HAGEN: 1. Revelations

by Jadhe HAMILTON

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised.

  They no longer used formalities when addressing one another. Familiarity seemed much more... natural.

  “I live one hundred yards from here,” replied Victor with a smile that made her blush. “I was taking a walk and I saw you.”

  “What was the probability of that happening...”

  “Life isn't about probability Tara.”

  Tara held her breath. He remembered her name and spoke with disconcerting confidence. The more she listened to him speak, the more she felt herself falling in love. Could it be that he came here just for her?

  “Have you had lunch?” she asked as she sat up straight in her chair, attempting to appear in command of herself.

  “Is that an invitation?” Victor teased, looking into her eyes.

  “Sort of...” she replied, smiling back at him.

  Since his arrival, her body had been reacting in troubling and unfamiliar ways. She felt herself shivering and blushing. Her breath was shorter and her movements clumsier. Victor’s aura completely fascinated her.

  “It’s my treat,” he exclaimed in a mischievous voice, as he grabbed a menu from the table next to them. “I sensed that you weren’t feeling very well. Bad news?”

  “How could you tell?”

  “Oh... It wasn’t difficult. I saw the sadness in your eyes when you were walking to the table.”

  Embarrassed, Tara lowered her eyes as her disappointment came back to the surface.

  “I didn't get the promotion I was hoping for,” she explained honestly.

  “Is that why you're so upset?”

  “I sacrificed five years of my youth for a position that’s just been given to someone else.”

  “The past is the past,” replied Victor, putting down the menu and looking her in the eyes. “But the present belongs to you. What are you doing this afternoon?”

  “Working.”

  “Not anymore!” he exclaimed, waving to the waiter. “I'm taking you for a walk through Paris.”

  Totally taken by him, Tara had no intention of declining. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to accept. Her whole body, and especially her heart, longed to spend the afternoon with him. As for the Tara who enjoyed wearing herself out at work, even she had no desire to go back to the office. Moreover, she had no meetings with her team this afternoon and no clients to see either, which was a rare event in her senior manager schedule. And so, it was decided, she would spend the rest of the day with him.

  As Victor spoke to the waiter who listened attentively, she looked at him with eyes full of admiration and gratitude.

  “Two glasses of champagne please,” ordered Victor. “The lady is celebrating the beginning of a brand-new life.”

  He turned to look at her as he pronounced these words, still exhibiting his remarkably charming smile. Tara, dazzled by his presence, was totally unaware of the wonderful pink hue that had just colored her cheeks.

  They toasted to the afternoon away from the office and enjoyed the best dishes the restaurant had to offer while chatting about their respective lives. Victor, who wanted to know why Tara was so upset, became interested in Cesucom and her career as a consultant. He had all the time in the world he said, as he was accountable to no one. Tara, who wasn't sure she really understood, simply nodded in admiration. Victor was obviously a free man.

  After lunch, he offered her his arm and took her for a stroll on the quays of the Seine where they talked for hours. While the Bateau-Mouche they had embarked upon floated by the most beautiful monuments of the French capital, she told him about the death of her parents seven years earlier, and about her responsibility towards her younger sister Emma and also to Julie, her little niece. As for Victor, Tara understood that he was an established Business Angel and that in addition to his investments, he also worked with his family for the common welfare of the people.

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked curiously.

  “We own a mansion near the Bon Marché. We turned it into a reception center where we take care of our guests as if they were part of our own family. I'll take you there one day,” he promised, putting his hand tenderly on hers.

  Tara smiled at him, infatuated. She was willing to lose her job a thousand times over if it meant spending another afternoon with him.

  With the winter season, night fell quickly. She didn't want to leave him, but her sister was waiting for her in the 9th arrondissement to celebrate her twenty-second birthday.

  “I have to go,” she announced regretfully, stopping in front of the Pont des Arts.

  “Are you sure?” Victor asked, turning to her and holding her by the waist.

  He didn't want her to go. Tara felt her heart racing as a shiver ran down her body from head to toe. He was so close to her. She felt his tender gaze contemplating her with admiration. Could it really be true that such an attractive man was hanging on to her as if she were the eighth wonder of the world?

  “When will we see each other again?” he asked, pulling her closer to him.

  Their two bodies were almost touching. He was about to kiss her. Tara, longing to feel his divine lips on hers, forgot to respond. Victor smiled while gently bringing his face closer to hers.

  Trembling, she closed her eyes and approached him. An instant later, an electric current shot through her body making it tremble, as Victor's lips touched hers. They were soft and tender, like their kiss. At that moment, nothing else around them existed.

  Then, she felt Victor slowly move away as he lovingly grasped her hands and looked into her eyes:

  “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Nothing,” replied Tara, who was lost in his gaze.

  “Great, I’m inviting you to dinner then. Let's meet at 8 p.m. at the Saint-Michel fountain.”

  Feeling fulfilled, she acquiesced with all the innocence of a woman in love for the first time. She would be at the Saint-Michel fountain 8 p.m. She wouldn't miss it for anything in the world.

