by Harper Bliss
“Puh.” Steph wondered if all doctors were required to go to shrink school. She also felt an itching in her legs, like she couldn’t sit still. Le Noir would only open in a few hours. She’d need to go.
“From where I’m sitting,” Margot leaned back in her chair, a look of condescension on her face, “it seems as though the only reason you asked for my opinion is because you know full well this whole Sybille plan is just a way of keeping your mind off other things. I saw you and Dominique together. You’re hurting now that it’s over. And that’s completely normal and understandable, but what is sleeping with someone like Sybille going to get you? Revenge? Is that what you’re after?”
Steph was surprised by the amount of words Margot was stringing together. She hadn’t pegged her for such a big talker. “Forget it,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” She started looking around for Tony to settle the bill. “I should go.”
“Be my guest.” Margot held her arms wide, like a priest in a church after he finished his preachy, condescending sermon. She doubted she’d ever become friends with Margot after this conversation.
“I just never thought you’d be one to judge so easily.” Steph said it without thinking.
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Judging you?” Margot widened her eyes and leaned over the table. “Sorry if it came across that way, but I’m not.”
“Whatever.” Steph was done with this. She slapped a ten euro bill on the table and stood.
“Why did you hit on me the first time we met?” That question took Steph completely by surprise.
“I don’t know. Because you looked sad and needed cheering up.” Steph shrugged, feeling awkward towering over the table. “That was ages ago.”
“Feels like a lifetime ago.” Margot seemed to lose focus for a moment. “What I’m trying to say, Stéphanie.” She peered up at Steph. “Don’t be afraid to put yourself first once in a while.”
Margot might as well be speaking in riddles. “What does that have that to do with anything?”
“Will you sit back down?” Margot tilted her head a little. “Please.”
Steph obliged. Margot was, indeed, a hard woman to say no to. She waited until Steph had retaken her seat across from her.
“I don’t know you very well, but I know a thing or two about guilt, and it looks to me as though you’re shouldering a huge amount of it. Guilt for falling in love with a client. For jeopardising Dominique’s career. For having your picture taken by Sybille.” Steph expected Margot to reach out her hand and give her an encouraging tap on the arm. She didn’t. At least that was in character. “And now you feel it’s solely up to you to make things right. You broke up with Dominique. But that’s not enough. You need to get vengeance, and you’re willing to do whatever it takes.”
Jesus. Did Claire tell her everything? Steph thought they’d barely been talking? Or perhaps that was what they’d been doing instead of trying to save their own relationship: discuss her life. Always something to talk about when it came to Stéphanie Mathis. Such a thankful subject of conversation. Ideal to kill those mortifying silences with. Hey, guess what Steph did now…
“I won’t compare my own situation to yours,” Margot continued. “I made a mistake and hurt Claire badly, but I paid for it sufficiently. I refuse to do more penance. I advise you to do the same.”
“Oh really, Doctor Know-It-All, then what do you advise I do? Nothing? Sit back and wait for Sybille and Marechal to destroy Dominique even further?”
“No. You should do whatever’s in your job description, and I bet sleeping with Sybille is not a contractual requirement.”
“Look, Margot, I know your type. You adhere to strict morals and believe that sex can only be part of love, but I’m not like you. I have no code. Sex means many different things to me. I have one-night-stands, and I enjoy them. I sleep around, and I don’t feel shame because of it, even though people like you want to talk me into doing so.”
“No, you misunderstood—” Margot started, but Steph cut her off.
“I’m not ashamed of how I live my life. There is no deeper meaning here. I fell in love. It ended badly. Now I’m trying to move on while doing my job the way I damn well please.”
“Fine.” Margot slacked in her seat. “But tell me one thing. Why, of all people, did you ask me?”
“Because you’re smart and I wanted to get your take on this. Just like I said. I wasn’t looking to be psychoanalysed.”
“Well then, all I have to say is: don’t do it.”
“Thanks for your time and opinion.” Steph rose again. This should make for excellent dinner conversation with Claire, she wanted to add, but instead, walked out of the bar in silence.
JULIETTE
Juliette knocked on Claire’s door. It took her friend longer than usual to reply.
“Was that Margot I just saw leaving with Steph?” she asked once inside.
“Steph? I don’t know about that, but Margot was surely here.” Claire squirmed in her seat.
“Maybe just a coincidence.” Juliette spotted a paper bag with two baguettes on the cabinet closest to Claire’s door. “Didn’t get to actually eat lunch, huh?”
“Not quite.” Claire grimaced. Juliette didn’t want to know. “Fancy a sandwich?”
“Sure.” Juliette grabbed the bag and settled in a chair on the other side of Claire’s desk.
“What state was Nadia in when she made it home last night?” Claire asked. Hearing Nadia’s name automatically grated on Juliette’s nerves these days. Not a pleasant sensation. Especially considering the fact that Juliette was about to marry her—if they ever got round to actually organising a wedding.
“No idea.” Juliette opened the halves of the baguette and peered inside. Chicken wasn’t her favourite but it would do.
“Care to elaborate?” Claire didn’t seem very inclined to eat.
