by Harper Bliss
Before the accident, Margot would have been able to deal with it better. She was certain of that. But she wasn’t the same stoic, level-headed person anymore. Something had changed. Frustrated, Margot kicked even harder, until it started to hurt too much, and, exhausted, she stopped. She looked at the clock on the wall. She’d been here longer than she had anticipated. She was supposed to meet Claire at the Rue Montorgueuil in fifteen minutes. Damn it. She would be late. Another something Margot used to pride herself on. She always used to be on time.
How did I use to be so perfect? she mumbled to herself in the shower. How did I do that? And why have I lost that ability?
✶ ✶ ✶
“What’s eating you?” Claire asked. Her hair was freshly cut and she looked like a new person, as though she’d turned a page she’d been stuck on for too long.
“You look good,” Margot said.
“Don’t change the subject.” Claire gave her a little smile anyway. They were having lunch at Bistro Central. The best piece of meat you’ll ever have, Claire had promised. Her steak was indeed delicious, but Margot didn’t have much of an appetite. “Come on. Out with it,” Claire insisted. “We’re besties now, remember? You can tell me things. You don’t just have to listen to me whine about Juliette all the time.” Margot did truly wonder why Claire was so chipper. Was it just the effect of an afternoon of pampering? Perhaps she should give that a go then. But Margot found the mere notion of sitting still for an hour while someone filed her nails utterly ludicrous. She had better things to do with her time. Like kick a punching bag until she’d almost broken a toe.
“Dievart. I can’t get her out of my head,” Margot admitted. She didn’t want to involve Claire in this either. It felt like a mission she had to accomplish on her own. How else could she truly atone?
“Not you too?” Claire said, then giggled. “I know very well the woman has a certain manner about herself, but you were the last person I thought would succumb to her charms.” Claire put her hand on Margot’s on the table and patted it. “Maybe we should start a support group.”
“Oh, stop it.” Margot knew Claire was only joking, but it grated on her nerves nonetheless. Why was she so testy about it, though? At least she could pride herself on the fact that she had never—not for one split second—fallen for Dievart’s so-called charms. Margot was the only one who had seen through her from the very beginning.
“I’m only teasing,” Claire said. “Just tell me. I can take it. Has she said anything this week?”
“She has gotten on my nerves spectacularly, but no, she hasn’t said or done anything out of the ordinary,” Margot said. “I just… can’t stand to be around her. I want to make her… go away.” Margot had wanted to use the word ‘disappear’ first but that sounded a little too sinister. “I want her out of Saint-Vincent at the very least, and preferably also out of Paris. She has done too much damage.” Margot was clenching her teeth.
“I hate her just as much as you do. Actually, I may hate her more than you do, but that’s only because of how weak I was. Yes, she’s a seductress and a game player and a little bit sick in the head. She’s not a nice person. And fuck, she should never have told Nadia about us. All of that is very true, but you know, I fell for it. I was stupid and vulnerable, and it would be so very easy to say that, yes, it was all her fault. That none of it would have happened if she hadn’t moved to Paris, but then I would let myself off the hook very lightly. I can’t, in good faith, blame her for the mess I’m in, because I’m the one who made it. I’m the one who repeatedly let her into my flat and let her do the things she did to me. That’s all on me. She didn’t make me do anything.” Claire had finished her steak already. She hadn’t had much of an appetite all week, but it seemed to have returned with full force today. “Now eat your food. I’m taking you somewhere after this. It’s a surprise.”
“Christ,” Margot groaned. “You know I hate surprises.”
“I know, but just indulge me, okay? It’ll be worth it.”
“Fine.” Margot’s curiosity had been piqued. While she cut a few more morsels of her steak, she pondered what Claire had just said. True or not, she didn’t have to share a locker room with Dievart. “What’s my surprise?” she asked, because she was ready to let the subject of Marie Dievart slip from her mind for the rest of the weekend—or at least as long as Claire’s talk of a surprise would allow her.
“You’ll see.”
Margot finished the rest of her steak in record time and looked around for the waiter so they could get the check.
CLAIRE
“Where are we going?” Margot kept asking. They had taken a taxi to Claire’s street but Claire had asked the driver to drop them a couple hundred meters further up the road than her building. Not exactly in front of the place where she was taking Margot, because that would spoil the surprise immediately, but a few blocks earlier, so the anticipation could build a little longer. Claire had had the idea in the middle of the night. She had many ideas in the middle of the night these days because sleep didn’t come very easy, but this one was the only good one she’d had so far. It had improved her mood significantly. She’d had to lie to Margot about her whereabouts this morning. She did go for her haircut, but she’d skipped the mani and pedi. She was certain Margot wouldn’t even notice.
“Just a tiny bit more patience, dear.” Claire knew how condescending she sounded, and she enjoyed every second of it. They were almost there. Claire had passed by the shop countless times before, and had never given it much thought. It was just there the way every other shop in her street was every single day. But today was different. Tension built in her gut as they finally reached the building with its huge glass storefront.
“It’s the motorcycle shop,” Margot said.
