by Emma Nichols
Eva shrugged. ‘Tell me, why did he leave?’
‘It was just adult stuff. Adult stupidity. He was a heavy drinker. They all were. It was part of the job, helped him handle the stress, I guess.’ Eva nodded. ‘That wasn’t so bad, but one day he came back really drunk.’ She paused, sipped at her coffee. ‘He hit me, and I threw him out and told him not to come back. He didn’t. You were three, nearly four at the time. I didn’t know how I was going to cope without the money coming in, but there was no way I was going to compromise myself, or us, for the sake of having a steady income.’ Rowena’s face didn’t change, her tone remaining matter-of-fact. Eva’s eyes were wet when her mum came back out of the trance from which she spoke. ‘Hey’, she said, softly. She stood and stepped around the table, pulling Eva up out of her seat and into her arms.
Eva sobbed, clinging to Rowena, comforted by their physical contact. ‘I feel so small,’ Eva said, sniffling into her mum’s shoulder.
‘Hey, it’s okay. It’s my fault, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise the effect not knowing would have on you.’ She squeezed her daughter tightly, kissing her head, hoping to take away the sadness and pain and replace it with love.
‘I didn’t realise either, until just now.’ Eva pulled back slightly and looked her mum in the eye. ‘I don’t even know why I feel this way. I didn’t exactly know the man.’ She shrugged, unable to reconcile her emotional response, or her need to know more. Something intangible seemed to have gripped her mind and it didn’t appear that it was going to rest any time soon. She kissed her mum on the cheek, a kiss that spoke of forgiveness. A tear spilled onto Rowena’s face and Eva brushed it away, softly. ‘I love you mum.’
‘I love you too, sweetheart.’ Rowena pulled back gently and brushed at her skirt before sitting back down again. Eva sniggered lightly at the movement, cupped her mum’s cheeks, and placed a kiss on her head. ‘Now, tell me more about that girlfriend of yours. How is Rosa?’ Rowena asked
Eva swallowed hard. Startled by the personal question, she hadn’t planned to answer. She didn’t really know where to start. Had her mum asked her a couple of weeks ago she would have said she was fine; they were fine. Now though, she didn’t have a clear answer. ‘Rosa’s…’ Eva started, her eyes darting around the space, not lingering on anything in particular, and deliberately avoiding her mum.
‘Eva?’ Rowena pushed gently for an answer.
‘Rosa’s lovely. It’s not her, it’s me.’ She could feel her hands beginning to shake as she faced the truth. She started pacing the small room.
Rowena wriggled herself back into her seat. ‘What about you sweetheart?’ Rowena asked tentatively. Eva hesitated to speak, and stopped pacing. Her eyes began to water, and she pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stop the pressure from erupting again. Rowena felt her heart break as she watched. ‘I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘I had no idea.’
‘I just feel so lost mum,’ Eva said, through the well of emotion that had lodged itself in her throat. ‘I just can’t seem to…’ She struggled to find the words, and turned to stare out of the window. ‘You know I always had a thing for Anna?’ she blurted.
Rowena looked away from her daughter. She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear what Eva might need to say. She cleared her throat. ‘I thought you were over her,’ she offered, by some way of understanding.
‘I was… I am… but I don’t think I can take that sort of pain again. I’ve loved Anna since we were kids. When we left to come to Paris, and left her behind, I thought my world had collapsed...’
‘I…’ Rowena started.
‘No. It’s fine. I need to get this off my chest.’ Rowena released a long breath, waiting for Eva to continue. ‘I was only ten years old, but she was the second person to abandon me. The first was my… father.’ Eva turned to face Rowena as she continued. ‘I think I remember the night he left.’ Rowena’s attention piqued. ‘At least I remember an argument, the door slamming. I remember the birthday cake and I remember him not being there anymore. I didn’t understand it then of course. But I think I’ve always felt like something’s been missing ever since. When Anna came into my life that loneliness disappeared. We played together. She was my best friend; fuck, she was my only friend, and when we left London I felt totally isolated.’ She fidgeted her fingers. ‘I know there’s no logic to explain how I feel… I know what I should do, how I should behave. But that doesn’t stop me feeling like shit more days than not. And when I feel like shit, I drink.’ She shrugged and reached for her mug from the table, poured another coffee, holding up the pot to her mum who nodded. She filled her mum’s mug and returned the pot to its stand.
