Opposites Attack: A Novel with Recipes Provencal (4 page)

“Let’s go back home and listen to music, Al-
ees.
I have not enjoyed a woman’s company so much in a long time.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It is true!”

When they returned home, his parents were still out. He drew her close again. “You know we are going to make love. This could be our only chance.”

Blame it on the wine, vacationitis, that sexy French accent, or his beautiful green eyes and seductive lips. Or just being angry at Nelson.

“Let’s go to my room and cuddle,” she said. “
That’s all.
”

It didn’t take long before it was clear cuddling was not going to be enough.

Alyce stumbled into the bathroom (from being inebriated, not from her sore leg—what sore leg?), relieved herself, and spied the bidet. But of course, she had to try it.

One handle was marked “C.” The other “F.” She wondered if “C” came from cold and “F” from a form of “fire.”

Her screams brought Julien to her door. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

Again she had a hard time walking, but for another reason. Wincing as she slowly sat on the bed, she croaked, “I need some ice. Now!”

His frustration over their thwarted lovemaking dissolved into hilarity. “Al-
ees
, hot is
chaud.
Cold is
froid.
”

A few minutes later, still choking on his laughter, he left her staring at the ceiling with a towel full of ice cubes between her legs.

“It’s not funny,” she yelled out to him. “And don’t you dare tell anyone!”

She knew he would.

Eventually, she hoped, she’d find it funny, too.

A light summer rain began to tickle the windows. She punched her pillow. She fought back tears. Would this loser leopard ever change her dumb spots?

Would she ever learn
any
French?

Would she ever stop missing Nelson? That seemed the most impossible of all.

And then Claire’s voice drifted into her head with the very first French expression she learned.

“
Tout nouveau, tout beau,
Al
-ees.
Tout nouveau, tout beau.
”

What is new, is good.

And she remembered it! It was a start.

4

Where’s Wacko?

Alyce was convinced a genius created the teaching system at MEF. Straightforward conjugating verbs on a blackboard would be followed by passing out lyrics to a song. Some of the words would be left out. As the song played, the students had to fill them in. From there they’d do a lesson in the textbook, then watch a video of people talking and try to figure out what they were saying. After 45 minutes, there was a short break and a change of classroom.

The constant variety didn’t make her a better student. It just broke up the misery.

There were letters you didn’t pronounce. Every word was masculine or feminine, adding another complicated layer to short-circuit her brain. Even the numbers were cuckoo. Like, 90 was
quatre-vingt-dix
, or four times 20 plus 10. Huh? An older, unattractive married guy, whom Alyce befriended only because he was American, said the French did things like that to weed out spies during wars.

With few computers at the school, it was hard to check her email. Was she ever surprised when she finally did and there was one from Nelson! As she read his words, a prickly heat started at the base of her neck and moved up around her ears.

Subject: I MISS YOU

From Nelson Mansfield

Alyce Donovan

My dear, sweet, beautiful Ally,

First let me say I’m so proud of you for what you’re do ing. I’m sure it’s not easy but you’ll be parlay-vooing in no time and it’ll drive me wild!

It’s weird, honey. I can’t stop thinking about you. Mother (who really likes you) said I should see a therapist, that there was nothing wrong with you. It had to be me. I’m making a lot of progress. I see how incredibly stupid I’ve been. And how I’ve let my mother control my life. I have to assert my independence. We even did a session together and she agreed to back off, though she claims she’s just being supportive. Yes, supportive of what SHE wants.

I’d love to come over and see you. Would you mind? I’ll understand if you never want to see me again. I hope that’s not the case.

Junior says hi.

Hugs and kisses?? N.

Alyce clutched her chest, blinked several times. Coming here worked! Just like his mother said it would.

She also couldn’t believe he was standing up to her.

Glorianna never called people by their nicknames (God forbid someone called her Glo or Glory). She never referred to the mother of Nelson’s son by any name at all, other than You-know-who. After Alyce tried to be nice to Carmelita and received hostility in return, there was no love lost on her end, either. But Nelson loved his son, was a good father (even if he did spoil the kid rotten), and she reasoned everyone’s going to have something unpleasant to put up with — after she thoroughly grilled him that he wasn’t still sleeping with Carmelita.

“Why does every woman I go out with think that,” he said, wounded. “Strap me to a lie detector. Junior is the result of
one night
of drunken sex when I was young and stupid.”

Nelson was an account exec for
Music World
magazine and often called on Alyce’s boss, Bernadette. For years, neither Alyce nor Bernie knew he had a son. One day, Alyce went into an ice cream shop in her Hoboken, New Jersey, neighborhood, and there he was—with an out of shape, well-endowed Latina woman in a tight zebra-print top, short skirt, and dangerously high heels. Between them was a young boy.

Who looked like the perfect blend of Nelson and this woman.

Alyce’s heart pounded with joy over seeing him (as it always did) and fear that all was lost.

The boy said, “Dad, I want another scoop.”

Yep, all was lost.

Nelson looked embarrassed for a moment. The woman smug.

“Uh, yes. This is my son. Nelson, Junior.”

The woman said, proud as a peahen, “I’m his mother, Carmelita.” Car-mah-
leeeee
-ta.

Alyce quickly shifted gears. “You know, the line is long and I’m in a hurry. Nice to meet you. Bye!”

The next day at work she consulted Bernadette. Bernie had fixed her up on countless horrible blind dates in an attempt to get her over Nelson.

“He comes from a lot of money,” she’d counseled early on. “He only dates heiresses, preppie girls, and six-figures babes.”