“I’m jealous. There. Fine. I’ll say it. I’m jealous because that neurosurgeon will be working in Nadia’s hospital. I hate that Nadia slept with her. And possibly had two orgasms which she claims she doesn’t remember.” Anger rising in her gut, Juliette took a bite, her mouth too full to say more.
Claire drew her shoulders close to her ears. “What can I say, Jules?”
Juliette glanced at Claire while she swallowed. “I know. But I really feel as though I have a right to be upset, even if unreasonably so.”
“Do you…” Claire half-heartedly reached for the other sandwich. “Want to talk about the other thing?”
In all honesty, this was what pissed Juliette off the most. Claire tip-toeing around her about her father. Nadia saying she should go see him. Everyone was entitled to their opinion, but Juliette would much prefer it if they kept it to themselves.
“There’s nothing to say. At this point in my life, I don’t really care if he lives or dies. Apparently he’s living, so, yay, good for him. More time to teach François’s girls about the values of a ‘real family’.” Years ago, Juliette had received announcement cards when her nieces had been born. It was the only time she’d allowed herself to feel gutted because of the situation with her family. Newborns were a cause for celebration. New life. Endless possibilities. She’d have preferred François to not have sent them. Why had he anyway? So she could wire some money into the girls’ bank accounts? What else could she do, except worry herself sick about the home these children, who were related to her by blood, would grow up in? What would they be taught? Would there even be a mention of their estranged Auntie Juliette? Or would they all pretend she didn’t exist?
Perhaps she should go see her father and tell him that, apart from being on the cusp of marrying another woman, she would also like to have a child. That was bound to give him another heart attack.
“It’s up to you, Jules,” Claire said noncommittally. She didn’t have the best relationship with her parents either, but that was for more common reasons, like clashing personalities, not because Claire was a lesbian. Juliette had always l
oved spending time with Claire’s parents. She’d always loved time spent with anyone else’s family but her own, despite the bitter aftertaste these visits might leave her with afterwards, but she preferred not to think of what she might or might not be missing. “I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Juliette took another bite. It was only lunch time, but she could really do with a glass of wine. And with having her wife on her side. Because that was what it had felt like when Nadia had advised her to talk to her father, right after she’d dropped the Dievart bomb. As though Nadia was siding with her family. Perhaps Juliette couldn’t see clearly—she knew she couldn’t—but wasn’t Nadia supposed to be firmly in her camp? At all times? “Do you think I was too hard on François when he came by?”
“God no.” Claire shook her head. “You don’t owe them anything.”
“Just because, perhaps for the first time since I came out, my father said something nice about me… I mean, don’t these people realise what they have done? And in the name of what?” Juliette sighed. “I really don’t know. I will never grasp how someone can be that way. To make your own child understand that they’re not welcome in your home anymore, and because of what? Love?” Juliette pushed her sandwich to the side. “The only thing I’m concerned about is how Chloé and Iris are growing up. All that blind hatred. To have that spoon-fed to you from a young age. It’s not right.” Something in her gut clenched. “What if one of them turns out to be gay?” Juliette couldn’t believe she actually felt tears sit at the ready behind her eyes.
“Then they should know they can come to you.” Claire shuffled around in her big leather office chair. “They should know they have a beautiful, strong, successful aunt who is gay and whose life isn’t any worse for it.”
“I’ve always willed myself not to think about them, just like with the rest of my family, even though they carry no blame. But they’re”—Juliette paused to count in her head—“twelve and fifteen now. For all I know they don’t even know I exist.” Juliette was determined to not let sentimentality get the better of her. “I can rationalise it and say they’re not my problem, but they are my family, no matter how stupid their father and grandfather are.” Sentimentality was winning. Big time.
“Jules, please talk to Nadz. You shouldn’t be going through this alone.”
“I know I shouldn’t, but why hasn’t she apologised?”
“Erm.” Juliette could see hesitation cross Claire’s face. “Perhaps because you haven’t let her? No offense, Jules, but you’re not always the easiest person to say sorry to.”
Juliette nodded pensively.
“You know she loves you more than anything and wants nothing but the best for you.”
“Oh merde.” A tear made its way out of Juliette’s eye. “This whole thing with my dad. I pretend I know how to deal with it, but I actually don’t have much of a clue.” She wiped the tear away, but it was immediately followed by another. “I thought I could just cut all ties. I did successfully for so many years, and then François turns up, and even though I don’t want it to, it still hurts me so fucking much.”
“Oh Jules.” Claire started to rise from her chair.
“No hugs. If we start hugging now, I’ll be a mess all afternoon.” Juliette wasn’t kidding. She was struggling to regain control.
“Then be a mess.” Claire was just as stubborn as her. Within a split second, she was by Juliette’s side, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Take some time off. Or work half days. Steph is back and you know she’s out to prove herself.”
Juliette sniffled. “It’s just that, when everything else starts to fall apart, this place feels like the only thing I can hold on to.” Melodrama all around, Juliette thought as the words fled her mouth. Luckily, she knew that Claire would never hold them against her. That was what best friends were for.