‘Do you love Rosa?’ Rowena asked, hoping the question wouldn’t make matters worse.
Eva looked up from her mug. ‘I think I do. I think that’s what scares me most. You know Anna and I had a…’ She searched for the words to describe their brief intimate fling, ‘a short time together. It wasn’t a mistake, but it wasn’t the right thing either. I love Anna, but I’m not in love with her and she’s not in love with me.’
Rowena sighed, an involuntary release of her relief, that Eva wouldn’t be destroying Anna and Lauren’s life. She couldn’t say she was sorry for Eva because she loved Anna like another daughter, and deep down she had always known that Eva and Anna just didn’t go together. She wanted them both to be happy, and in her mind, that wasn’t going to happen as a couple. And definitely not since Lauren and Emilie had entered Anna’s life.
‘I feel so much for Rosa, and it’s different from how I felt about Anna. But something stops me from getting really close to her.’
Rowena didn’t know what to do with the admission, unsure of the words that might help. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked, after a moment of pondering.
‘I don’t know. Christ, I don’t even know how to help myself,’ she said, in a more upbeat and slightly cynical tone. She smiled, somewhere between helplessness and hopeful, and sipped at her coffee.
‘What makes you happy? Rowena asked.
Eva studied the question as it reverberated around her mind, finding it strange that she didn’t have an answer. She rubbed at her temples and yawned. ‘Sorry, I’m tired,’ she said. ‘Bit of a shit night.’
‘I can see that sweetheart. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You look like you haven’t slept in a week. Perhaps you should take a break… find yourself, or something like that.’ Eva sniggered. ‘You know what I mean.’ Rowena flustered, frustrated at her inability to say anything of any use.
‘I haven’t got time for a break. Remember? I’ve got your right-hand woman up my ass at the moment,’ she said, teasing with a smile.
‘How’s it going with Carine?’
‘Well day one lasted about an hour in the office.’ Eva rolled her eyes. ‘She’s ordered me in for a lunch meeting today.’ She rolled her eyes again, but there was also the hint of a sparkle as she continued, ‘but it’s early days so I’ll let you know in another week.’
‘She means well, I’m sure,’ Rowena said.
Eva wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t want to worry her mum unnecessarily. ‘I’m sure’, she said, picking up her phone to check the time. ‘And on that note, I’d better get my head in the game and get going.’
Rowena stood, pulling Eva into her arms and holding her tightly. ‘You know where I am sweetheart,’ she said into her ear.
Eva pulled back and kissed her mum on the cheek. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine. It was good to talk, thanks.’ She winced as she caught sight of the message coming through on her phone, and held it up for her mum to see.
Don’t be late
‘See what you’ve signed me up for?’ she said, starting to laugh. Rowena chuckled and ushered her out the door.
‘Speak to Rosa,’ were the last words she heard before the door closed behind her.
If it’s not too late, Eva thought, as she stepped out into the rain.
9.
Eva hopped onto
the Metro, shaking off the rain, and took the short ride back into the city. Checking her phone, she broke into a light jog to get to the bistro to meet Carine on time. She was five minutes early, so when she stepped into the warmth and scanned the room her stomach dropped at the sight of the back of the blonde head pondering a menu. There was no mistaking its owner, who turned, as if by virtue of a sixth sense, and smiled at her.
‘Hi.’ Carine’s tone was smooth, kinder than it had been just twenty-four hours ago.
Eva’s shoulders dropped. She hadn’t realised she’d been carrying tension, but she felt herself relax, with the gentleness in Carine’s tone. She smiled and walked towards the table. Carine stood and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. She hadn’t even done that the first time around, Eva noted, feeling somewhat confused by the lingering feeling of the woman’s lips on her skin. They were softer than she expected, she mused, not that she had ever intended to think about Carine’s lips, but apparently her body had considered the point.
