“How are things between you two?”
Oriane has put on her concerned-big-sister face. I hate it when she does that, but at least I know she’s sincere.
“Things are much better. I think the show and my ‘death’ are finally behind us. I’m sure that in a few months it’ll all be just a fading memory for Gabriel.”
“You do regret signing up for such a twisted contest, though, don’t you?”
I watch as Oriane wipes Léontine’s mouth. I’m disappointed by her question, but not surprised. My sister will never get me.
“Not in the least! Gabriel and I are rich. We don’t have to worry about money ever again! We can do whatever we want without a second thought.”
Oriane keeps quiet. I bite my lower lip self-consciously. There’s no way I’m admitting to her that I’m hardly made of money. I don’t know if she’s silent because she doesn’t want to rain on my parade, or because, like me a few weeks ago, she doesn’t realize that it’s not enough for Gabriel and me to laze around the Bahamas for years.
“If I’d lost Gabriel, maybe then I’d regret becoming a contestant, but look: in the end, everything’s turned out fine between us. Why would I have regrets?”
“If you say so. Well then, what are you planning to do with the money?”
“We have tons of ideas! First, we’re going away for a whole month this summer. We haven’t decided exactly where yet, but definitely somewhere with sunny beaches. Maybe Costa Rica; we hear it’s amazing. A vacation will do us both a lot of good. I’ve already bought a couple of new bathing suits for the occasion.”
Léontine clambers down from her high chair and runs over to the others, squealing with joy.
“After that, who knows . . . I’d like to move back to Paris. I can’t see myself living in Saint-Malo forever. In the winter the place feels deserted; it’s depressing after a while. But I haven’t talked to Gabriel about it yet. I’m not sure he’ll be as excited as I am about heading back, so I’ll wait awhile before suggesting it. I’ll bring it up after our vacation. But one thing is sure: I can’t keep wasting away in that small provincial town for much longer.”
Alice comes over and sits down between her mother and me to pout.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Léontine doesn’t know how to play Frisbee. She holds it instead of throwing it. I hate her . . .”
“Excuse me?” asks her mother with a scolding look on her face.
“I mean I don’t like it when she does things like that,” Alice corrects herself.
“You have to be patient, honey, she’s still little. You have to let her have some fun too, okay?”
Alice crosses her arms over her chest and lets out a loud sigh.
I look over at Gabriel. He’s throwing Léontine up into the air as she gleefully screams, “Again, again!” before she even falls back into her uncle’s hands.
Alice turns toward me and asks, “Auntie, why don’t you have a baby in your tummy?”
Oriane smirks and says, “I was wondering exactly the same thing, Alice! You’d love a little cousin, wouldn’t you?”
Gabriel comes over, holding Léontine by the hand and wiping his forehead after more than an hour playing with the children. He seems happy. He’s lost in thought, but he has a broad smile on his face, as if a huge weight has just been lifted.
I wonder if this would be a good time to bring up the possibility of taking his dog back to the Humane Society.
I’m willing to consider having kids, but I can’t be the only one making sacrifices . . .
GABRIEL
At first, when Chloé suggested they renew their wedding vows, Gabriel was skeptical. He had never heard of doing such a thing, so it seemed like just another one of his wife’s extravagant whims.
“Would we have to go back to the town hall and church?”
“No, no. No big fuss. We would just prepare some things to say to each other. People usually do it to celebrate a big anniversary or when they’ve made it through something difficult. I thought it would be a good way for us to start over together.”
She explained it all in detail, and he finally decided that it would be the perfect occasion to show their friends and family that the whole reality TV mess was behind them. That he and his wife were moving forward. That he had managed to forgive her and make the best of an absurd situation.