Claire threw an arm around her shoulder and held her tight. “You know what I sometimes wonder?” she asked. “If we should have pushed Dominique to come out and worked on spinning that, instead of having her retreat back into the closet. Set an example. If not us, in alliance with someone as powerful as her, who else will make this country a place where your nieces—and my own nieces and nephews—can grow up unafraid?”
“We’re cowards,” Juliette blubbered.
“The hell we are.” Claire crouched down next to her. “You’ve never hidden who you are, not even from people like your father. But PR is our job, and we both know that the truth will not always work best for us professionally.”
“Maybe it’s not too late.” Despite her father’s attempts at changing that, Juliette had never been ashamed of who she loved. “We should talk to Steph.”
“Are you serious?” Claire was still hugging her.
Juliette shrugged. “I don’t know, but lately, I’ve come to realise that, perhaps, I’ve been attaching too much importance to the wrong things.” The next thought jarred her. “Maybe I’m more like my father than I care to believe.”
Juliette felt the tension in Claire’s muscles as she shook her head, the movement vibrating through her entire body. “You’re nothing like that man.”
“Then I must take after my mother.” In unguarded moments, Juliette wondered which one of her parents she loathed most. At least her father had taken care of her after her mother left. Was she still married to that ANF guy? That wolf who didn’t even bother to wear sheep’s clothing. “I share their genes, Claire. I must have something of that inside of me.”
“Nuh-huh.” Claire hugged her tighter. “You were the lucky one, Jules. You only inherited their good qualities. All the bigotry went to François.”
“Which good qualities? How to stop loving your daughter when she doesn’t turn out to be what you expected?”
Claire let go of Juliette’s shoulder and sank through her knees so she could face her. “I bet they have nothing but regrets now.”
“Maybe my dad, because he’s flirting with death. What about my mother? What are the odds of having two parents who disown you, after they get divorced?” Juliette didn’t know if François was still in contact with their mother. And if she wanted to become a mother herself, should she not find some way to make peace with her own family, if only in her heart?
“And look how you’ve come out on the other side, Jules?” An unprecedented tenderness had taken over Claire’s face. Claire had witnessed first hand how Juliette’s parents had rejected her. It had cemented their friendship, laid the foundation for the deep companionship they still shared now.
“Let’s talk to Steph as soon as we can.” Juliette started to get a pretty clear vision of what she and Claire had to do.
NADIA
Claire had better get her act together, Nadia thought, if this woman is planning to go after Margot. Doctor Dievart had called her office earlier and proposed they have lunch so they could clear the air before she officially started next week. Nadia had thought it a good idea at the time, but now, as she sat staring into Dievart’s almond-shaped eyes, memories of that night she had long banned to the recesses of her brain came back to her in quick, vivid color splashes.
The fact was that Doctor Marie Dievart was not only an enormously skilled neurosurgeon—one that Saint-Vincent was very lucky to count among its staff—but she was also terribly good-looking, what with those alpine cheekbones, those clear eyes looking straight into your soul, and, most of all, those hands. The things those hands could do. Nadia had said to Juliette that she didn’t remember, because she had desperately wanted to forget. But she remembered now as Dievart’s long fingers curled around her fork as she stabbed it resolutely into a chunk of salmon. She remembered what those fingers had done to her.
“I want us to be friends, Nadia,” Dievart said in her Belgian accent. “We can start our own club in Saint-Vincent, so it seems.” When she smiled it broke her face in a way that softened her features.
“We’ll see.” Nadia sipped from her mineral water. “But just to be absolutely clear. What
happened between us was a one-off. I’m engaged now.” Nadia wiggled the ring finger of her left hand. The weight it carried soothed her.
Dievart dropped her fork and displayed her palms—a gesture of peace. “Understood.” She squeezed her eyes into slits. “Did you tell your partner about us?”
“I did.” And it nearly destroyed us, Nadia thought. “It’s all out in the open. Still, discretion would be appreciated.”
“That goes without saying.” Marie made a gesture with her hand as if to indicate that she didn’t need to be told. “I’d love to meet your fiancée at some point.”
Sure, Nadia thought, maybe we can have a threesome. Or an orgy, with Margot and Claire. Might as well invite Steph along for the ride. Perhaps Doctor Dievart had the best of intentions, but this conversation was making Nadia very uncomfortable. Mainly because she was angry at herself for needing to have it at all.
“All in good time,” Nadia replied, with no intention of introducing her new colleague to Juliette any time soon.
“You came across as very protective of Doctor de Hay when I asked you about her the other day.” Dievart tilted her head and scrunched her lips together. “May I ask why?”
“She’s a good friend who’s dating another good friend.” Nadia hoped Dievart would take the hint.
“I respect that.” She curled her lips into a smile. She didn’t pick up her fork again, although her plate was still half-full. “Do you happen to have any single friends?”
Nadia chuckled and shook her head. “God, you’re straightforward.”
“Very un-Belgian of me. I know. I spent a lot of time in the States. The directness rubbed off on me, I find it so much easier than endlessly beating about the bush.” When Nadia relaxed, and forgot about what happened between them, Marie Dievart seemed like a perfectly likeable woman. She wouldn’t have slept with her in the first place if she wasn’t.