Eva cleared her throat, removed her coat and rested it over the back of the chair. ‘Hi,’ she said, taking the seat opposite Carine, aware that she had been as near as strip-searched by the woman’s eyes already. Her stomach was doing somersaults. It was the sensual sensation that she enjoyed: a feeling from which she felt at least some semblance of connection with the world. A feeling that gave her life. She picked up the menu in front of her and studied the options.
‘Thanks for meeting me here,’ Carine said, then dropped her eyes to read her own menu.
‘I didn’t think it was an option,’ Eva responded, more curtly than she had intended.
‘There are always options Eva.’ Carine glanced over the menu, locking onto Eva’s eyes, a slightly deeper resonance to her voice. ‘It’s not about what happens in life, it’s about what we do as a result of what happens,’ she continued, her gaze penetrating, her features emotionless.
‘I guess,’ Eva retorted. She had heard the phrase more than once in her lifetime, but dismissed it as a load of mumbo jumbo. Tiny lines appeared as Carine’s eyes smiled at Eva’s flippant response.
‘Anyway,’ she started, just as the waiter approached. ‘What will you have?’ she asked.
‘Chicken salad, and the house white.’ She closed her menu and placed it on the table with vigour.
‘I’ll have the same,’ Carine said, directing her words to the waiter, with a smile that would be sure to have him itching in his pants.
Eva sighed as she watched, flicked her fingers through her hair, and slumped back into her chair. ‘Do you always do that?’ she asked as the waiter departed.
‘What’s that?’ Carine asked, faking innocence. Eva noticed her eyelids flutter slightly as she spoke.
‘That,’ she said, pointing to Carine’s eyes. ‘Do you always seduce people when you speak to them?’
Carine started to laugh. ‘Don’t you?’ she countered.
‘No,’ Eva responded, defensively. This was fast becoming her stock response around the charismatic Parisian and she didn’t enjoy it.
‘Sure you do. You’re a woman. It’s what women do naturally.’
‘I don’t.’ Eva said, shaking her head.
‘How many women have you taken to bed?’ Carine asked, as if trying to make the point.
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘How many?’
‘I don’t know, why?’
‘And you did nothing in achieving that right? Nothing to attract or encourage them? Of course you did.’
‘That’s different,’ Eva contended.
Carine sat up in her seat. ‘No, it’s not Eva. It’s about you using your power to get an outcome you want. Worth remembering, because unless you realise that, you can cause some serious damage to other people.’ Carine picked up her phone to respond to a text. Eva watched, feeling stunned. Once again, she hadn’t expected the line of conversation Carine had taken them down. ‘Right, down to business,’ Carine said, placing her phone back on the table. ‘Do you know how much your mother’s business is worth?’ Have you seen the figures?’
‘No.’ Eva’s eyes lowered to the paperwork Carine was placing on the table. Eva had never involved herself in the financial side of the business; she’d never been interested.
‘Well you need to know. It might help you to decide what you want out of the next thirty-odd years of your life.’ Carine’s voice had shifted to something more formal, matronly even, and Eva wasn’t sure if that was worse than the seductive tone of earlier.
‘Right,’ Eva rolled her eyes. Carine ignored the insolence and continued. She placed a sheet of paper in front of Eva. ‘This is a balance sheet,’ she said. ‘This number, the one with a lot of numbers before the decimal point,’ Eva glared at her and Carine smirked before continuing. ‘This number is what the business is worth on paper, probably more if it were sold.’
Eva studied the seven-digit number for a long time, trying to register the significance of it. She wasn’t used to considering more than four digits in any transaction she made. She didn’t own a car, but when she had, it had been third or fourth hand and her flat was a gift from her mum for her twenty-first birthday. She felt nothing towards the big number. ‘So?’ she said.
Carine’s eyes closed a fraction and she released a longer breath than normal. ‘Two million Euros is a lot of money.’ Carine spoke slowly, accentuating each word.
Eva allowed the number to permeate. She couldn’t understand how, what appeared to her to be a small operation, had amassed so much wealth. It was a big enough number for her to be unable to relate to it. ‘It is,’ she said, unsure of where the conversation was heading.
‘Eva, this could be yours.’