Those closest to him often cited his ability to adapt as one of his best qualities. Flexible, accommodating, amenable. He knows that’s how people see him. And that’s what he’s always been, after all. Agreeable, kind, and considerate. “Easygoing,” as his fourth-grade teacher had put it. His mother always shook her head, annoyed. “Easygoing, ha! It’s true that he never argues with me when I ask him to clean his room. But if he doesn’t want to, he knows just how to sweet talk me with his, ‘Oh, of course, Mommy, I’ll take care of it straightaway!’ And then, when my back is turned, he goes and does whatever he wants!”
Chloé did her best to plan an event he’d enjoy, and he was surprised to discover she actually did know something about what he liked and disliked. She suggested a small, intimate ceremony with only close friends and family.
“There’s no need to do a big thing. We could have a barbecue in your parents’ backyard, for example. Do you think they’d agree to let us do it in a month? I was thinking Sunday, June 8, would be perfect, because the following Monday is a holiday.”
He almost passed out from shock when he heard the word “barbecue.”
“You mean no passed hors d’oeuvres, no castles, no layer cakes?”
“I had all that when we got married, honey. This will be about getting together with the people we love . . .”
Gabriel accepted, and his parents were delighted with the idea of having everyone over.
“What a wonderful plan! Plus, I just gave your dad a new gas barbecue for his birthday. He’s been dying to try out all sorts of recipes, so it’s just perfect!” exclaimed his mother.
Chloé called her parents and sister, and they all accepted the invitation, happy to celebrate the fact that the couple really had put everything behind them. She also invited her three colleagues and her old roommates, Arthur and Guillaume.
Gabriel invited both his sisters, despite the fact that he spent little time with them, and Geoffrey, of course. He also asked Chloé if it would be okay for him to invite Marie-Hélène and Laura, whom he’d gotten to know through the grief group. “Whatever makes you happy, honey,” whispered Chloé in his ear. There would be about twenty people total—a far cry from the hundred and fifty guests at their wedding.
At night, before they go to bed, Chloé rests her head on Gabriel’s bare chest, and together they fantasize about what to do with the money they’ve won. They both know they’re just dreams, but they still enjoy it.
Chloé thinks about exotic trips with white-sand beaches and turquoise waters. Gabriel suggests trekking through Greenland or Iceland, and she quietly nods. After all, with all the money they’ve got, they can visit the whole world.
She wants to quit her job and likes thinking about all the exciting things she could do: start a personal trainer company, or develop a line of running clothes or bathing suits—outfits that are both comfortable and fashionable. Why not invest in cutting-edge fabrics and the latest technologies—things that will be all the rage for sports enthusiasts in a few years? Gabriel talks about goat farming in the mountains or opening a bed-and-breakfast in the countryside. Chloé only half listens, wondering if her husband is trying to test her by suggesting things that are diametrically opposed to her ideas.
“Are you serious? Can you really see yourself living in a little stone house on top of a mountain, where a helicopter has to bring you groceries in the winter?”
“Totally! And you could swim in the mountain stream nearby,” jokes Gabriel. “I’d make you wear floaties so I wouldn’t have to worry.”
Chloé bursts into laughter and tells her husband good night. They have to get up early f
or work the next day.
Gabriel closes his eyes, but before drifting off he savors the idea that soon he won’t have to dream about being happy anymore. If the show has taught him anything, it’s that he has every right to put himself first from time to time. For years he devoted himself to fulfilling all Chloé’s desires, but now he’s promised himself not to forget what he wants. Not anymore.
EMMA
As I push through the glass door, the bell rings to signal my arrival. The tattoo artist comes over, and I notice that her hair is now a dark turquoise. She snaps her gum in a way she must think is sexy, wearing a jaded look on her face, but it’s really just vulgar.
“What do you need?”
I don’t think she recognizes me. She seems to enjoy drawing on her customers’ skin about as much as I enjoy taking pictures of smiling newlyweds.
“You tattooed an eagle on my wrist almost a year ago, maybe you remember?”
The woman, whose face is covered in piercings, waits for me to continue, totally uninterested. I roll up the sleeve of my leather jacket to show her the inside of my wrist. She gives it a quick glance.