“Indeed it is,” Claire replied. “I was thinking about that one over there.” She pointed at one on their right hand side. Claire, in truth, didn’t know the first thing about motorcycles, but she knew which brand Margot used to own and she’d come into the shop earlier this morning and had a salesman give her all the details about it. “I bought it for you,” Claire continued. “We just need to pick it up and settle some paperwork.”
“You what?” Margot didn’t look at her, just stared in front of her—at the bike, Claire hoped.
“I know you miss riding terribly, Margot. I also know you don’t want to give yourself the break of getting a new one. That you think you need to do penance by never riding a motorbike again. But you’ve paid enough. You deserve this.”
“You bought it for me?” Margot seemed to be more in shock than anything else.
“Yes.” Claire scooted a little closer to Margot and took her hand. “You don’t have to start riding it straightaway. But it’ll be there when you’re ready. Did I ever tell you how thrilling it was to sit on the back with you?” One of Claire’s fondest memories was when Margot had picked her up for an al fresco picnic under the Eiffel Tower for their second-chance first date.
“Look, Claire, aside from it being far too much to give me as a present, I’m not sure I—”
Claire squeezed Margot’s hand. “I’m not forcing this on you. If after a few weeks or months you still don’t want it, I’ll sell it. But I think it would be good for you to partake again in this activity that brings you so much joy. Traffic drives you crazy, as I have noticed more than once in the past week. And you’re always so hard on yourself. I really, really want you to have this. I want you to be happy again, Margot.” Because if it hadn’t been for Claire, Margot would never have wrecked her motorcycle. “I even got you this.” Juliette had told Claire about how she had found out it was Margot’s bike that had caused the crash on their street that night. Claire pulled a tiny sheet out of her jacket pocket and presented the Korean flag stickers to Margot.
Margot looked at them in disbelief, her hand still folded into Claire’s. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were wooing me,” Margot said. Claire didn’t mind that thought at all,
but she pushed it to the back of her mind immediately. They’d had the talk. They were friends. “Also, you can’t give someone a motorcycle as a present and then casually say, ‘No pressure. If you don’t want it, I’ll sell it.’ I know how much these things cost, Claire, it’s not something I can accept.”
“This is not about money. I have enough to buy a dozen without batting an eyelash. I don’t care about money. I care about how you were there for me when I had no one.” Oh fuck, Claire felt a tear slip out of the corner of her eye. “Just take the fucking bike,” she said, and handed the stickers to Margot. “You haven’t been the same without. Margot de Hay without a motorbike is like… a Frenchman in a hat walking along a Parisian street without a baguette under his arm.” Claire chuckled at her ridiculous analogy.
“It is a pretty gorgeous bike.” Margot squeezed her hand back. “I really don’t know what to say to such generosity, except thank you a million times.”
“It’s more gratitude than generosity.” Claire put the stickers in Margot’s hand. “Shall we go in?” It felt so good to be able to do something nice for someone else, instead of wallowing in the misery the possible end of her friendship with Juliette had pushed her in. Fixing that would be the next item on her to-do list. Juliette couldn’t avoid her forever. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, and Claire was able to look past her huge embarrassment, the only conclusion she could draw was that a twenty-five-year friendship should be able to withstand what she had done. Friends forgave each other transgressions all the time. Admittedly, conducting a secret affair with Marie Dievart was not a minor mistake to have made by any standard but, damn it, twenty-five years of sharing their lives together should account for something more than this. Claire had to believe that.
“Okay.” Margot nodded and, their hands still clasped together, they walked into the shop.
✶ ✶ ✶
Because it was close to the shop and Claire had to pick up some fresh clothes, they went up to Claire’s flat after they’d completed the sales transaction of Margot’s brand new motorcycle.
Margot’s mood had visibly brightened as well and now they were both in good spirits and they had the rest of the weekend in front of them to enjoy. Claire could actually choose to stay in her flat alone again—she felt strong enough for that, and that way Margot would have her privacy back—but Claire quite enjoyed staying with Margot. Not having to come home to an empty flat after a long day at work was soothing. Just watching the evening news together felt so much better than watching it alone. Maybe they should become roommates. Juliette had advised Claire to sell her flat.
“About Dievart,” Claire said while they were eating a celebratory éclair at her dining table. “The way I see it, you have two options.”
This got Margot’s attention. Claire didn’t think that ‘bringing Dievart down’—because that was what Margot had called it—was Margot’s battle to fight. Moreover, Margot wasn’t someone who spent her free time plotting the demise of a fellow doctor. That was not the Margot Claire knew anyway. “Either you use me in your plan.” Claire shrugged. “I could come to the hospital, for instance, create a scene, make her react. Something like that. We could embarrass her, although she might be too smart to take the bait. We don’t know any of that and that plan is seriously flawed. Or…” She locked her gaze on Margot. God, those eyes. How had Claire ever gotten over their intense stare? “Together, er, you and I, as friends, could try to bring the old Margot back. Do you remember her? That kind, unflinching, loyal, good-hearted person I fell so hard for? I remember her, in fact she’s sitting across from me. She’s not entirely herself yet, but who could blame her after all she has been through? I know I can’t. But the Margot I fell for didn’t have a mind for vengeance. She lived and let live. She went about her life with the most integrity I’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t say that, Claire. I screwed you over when Inez came back. I drove you away. I made so many mistakes. One after the other. And then I endangered someone’s life. I could have died. I should have died.”