Eva’s gut squeezed tightly as the reality dawned. ‘I don’t want it,’ she said, reacting instinctively to her body’s desire to shut down and run.
The waiter returned, and Carine pulled the paper back, slipping it into her briefcase. Eva picked up the carafe of wine and poured them both a glass as their salads were placed in front of them.
‘Looks good,’ Eva said, as if the last few minute’s conversation hadn’t happened.
‘Think about it Eva.’ Carine’s eyes had resumed their more seductive stance, and her smile was almost pleading. Eva took a long slug of wine, toyed with it in her mouth and swallowed hard. She didn’t quite know what to think about the proposition, but found herself nodding involuntarily. Carine raised her glass. ‘Cheers,’ she said.
‘Cheers,’ Eva said, clinking her glass, lost in thought. Bringing the glass to her lips she failed to notice that she had already emptied it.
Carine took a long sip of her own wine, topped up their glasses and picked at her salad. ‘There is a networking event I’d like you to attend with me on Friday evening,’ she said, not looking up.
Eva prodded a piece of chicken with her fork. She hadn’t attended anything of the sort before and the idea of it sent a chill through her. ‘I need to check if we’ve got anything planned.’
‘We?’ Carine asked.
‘My girlfriend and I,’ Eva responded, feeling less than confident about using a term that could be an ex- by the time she got home.
‘I didn’t realise,’ Carine said, with a devilish spark in her eyes. ‘Tell me more.’ She was starting to tuck into her salad, and Eva followed suit.
‘Her name’s Rosa and she’s a surgeon at the Américain de Paris. She’s originally from Corsica, and we’ve been together about six months now.’
‘Rosa.’ Carine rolled the name off her tongue. ‘Are you in love with her?’ she asked, watching Eva’s response carefully.
Eva began coughing as the chicken caught in her throat. Intimate conversations weren’t her strong point, but it seemed in the last few hours she’d bared her soul more than she had in a lifetime. She was feeling raw, exposed, and had no desire to share any more of herself, and especially not with this woman and not about her girlfriend. ‘I think that’s a conversation for another tim
e,’ she said, surprising herself at standing her ground.
‘Of course, sorry,’ Carine apologised, whilst prising Eva apart with her gaze.
Eva winced, unable to stop the sensitive parts of her body responding to Carine’s intensity. She picked up her glass in an attempt to numb her senses. ‘Did you get the chance to look at the work I sent across this morning?’ she asked, changing the topic.
‘Yes. We can pick that up back at the office, if that’s okay with you. I’d hate to spoil a good lunch.’
Eva couldn’t tell if the smirk was intended to be humorous, or if Carine was being facetious, so she didn’t respond to the potentially sarcastic comment and carried on eating in silence. She would find out soon enough what Carine thought of her work. That thought stuck in her throat, along with the chicken she was finding hard to swallow. She took a long swig of her wine.
*
Lauren leaned against the eucalyptus tree, taking in the rising mist across the valley, sipping at her now tepid coffee. Two fresh white roses lay on Petru’s grave, but it was her sister’s grave drawing her attention. The small plot was well tended; all the family graves were. She crouched down, pressed her fingers to the inscription on the cold stone, and felt the tears warm her cheeks. Hey sis, she said to herself. I miss you. She looked skyward to stem the flow; to try to take control of her irrational response, then, reminded herself of the words her therapist had imparted to her time and time again. Allow yourself to feel Lauren. Don’t be afraid of the sadness, it’s a good thing, and always know it will pass. She hadn’t realised until recently how much she had missed Corry: not having her in her life, not growing up together, sharing, supporting, caring. She’d never given her sister’s resting place any thought until now. Knowing - accepting, owning - the fact that her small body lay here, never having the chance to grow old. The thought ripped her heart into pieces.
Impressions of Emilie stole her attention momentarily and a wave of anxiety caused her to suddenly rise from the grave. She needed to keep Emilie safe at all costs. If anything happened to her, it would surely kill her. The fiercely protective streak energised her instantly, bringing her attention into sharp focus. She threw the remains of her coffee onto the damp grass and walked back up to the house. The comforting warmth as she entered the living room tempered the fire that had roused her, and she relaxed a little.