“Yeah, and? It’s a little late for complaints.”
“I’d like to change it. Is that possible?”
“Depends. Like, I can’t turn it into a dolphin.”
I want to laugh, but given the frown on her face, I gather it wasn’t meant as a joke. I rummage through my bag and pull out a wrinkled piece of paper on which I traced the black eagle as the starting point for my changes, to get an idea of the result. The tattoo artist takes it from my hands and studies it for a second as she blows a bubble with her gum.
“Yeah, it’s doable. I can even do it freehand; it’ll be quick. You’ll be out of here in fifteen minutes. I can fit you in before my next appointment. I mean, if you’re sure this time,” she adds in a slightly condescending tone.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure,” I say as I take off my jacket.
“Make yourself at home, then,” she replies, gesturing toward the back of the shop.
I sit down in the worn black leather chair. She gets out her equipment, chooses her ink, and turns on the electric needle.
“This will hurt a little.”
“I’m aware.”
Her lips form a faint smile.
“Well then, here we go.”
I close my eyes and exhale as slowly as possible.
Last week, while putting away some things that had been sitting in a corner of my studio for too long, I came across the pale-green envelope Gabriel had given me at our last dinner together. The last time we ever saw each other, as it turned out.
I took out the ticket for Tel Aviv. The job offer I’d gotten to work in Gaza was fake, but the Air France ticket was definitely real. All I had to do was pack my bags, take the train to Charles de Gaulle Airport, and get on the plane to Israel. What did I have to lose? More importantly, what did I stand to gain by staying here?
It was an easy decision. I’d packed the bare minimum in my suitcase; I was sure the rest of my stuff would make the next renter very happy. I comforted my mother on the phone for over an hour, listening to her cry as if she’d just found out her daughter was dead. “You do realize it’s a war zone over there, Emma!” My father took the phone away from her in the end and told me to take care of myself. “Let us know how you’re doing, okay? Your mother will drive me nuts if you don’t.” He was too proud to admit that he was worried too.
Suddenly the needle stops humming and I unclench my jaw.
“It’s done. Told you it wouldn’t take long,” says the turquoise-haired woman as she quickly cleans my skin and looks at me questioningly. “Like it?”
I glance down and nod. “It’s perfect.”
Now the eagle has a long tail of crimson and ochre feathers. The black bird of prey has become a magnificent phoenix.
I’m ready to begin my new life.
CHAPTER 19
JUNE 2014
CHLOÉ
Adorable little Alice walks slowly down the aisle holding the ring cushion. She’s concentrating so hard on not dropping the rings that it looks like she’s trying to freeze them into place with her stare.
“Watch where you’re going, sweetheart,” says Oriane quietly as her daughter walks past. Alice looks up and smiles when she realizes she’s almost reached us.
When Gabriel bends down to take the cushion from our niece’s hands, he whispers in her ear. “Thank you very much, little miss!” She blushes with pride, then turns around and runs to rejoin her parents.
I’m nervous. I hate speaking in public. I unfold the paper where I’ve jotted down my speech. I bite my lip, then relax as I meet Gabriel’s reassuring gaze.
“When you agreed to marry me just over four years ago, you pledged yourself to me for better or worse . . . Over the past year, I think I’ve put you through the worst. You thought I was dead and had to try to move forward without me. Then I came back, and you had to learn to trust me all over again. Today I want to tell you that the ‘better’ part lies ahead. Now we can finally live our dreams together. I love you, Gabriel, and I’m so happy to be your wife.”
I carefully take Gabriel’s wedding ring off the cushion and slide it onto his finger. I’ve had the inside of the white-gold band engraved with the symbolic words “8 juin 2014 – Pour le meilleur.” For better.
Gabriel smiles at me as our friends and family cheer from the mismatched yard chairs Oriane and my parents brought over earlier. I fold up my little piece of paper and hold it tightly in my closed fist; I don’t have a pocket to slip it into. I discreetly adjust the off-white empire-waist dress I bought in a little shop in Rennes last weekend.