When she heard about Carmelita—after closing her gaping mouth—she said, “That explains why he’s still single. Where’s Wacko.”

Bernie said that whenever she met a guy who seemed like the perfect catch, she’d start looking for the nutcase lurking in the wings, like the way kids looked for Waldo in the
Where’s Waldo
books. They usually had one because those kinds of women always went for nice guys with deep pockets.

Her cue to run was the words: “I can’t seem to get rid of her.” Or “She won’t leave me alone.”

“He doesn’t want to be left alone! It’s too gratifying to his ego.”

As for Carmelita, Bernie shook her head a long time.

“She’s got his kid. She’s not going anywhere. And look at me. I’m 50, still single, and now wishing I’d put up with that skinny hemophiliac with the stutter who wanted to marry me. Go for it, kid.”

Did she ever. As soon as Nelson was sure Alyce could look beyond Carmelita, he was Prince Charming. When she lost her job and was expecting a commitment, he turned into a royal toad.

Now in France, she waited a whole day before responding to his email.

Hi sweetie,

It’s so great to hear from you. Of course I’d love to see you.

Now I’m in the home of the Devreauxs. Their Mediterranean villa is stunning—the complete opposite of the farm I was on. I’ve become good friends with the oldest son, Julien, who’s 22 and seems much older. His mother died when he was a teenager and his father remarried and had two more kids. He feels pretty left out, I guess. He thinks I’m funny because I’m so un-French. He speaks English so who am I to complain?

Love to Junior.

Yours, Alyce

P.S. You would’ve had a big laugh over my using the bidet and burning myself because I thought “C” stood for cold. It was for chaud (hot).

Subject: LMAO

You can be a real hoot sometimes. Remember when we went to the MTV awards and you drank all that punch you didn’t know was spiked and almost threw up on Justin Timberlake? And when you accidentally ate those doggie chocolates at my parents’ house? Or what about the time…don’t want to get into that in a company email. You know. In the Hamptons.

Anyway, I’d put you up in a hotel, but staying with a host family is key to learning the language. Just don’t let Julien give you any “private” lessons. I’d write more but it’s closing week for the magazine. I’ll work on dates to come see you. Can’t wait! Send me photos.

Love, N.

Subject: LMAO—NOT!

Oh, Nelson, I do love your emails, even if they’re short. I’ve been crazy busy, too, between school and ANOTHER switch in hosts. What happened at the Devreauxs? I went jogging with the father and he forced a kiss on me after staring at me while I did some stretching exercises. His lips were only on mine for a split second before I pushed him away so hard he fell, but it was long enough to catch that he tasted like an ashtray. And I told him.

Then I ACCIDENTALLY hit his wife in the mouth with a pétanque ball. They weigh about two pounds. I told her some women pay a lot of money to get their lips puffed up like that.

Then I ACCIDENTALLY pulled the showerhead out of the wall and that was the last straw. I’m not used to those wand thingies you hold. Especially while thinking naughty things about you ;)

I’m now in the apartment of a widow named Solange. She must be in her 60s but still looks great and is very stylish (she talked me into cutting my hair to just below my ears). Well, have to run. Classes are starting. I’d send a photo if my cell worked here. You’ll just have to use your imagination, darling. Alyce xxx

She did not mention that when she pulled the showerhead out of the wall she was really having naughty thoughts about Julien since he was standing right there. Another attempt to make love went, literally, down the drain.

With Nelson talking about coming over, it was just as well she was out of there.

The widow Solange was forever turning off lights Alyce wasn’t using and reprimanding her for leaving them on. Still, she was sure she’d found the perfect host. Her English was good, too. The word she seemed to know best was
shit.
Alyce thought it hilarious to hear this well-preserved, chic woman say it with her French accent—until she used it to describe everything about Alyce. She was particularly harsh when she had a glass of wine in her, which she drank at every meal except breakfast.

“The way you dress is
sheet.
”

“Your French is
sheet.
”

“Your cooking is
sheet.
”

Alyce found that drinking right along with her made her much easier to take. Also, she was right in her assessments. Perhaps Solange would be like the old count in
Sabrina
who took Audrey Hepburn under his wing?

Soon the widow was rummaging through her closet and insisting Alyce dump her “gym clothes” and wear her cast-offs. Most were summery dresses Alyce never would have bought for herself but she had to admit looked fabulous. Solange took her shopping for new shoes and showed her how to walk in them.

“One foot directly in front of the other, like you are on a tightrope. It
moooves
ze ass more.”

When Alyce was drawn to an item that didn’t meet with her approval, she uttered a curt, “As you wish.” It was an oft-used phrase Alyce now knew meant “I think you’re crazy, but go ahead and make an ass of yourself.”

Alyce refused to part with the diamond stud Nelson had given her that pierced her bellybutton.

“It is vul-
gahr
,” spat out Solange, catching the last syllable on the back of her throat.

“Maybe so, but it might be the closest I ever get to an engagement ring.”

“As you wish.”

When Solange deemed Alyce presentable, she dragged her out on the town—what little town there was—and gave her advice on how to get Nelson back.

“Keep making him jealous. If he does not respond it is a lost cause.”

In one café they saw the writer she’d encountered with Yves at the antique shop. He sized Alyce up again with a look of interest and distance. Solange lit up when their eyes met. When she realized he was with a woman with amazing long black hair they were soon out the door.

Alyce blurted out, “Did you go out with him?”

“That is a very rude question!”

Alyce took that to mean yes.

“Do you know Jean-Luc?” Solange asked as her thin legs and high heels pumped so fast Alyce could barely keep up with her.