisioned or heard. You are, after all, listening to your own soul.”

  Closing my eyes, I try to relax. Suddenly, the wind picks up, gently buffeting the car. Breathing deeply, I inhale warm, earthy smells, and begin to feel groggy, muzzy-headed, lighter. A vision floats through my mind. I’m in a forest, sometime in the past. I’m a small Native American girl of about six. My name is Sarah. When I look up, my true father, my guardian angel, extends his hand. I take it and smile. His name is Nathaniel. We walk through the woods and down to a river where we sit on a rock and put our feet in the water. “The water is part of you,” he says. “When it washes over you, it will cleanse your soul. Whenever you feel you are lost in spirit, go to the water and you will find me there.” I look up at him. “You’re not going to leave me, are you, Father?” He smiles. “One day, my physical body will leave this life, but my spirit will still wander. If you need me, you have simply to call my name. I will always be here for you. We are bonded.” Looking at him, I say, “But I don’t want you to go.” He nods. “I know, but we cannot change the laws of the universe; they are there for a reason.” I hold on tightly to his hand as we look out at the river, and a wave of relaxation washes over me.

  Opening my eyes, I’m startled to see a doe run in front of my car. Stopping in front of the hood, she faces me, and for moments we look at one another. Then she bounds away. After she’s gone, I find myself wondering if what I saw and felt was real -- but then decide that it doesn’t really
matter. I’m thankful for whatever happened.

  On my way to the clinic, I stop off at a bakery for a kaiser roll and a bottle of spring water. I don’t remember the last time food tasted so good.

  Anxious to avoid as much human interaction as possible, I time my arrival at the clinic for exactly one o’clock and walk in through the back door. Tim is in the kennel room rehydrating a sick cat. Moments later, Mike appears at the doorway.

  “Hi, Rachel. Do you want to come to the front office to go over this afternoon’s schedule?”

  When I join him, he briefs me on the morning’s activities, and we divide the afternoon jobs. As I’m leaving, he says, “Are we still on for the dinner at my place on Friday?”

  “Of course,” I tell him.

  “How’s it going, Rachel?”

  I shrug. “It’s going to be a rough week.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m taking the week to analyse my life and to make choices about where I’m headed.”

  “Just a week?” he says. He has such a nice smile.

  “It’s a start.”

  “I miss being with you, Rachel.”

  “I know.”

  The day is busy and five o’clock comes mercifully quickly. Not wanting to go home, I go out to dinner and then to the library. When I finally get back to my apartment, there are three messages on the answering machine. I waver between erasing or listening to them.

  The first one is from Reynaldo. “Hi, Rachel. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Talk to you soon.” Not if I can help it.

  The next one is from Mike. “Hi, Rachel. Just wondering how you’re doing. Call me if you’re up to it.” I’m not.

  My heart reacts when I listen to the last message. “Hi, Rach. It’s Bryan. Give me a call when you get the chance. I was just thinking about you and wanted to talk.” I don’t call him.

  Erasing the messages, I remember something my mother said: “There’s a period of time we all go through as women when we’re at the height of everything: our beauty, our intelligence, our wit, and our energy. It’s a very nubile phase, and men will come in droves when they see you in this phase. Don’t be overwhelmed, Rachel, and don’t make the mistake of being flattered and settling for the first one. And there’s another thing. Don’t stay with a man because he’s nice and because he wants you. Make sure you want him. Make sure you desire him.”