  A few minutes later, she was sitting in the taxi that was taking her to her sister's house. Lost in her reverie, she was only vaguely aware of the stone monuments that were passing before her eyes as the taxi continued on its route. She recalled every detail of the magical afternoon she had just spent with Victor. She would have loved to remain wrapped in his arms all night, but she knew that her sister Emma and her niece Julie were waiting for her.

  Since the death of their parents, Tara missed no opportunity to reunite her little family. There were only three of them, but they were determined to stay very close. When their parents died, Tara had left her sister and niece the apartment they had inherited. Emma, who had gotten pregnant at seventeen, hadn’t had the same career opportunities as she had had. Not having been able to continue her studies, she was now forced to take on various odd jobs without ever being able to commit herself fully, as she wanted to have time to take care of her daughter too.

  Thus, when the taxi dropped her off on rue des Martyres, Tara took the time to buy a bouquet of peonies and go to the best pastry shop on the street to buy Emma's favorite cake, the St. Honoré. With her arms full, she ran towards the building and climbed the steps four by four, up to the fourth floor. When she finally reached the landing, she was out of breath.

  Without even knocking, the door of the apartment slowly opened: Julie, at the age of four, had recognized her aunt by the sound of her stilettos.

  “My little sweetie!” cried Tara, throwing her arms around her niece in a big bear hug.

  “Look auntie!” Julie exclaimed, showing off her outfit.

  The little girl with platinum blond hair had dressed up specially for the occasion. Happy to celebrate her mother's birthday with her aunt, she had decided to wear her Raspberry Fairy costume. Her big blue eyes glowed under the warm light of the lamp in the hallway. Her cheeks, rosy by the joy of welcoming her aunt while wearing her favorite disguise, succeeded in transforming her into a little red raspberry.

&nbs
p; “My, how beautiful you are!” exclaimed Tara, embracing her with love.

  “And look!” whispered Julie, showing off her silver eyelids.

  “Makeup!” Tara exclaimed amused.

  “Yes, but just a little bit,” warned Emma, who had just entered the room.

  Tara stood back up. Her sister had lost weight. Her face was marked and her eyes looked sad and tired. Her long platinum hair was tied in an austere bun. She wasn't wearing make-up which accentuated the dark circles under her big blue eyes. However, despite the consequences, she had decided to set her problems aside for the evening and have a good time. Still speaking to her daughter, she continued:

  “Julie, I already told you to never open the door by yourself. That’s Mommy's job. Hi Tara, thanks for coming so quickly. I see you were able to get away from work early today.”

  “Oh, it's a long story… I'll tell you about it later. Here you go, happy birthday, sis!”

  Emma looked at the flowers and smiled.

  “You know I love flowers...”

  “And St. Honoré cakes too...”

  Emma's face lit up.

  “Thank you, Tara! You're perfect as always. I'll put it in the fridge.”

  “Wait, I have this for you too...”

  Discreetly, Tara handed her an envelope which Emma guessed contained a check.

  “You didn't have to do that!” she exclaimed uncomfortably.

  “It's not for you,” Tara lied. “It's so you can take good care of my niece!”

  Emma smiled and hugged her tightly, moved by her thoughtfulness. Seconds later, Tara was putting the cake away in the fridge while Emma was busy putting the bouquet of peonies into a beautiful crystal vase that once belonged to their mother.

  She and Julie lived in a beautiful Haussmann-style apartment. Almost completely redone, the walls were immaculately white and decorated with molding. The light-colored parquet flooring extended throughout the apartment, except in the kitchen and bathroom, which had cream and orange Mediterranean tiled floors. As in most Haussmann-style buildings, the windows were over six feet high. Lamps were placed everywhere, bathing the apartment in a soft, warm light. The place was majestic, thanks to all the furniture left by their parents.

  At the dinner table, it was Julie who monopolized the conversation. Emma seemed too tired to partake in the discussion. Meanwhile Tara, who saw her niece far too rarely, was happy to listen to all her kindergarten gossip.

  “Today we drew without lifting our pencils!” exclaimed Julie, looking into Tara's eyes as if it were a very important achievement.

  “Wow! Did you bring your drawings home?”

  “No, they were my first ones... they weren't very pretty...”

  “But on Monday,” Emma reminded her, “you're going to bring home some lovely drawings.”

  “Yes, I will! With lots of colors! And prettier than Bastien's drawings...”

  “Bastien is her boyfriend,” Emma explained.

  “He's not my boyfriend anymore!” cried Julie. “I don't want to have a boyfriend, boyfriends aren’t fun! They’re useless and they follow you around everywhere ...”

  “She's in love with another schoolmate,” clarified Emma as she cleared the table.

  “That’s not true!” shouted Julie. “Anyway, tomorrow, Friday, I’m telling Bastien that he can’t be my boyfriend anymore...”

  “Oh yes, because she also learned the days of the week,” Emma continued, piling up the small cake plates.

  “Is that true?” Tara asked with interest.

  “Yes! Today we learned the days of the week. And today is Thursday! Tomorrow is Friday, after tomorrow is Saturday, after after tomorrow is Sunday, after after, after tomorrow is Monday, after after after after tomorrow is...”