Gabriel clears his throat. “Chloé.” He pauses and looks deep into my eyes. Seconds pass and I wait to hear the rest.
Everyone is waiting to hear the rest.
He turns to our guests, a smile on his face. “Do you know how Chloé and I met? She noticed me one day outside my bank, smoking on the sidewalk between client meetings. She even changed banks just to meet me! Can you believe that?”
Laughter breaks out.
“She showed up at nine one morning and patiently listened to my speech on savings accounts. Then, all of a sudden, she looked right at me and asked me to lunch. She didn’t even give me time to answer before rushing headlong out of my office.”
The summarized version makes me blush.
“I should have understood then that when Chloé wants something, she’ll do anything to get it. That’s definitely still true today!” jokes Gabriel. He turns back toward me and tenderly strokes my cheek. “I love you to death, you know.”
He takes my ring and slips it onto my finger. I enjoy the feeling of the cold metal on my skin, a feeling I missed so much. My husband takes my face in his hands and kisses me deeply.
When I finally catch my breath, Gabriel’s father stands up and yells, “Let’s eat, everyone!”
GABRIEL
Gabriel brought white-chocolate-raspberry cookies he made himself to the final group therapy session. Chloé managed to steal two of them while they were cooling, but he put the rest in a big metal box and told her not to touch them. She promised not to with her mouth full. “Cross my heart,” she mumbled, accidentally spitting a few crumbs onto the floor.
Edith thanks him and places the box on a table in a corner of the room, along with the other participants’ potluck contributions, all awaiting the meal they’ll share after this twelfth and final session.
“Making peace with yourself is the last theme we’ll be exploring. Let’s go around the table so everyone can share. If you had to compare your state of mind today with your state of mind a year ago, what do you think has changed?”
Gisèle, who’s sitting to Edith’s left and just celebrated her sixty-fourth birthday, gets things started. She’s not one of the most talkative people in the group, but since they’re going around the table she doesn’t have much of a choice.
“When my husb
and died in late 2012, I pretended I could cope and get on with my life as before. I wanted to be strong for my kids, who were devastated by the loss of their father. I wanted to protect them, take care of them no matter what. But I didn’t have anyone to help me. Thanks to the discussions we’ve had here, I’ve learned that I’m allowed both to feel pain and to let others see that. Now my two sons are there for me too. I still have a ways to go to get past Guy’s death, but I know I’m on the path to healing . . . thanks to all of you.”
Gisèle blushes. She’s not used to sharing her feelings aloud. The other participants clap quietly, and Edith gently squeezes her forearm to signal her compassion while simultaneously nodding for Michel to take his turn.
“A year ago I was overwhelmed by anxiety attacks. Not a day went by without a panic attack, hot flashes, feeling like my heart was going to burst out of my chest . . . You all remember how hard it was for me to stay seated in this room . . . I felt like I was suffocating. I won’t say everything’s all better now, but I do feel like I’ve accepted the fact that anyone can die at any time. That there’s nothing fair or unfair about it. And that until then, it’s important to take advantage of the time we have.”
The others nod in agreement. Laura explains that her grief has become acceptable over the past few months, though it’s still with her every single day. She tells them about a man she met a few weeks ago and how she lets herself spend time with him occasionally, without knowing whether it will turn into something more or not.
Marie-Hélène admits that the heavy load of guilt she’s been carrying around since her son Sacha’s death is getting lighter. She knows now that there was nothing she could have done to save her son and realizes that she has to forgive herself if she wants to go on living.
When it’s Oscar’s turn to share, he chuckles and says the others have already voiced everything he feels. His pain is getting easier to handle, the desire to scream out loud is ebbing little by little, and the guilt is making way for serenity. His grief, though not gone, is now bearable.
Next Edith turns to Gabriel, who’s sitting to her right.
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