Claire banged her fist on the table. “Don’t ever say that again.” Had she really thought she could assuage Margot’s guilt by gifting her a new motorcycle?
“I’m sorry.” Margot held up her hands. “I shouldn’t have said that. If anything, I’m so lucky. But I’m not going to lie, in those long dark months of recovery, I often thought about how I didn’t deserve to live after what I had done.”
“Everybody always deserves a second chance, Margot.” In fact, I’d give you a third, Claire thought, totally out of the blue. Now, however, was not the time to say that out loud.
“I know the whole Dievart business is a way of keeping my mind from drifting to other thoughts. Going back to work has been stressful, mainly because of her. She reminds me of that night every time I see her. She saw me at my worst, after I had done the most despicable thing I’ve ever done in my life. And, well, if I’m being totally honest here, it didn’t exactly help that you’d just been on a date with her. She just stands for… so many things I’d like to put behind me and it feels as though I can’t do that as long as she’s working at Saint-Vincent.”
Claire could launch into an apology again, and repeat how sorry she was for turning up at the hospital with Dievart, and for not trying harder to resist her, but she decided to go about things in a more zen way. “Do you think all of that will be solved by getting rid of her?” She dropped her fork. “The way I see it, Dievart is more a manifestation of the problem you have with yourself than the problem itself. I won’t sit here and claim all of our lives wouldn’t be better if she was out of the picture, but, you know, this is life. We can’t just chase people away because we’re done playing with them and we don’t like them anymore. It doesn’t work that way. All we can do is look inside ourselves and find a way to move on, to move forward with our lives and our flawed selves, and the mistakes we seem to repeat again and again because they’re ingrained in our personality. And make the best of it. Every mistake should, at the very least, make you a little wiser. Granted, some of us make more than others. And yes, I’m referring to myself. But, you have to let it go, Margot, if you want to be your old self again. By that I don’t necessarily mean the exact same person as you were before, but someone with the same values who has learned a lesson.”
“Wow.” Margot dropped her fork now as well. “Someone’s been doing some introspection.”
“It’s amazing how much more free time I have now that I don’t have Juliette around to waste it with.” Claire managed a giggle, but it hurt. She missed Juliette like crazy. Not so much as someone to run a business with and go to meetings with and discuss the future with—though that was also a part of it—but she missed her friend, her confidante. She even missed Juliette’s on-going talk about having children. About her nieces and how wonderful they were, even though Claire had never even met them. She missed how much she whined about having to be friendly with her father and brother in return for access to her nieces. She even missed how much she was fooling herself into considering having a child on the brink of forty-five. She missed Juliette with all her flaws and imperfections.
“If you give her a speech like that, I’m sure she’ll come around.” Margot painted a smile on her face. Ah, that smile. Margot wasn’t the easiest person to get to smile but when she did, the whole room lit up—the whole world lit up.
“You know what?” Claire said. “I just might.”
“You can practice on me,” Margot said.
“I know I can,” Claire said, and when she looked into Margot’s eyes, she felt it again. That sensation that had been creeping up on her since she’d leaned her head on Margot’s shoulder last Friday. The sensation that she never wanted her to leave ever again.
JULIETTE
Juliette hadn’t been away from the Barbier & Cyr office for a full week in years. Which reminded her again of the fact that she and Nadia should take more time off. It was strange to push open the door on Monday morni
ng. It felt as though, because of her voluntary absence, she didn’t fully own the place anymore. Usually, when she arrived first thing in the morning, she always felt, if only for a split second, a clear sense of pride at what she and Claire had created. They had made a lot of sacrifices for it—including one that Juliette was beginning to think she was going to pay for big time—but Barbier & Cyr was a thriving PR agency. She and Claire had made that happen. If they hadn’t had the balls years ago to start this company, it would simply not exist. They had created it out of nothing but their willpower and the strength of their combined minds. Juliette would certainly not have been able to accomplish it without Claire—she was painfully aware of that. They were not just great friends, they made for excellent business partners as well.
She didn’t experience that sense of pride this morning, because she felt as though she had abandoned the people she worked with. It was a silly idea in itself, she knew that, because she had worked just as hard from home, but it had felt different. Perhaps because she had enjoyed the extra time for herself so much. But, mainly, because of the reason why she had worked from home—it had felt more like fleeing the office.
Juliette was, of course, also nervous. She could have opted to work from home longer, but that was taking the easy route. And why should she have to work from home and not Claire? She wasn’t the one who’d slept with sodding Marie Dievart.
“Bonjour Véro,” she said when she walked past her assistant’s desk to her office.
“Double shot?” Véro asked.
“Better make it a triple.” Juliette gave her a grin. “And, er, could you let me know when Claire arrives, please?”