  “Great! Well, I know somebody who's very tired and going to bed right now,” interrupted Emma while grabbing her daughter to take her to her room.

  “Oh no!”

  Julie was upset. Tara smiled: the one who was tired and needed to go to bed was Emma, not her daughter. Nevertheless, Julie was in bed within minutes while Tara tidied up. As she finished with the dishes, her sister joined her in the kitchen and slumped down on a chair. She seemed exhausted.

  “How are you?” she asked, almost yawning.

  “I'm fine,” replied Tara amused. “You on the other hand, you look exhausted.”

  “You don't say!”

  “How are things going with Julie?”

  “Oh, you know, she's adorable. And I realize how lucky I am to be young because it's amazing how much energy those little monsters can take out of you.”

  Tara held back her laughter as she rinsed the last plate.

  “What about your love life?”

  “Oh that! That's a whole different story. There aren’t many men my age who don’t run away the second they hear the words “single mother”! And Julie's father is no exception! I was four months pregnant the last time I saw him...”

  Tara had finished cleaning up. She retrieved her glass of wine and sat down with her at the beechwood table.

  “What about the florist training you wanted to take?” Tara said jovially. “When are you starting that?”

  “The day I can afford a nanny!”

  “I already told you that I can take care of Julie...”

  Emma looked at her in disbelief before bursting out in laughter:

  “Please, Tara!” she laughed. “You work so hard that even your cat never sees you.”

  “You're exaggerating.”

  “Barely,” teased Emma. “Besides, I’d need money to open a flower shop after the training. Right now, I'm not even close to what I would need.”

  “I can help you if you want. We can be partners.”

  Again, Emma burst out laughing. She couldn't believe it. Tara was already working so hard. She'd never have time to start a business with her.

  “You love your job way too much to come and work with me,” she concluded, hanging her head back, attempting to relax.

  Tara lowered her eyes to the hand she had carelessly placed on the table. Emma’s last sentence had moved her heart. She thought back to the promotion that had been awarded to Nicolas as she now stared at the grooves of the table, distracted by her contemplations:

  “You know, it's not so easy at work anymore... They gave the associate position to one of my colleagues. Now I'm wondering if I'm even going to stay at Cesucom...”

  Emma sat up straight while looking at her sister with an apologetic face. She who had followed her sister’s progress like it was her own, understood her pain:

  “Tara...”

  “Don't worry,” she interrupted as she sat up straight. “It's no big deal.”

  She put on a forced smile to reassure her little sister. Emma smiled back, even though her own heart felt miserable too.

  Understanding that Tara didn’t want to talk about it, Emma changed the subject and declared in a teasing tone, though not without minor reproach:

  “No offense sister, but I don't think this was a very fun birthday for a 22-year-old girl...”

  “Do you want to go out?”

  “If only you knew how much.”

  Tara smiled. Today, when she was feeling at her worst, an angel named Victor came down from heaven to pull her out of her misery. Now it was her turn to do the same for her sister:

  “Do you have a babysitter?” she asked in a cheerful voice.

  “She’s only one phone call away, and I know she can be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Tara didn't have to say it twice. No sooner had her words been spoken than Emma had propelled herself out of her chair and energetically grabbed her phone. She was unrecognizable. The mere prospect of going out had turned her back into a girl of her age.

  She called and asked the babysitter to come over as soon as possible. In the meantime, she got ready, letting out her long blonde hair, putting make-up on her big blue eyes and slipping into a brigh
t red dress that perfectly molded her young, slender body. After two or three drops of perfume, she was ready.

  Leaning against the frame of the bathroom door, Tara had watched her get ready, impressed. She could never have gotten ready so quickly.

  “When you become a mother,” explained Emma, putting away her make-up, “you learn to get ready in a minimum amount of time! I'll call a taxi, let’s go!”

  Tiptoeing into her daughter’s bedroom, she gave her a kiss before giving the final instructions to the babysitter who had just arrived.

  Emma was so excited that Tara couldn't resist her enthusiasm. They laughed their way down the street like two teenaged girls, released into the wild and free world of the night. Emma was all dressed up. She hadn't been out in months and had been looking forward to this moment. At last she would get the birthday present of her dreams!

  “Where do you want to go?” Tara asked, turning to the queen of the evening.

  “To a beautiful bar with great music!” Emma exclaimed, turning a half-pirouette, full of joy.

  “All right.”

  Tara knew where she would take her.

  “Hotel Costes,” she said, as she closed the taxi door.

  The car departed. Emma, happy as a child, laughed out loud as she admired the Parisian monuments as they drove by. They were all lit up by the orange-colored light of the street lamps, making them look even more spectacular.

  The driver stopped on rue Saint-Honoré in front of a beautiful sign. Outside, the men and women were dressed as if they were attending a gala, which testified to the reputation of the bar. Emma was dazzled by the soft red-orange lighting and the beautiful tapestries that adorned the walls, entering the bar as if she were in Ali Baba's cave.