in the living room
having a late-night cordial. Both looked upset, and for a moment, I thought that they
had already heard about Denise’s mother, but then I realized the time. It was nearly
twelve forty-five. They were upset at me.
Before either could speak, I began to relate what had happened. Their faces changed
quickly, especially Maurice’s, because he knew Denise’s mother.
“She will be okay?”
“Physically,” I said.
“Mon Dieu,” Uncle Alain said. “What a mess for you to be in so soon.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just very tired.”
“ D’accord . Go to bed, Emmie. We’ll look into everything in the morning.”
I nodded and went to my room. I felt as if I was walking in my sleep already and barely
got myself into bed with my eyes open. I thought I would have a hard time falling
asleep, but emotional exhaustion was just as tiring as the physical kind. I drifted
off quickly and didn’t wake up until I heard someone moving about in the kitchen.
I threw on my robe, went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and went
out to see Maurice sitting at the kitchenette having coffee and a croissant. Glancing
at the clock, I saw I had slept until ten.
“Alain went to work,” he said. “I told him I would call to let him know you were fine.”
“I can’t believe I slept so long.”
He poured me some coffee. He wanted me to give him more details about Denise and her
mother. I told him all I knew.
“I suspected much of that,” he said.
“I don’t know if Denise will ever talk to me again.”
“She will. Give her time. I have some things to do before I go to the restaurant.
Alain wants you to stay home today and tonight. He feels he needs to spend more time
with you. Comprends? ”
“ Oui . Merci , Maurice.”
“It will be okay. Soon you will be in school, and you will have much to do, will meet
many more people your age. Paris is a city. There are many stories to be told,” he
added, smiling. He hugged me and went off.
After I ate something and started to dress, the phone rang. I thought, hoped, it was
Denise, but she had obviously given Vincent my telephone number.
“Ça va?” he asked.
“I’m fine. How is Denise’s mother?”
“She’s better. Lots of regrets.”
“And Denise?”
“I had a nice talk with her this morning. She doesn’t hate you. You were right. I
was oblivious. It will be fine. When can I see you?”
“I have to spend more time with my uncle for a while,” I said.
“This isn’t a brush-off, is it? See? I watch American movies.”
“No. But I want to go slower.”
He laughed. “ D’accord . You know what I think it is, Emmie?”
“I’m listening.”
“Like good wine. You have to let it age a little. You sip. You don’t gulp good wine.”
I laughed. “You’re something else, Vincent. Maybe you are Paris.”
“No greater compliment. Merci .”
“À bientôt.”
“I will keep calling.”
“I hope so,” I said, and left it at that.
That night, Uncle Alain did take me to dinner. We had a warm and wonderful time. He
told me more about my mother’s family, and we made plans to see relatives. I asked
him if he had heard at all from Roxy. I could see he was hesitant.
“What? S’il vous plaît, Uncle Alain.”
“She calls often, Emmie, but she didn’t want me to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“She wants you to be independent of her. Don’t blame her. It’s the life she has known.
She thinks it’s best for you to be stronger.”
“It doesn’t weaken you to have family,” I said, and he smiled.
“Almost my exact words. Let her find her way back herself. She’s happy. I can tell
you that, but she’s frightened it won’t last and she’d be bringing you into her troubles
again.”
“I understand. I’ll be fine, Uncle Alain.”
“I know you will,” he said.
We walked back to his home arm in arm. Like all cities, much of Paris went to sleep
at night, but so
having a late-night cordial. Both looked upset, and for a moment, I thought that they
had already heard about Denise’s mother, but then I realized the time. It was nearly
twelve forty-five. They were upset at me.
Before either could speak, I began to relate what had happened. Their faces changed
quickly, especially Maurice’s, because he knew Denise’s mother.
“She will be okay?”
“Physically,” I said.
“Mon Dieu,” Uncle Alain said. “What a mess for you to be in so soon.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just very tired.”
“ D’accord . Go to bed, Emmie. We’ll look into everything in the morning.”
I nodded and went to my room. I felt as if I was walking in my sleep already and barely
got myself into bed with my eyes open. I thought I would have a hard time falling
asleep, but emotional exhaustion was just as tiring as the physical kind. I drifted
off quickly and didn’t wake up until I heard someone moving about in the kitchen.
I threw on my robe, went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and went
out to see Maurice sitting at the kitchenette having coffee and a croissant. Glancing
at the clock, I saw I had slept until ten.
“Alain went to work,” he said. “I told him I would call to let him know you were fine.”
“I can’t believe I slept so long.”
He poured me some coffee. He wanted me to give him more details about Denise and her
mother. I told him all I knew.
“I suspected much of that,” he said.
“I don’t know if Denise will ever talk to me again.”
“She will. Give her time. I have some things to do before I go to the restaurant.
Alain wants you to stay home today and tonight. He feels he needs to spend more time
with you. Comprends? ”
“ Oui . Merci , Maurice.”
“It will be okay. Soon you will be in school, and you will have much to do, will meet
many more people your age. Paris is a city. There are many stories to be told,” he
added, smiling. He hugged me and went off.
After I ate something and started to dress, the phone rang. I thought, hoped, it was
Denise, but she had obviously given Vincent my telephone number.
“Ça va?” he asked.
“I’m fine. How is Denise’s mother?”
“She’s better. Lots of regrets.”
“And Denise?”
“I had a nice talk with her this morning. She doesn’t hate you. You were right. I
was oblivious. It will be fine. When can I see you?”
“I have to spend more time with my uncle for a while,” I said.
“This isn’t a brush-off, is it? See? I watch American movies.”
“No. But I want to go slower.”
He laughed. “ D’accord . You know what I think it is, Emmie?”
“I’m listening.”
“Like good wine. You have to let it age a little. You sip. You don’t gulp good wine.”
I laughed. “You’re something else, Vincent. Maybe you are Paris.”
“No greater compliment. Merci .”
“À bientôt.”
“I will keep calling.”
“I hope so,” I said, and left it at that.
That night, Uncle Alain did take me to dinner. We had a warm and wonderful time. He
told me more about my mother’s family, and we made plans to see relatives. I asked
him if he had heard at all from Roxy. I could see he was hesitant.
“What? S’il vous plaît, Uncle Alain.”
“She calls often, Emmie, but she didn’t want me to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“She wants you to be independent of her. Don’t blame her. It’s the life she has known.
She thinks it’s best for you to be stronger.”
“It doesn’t weaken you to have family,” I said, and he smiled.
“Almost my exact words. Let her find her way back herself. She’s happy. I can tell
you that, but she’s frightened it won’t last and she’d be bringing you into her troubles
again.”
“I understand. I’ll be fine, Uncle Alain.”
“I know you will,” he said.
We walked back to his home arm in arm. Like all cities, much of Paris went to sleep
at night, but so
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