The Provence Cure for the Brokenhearted (42 page)

BOOK: The Provence Cure for the Brokenhearted
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Elysius shrugged. “She’s gotten some sun, thank god. You were so pale at the wedding.”

“Did something go wrong?” my mother asked. What was she seeing on my face? Melancholy? Homesickness? Or, worse, did she see longing?

“Well, yesterday was awful,” I said, patting my cheeks. “But I’m fine! We’re fine!”

“I ran away,” Abbot said contritely.

“You did what?” my mother said.

“Why did you run away, Abbot?” Elysius asked.

“There were a lot of factors,” I said. “But, aside from the ankle, he’s fine.” I gave Abbot’s shoulders a squeeze, meaning,
Let’s not get into it now
.

“Where’s Charlotte?” Elysius asked. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” I said. “She’s been a huge help. She’s at Véronique’s. They cook together like crazy.” Where was Adam? Maybe Elysius was wondering that, too. I walked toward the stairs.

“You do have a plan with this house, right?” Elysius asked, looking around at the kitchen.

“I’ve been trying to listen to the house,” I said. “But I think the house could use a new listener.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” my mother said. “You can’t weasel your way out of the job.”

I wanted to tell her that I was weaseling my way out of more than the job. I was going to weasel my way all the way back home.

“I’d go crazy living with it like this!” Elysius said.

“I hear that the ox is slow,” I said, “but the earth is patient.”

Elysius cocked her head and stared at me and then changed the subject. “We have to have a meeting,” she said. “You, me, Charlotte, and Mom. And then Adam. We’ll talk to him after …” I knew without a doubt that Elysius had written down an agenda. Just like the brunch where this entire trip was first proposed, they’d first talked and designed a strategy. Once again, I didn’t know what the agenda entailed. But I knew it would be compelling and hard to get out of. Charlotte and I hadn’t even been able to joke our way out of a dress shop with them. What would we be able to do in the face of a defining family moment?

“I want to see Véronique first,” my mother said. “I need to.”

“Can we reconvene in one hour?” Elysius said.

“Yes, yes, of course,” my mother said. Would she see Julien at Véronique’s house? Would she read his face as well and see something there? Or did Véronique already know
and would she simply tell her about Julien and me? For some reason, I didn’t want her to know—or anyone. My mother put her hand on her heart and said, “We’re here again, the three of us.” She looked at Abbot. “Anything can happen now. Did you know that?”

Abbot nodded. “The house stories,” he said. “I’ve heard them all.”

“Not all of them,” I said to my mother.

She looked at me sharply. “One hour,” she said. “And then we’ll talk.” My mother walked out of the house. She was gripping her pocketbook like it was a canteen and she was heading off on some kind of mission. I moved to the window and watched her march to the Dumonteils’ house. “She’s a woman with secrets,” I said to no one in particular.

My mother knocked on the back door, a formality we’d abandoned some time ago, and Véronique opened it. She and my mother hugged each other, swaying back and forth. It was a strange reunion—two people bound together by shared secrets that I would never really understand. This is what sisters are, I thought to myself. Elysius and I were girls who grew up together and knew what no one else could know about our existence. No matter how much I ever told Henry about my childhood, he would never know it like Elysius, from within it. My mother and Véronique shared this kind of bond—not of a fractured childhood, but of fracture nonetheless.

• • •

n hour or so later, my mother walked out of Véronique’s house into the sun just as Elysius emerged from our house, freshly showered. I was watching Abbot feeding the koi in the little fountain, wobbling on one foot, and trying to pet them. He missed the swallow.

“Where’s Charlotte?” my sister asked.

“She’s coming,” my mother said.

“Have either of you seen Adam?” I asked.

“He’s coming, too,” my mother said, taking a seat in one of the wrought-iron chairs. “Véronique was supposed to tell you that Julien is sorry he didn’t get to say goodbye.”

I felt a jolt. “What did you say?”

“Julien?” My mother over-enunciated his name. Now I was sure that Véronique had told her something. “I think you know who I’m talking about.”

“Julien was here?” Elysius asked, sitting in a chair next to my mother.

Julien had left. He was gone already. Where? I was stunned. He’d left so quickly. That was it. “When did he leave?” I asked.

“This morning.” My mother glanced at me quickly and then she called to Abbot. He looked up from the fountain. “Véronique needs someone to garnish something for her. Would you help?”

Abbot looked at me for permission.

I nodded. “Sure. Just don’t leave the house.”

Abbot started limping toward the house as Charlotte was coming out of it and walking across the yard. She was wearing
a loose black tank top and a long skirt, coming toward us with her head down, her hands knit together at her chest, like a monk who prays while walking.

“Where’s Adam Briskowitz?” my mother asked.

And just then the back door of the Dumonteils’ house opened. Adam’s old-man’s suitcase nudged out first and then he followed. He looked as he did the first time I met him, wearing his jeans, his Otis Redding T-shirt, Top-Siders, and his oversized glasses with the clip-on shades flipped up. I now took this to be Briskowitz’s traveling attire.

Charlotte stood in front of us now. She was nervous, glancing around quickly at everyone’s faces, trying to predict what might come her way. She reminded me of the swallow in the box before Abbot pitched it off the balcony.

“Where’s Adam going?” I asked.

“Home,” Charlotte said. “He’s grounded.”

Adam and Abbot met in the yard. “I’ll see you later, Abbot.” He pretended to shoot him with an arrow.

Abbot grabbed his shoulder, wounded, and let out a groan, staggered around, and then croaked. I didn’t like him even playing dead and was relieved when he popped up, gave a big wave, and quickly limped to the house.

Adam looked like he might cry. He flipped his shades down. He walked to us. “Sorry about the timing, but my cab is on its way. I’m going to meet it at the end of the driveway so it doesn’t miss the sign. It’s a very small sign.”

“It would be better if you stayed just for a little bit,” my mother said.

“So we can all talk,” Elysius added.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t,” he said. “I’ve got to catch a train and then a flight. It’s all been worked out by my parents.”

“But Adam,” I said.

“I know, I know. You don’t think I know?” he said. I wasn’t sure what this meant. “I need time to get my head together. I can’t even form whole sentences. I want to be a great father. I can do it, but I just can’t do this.” He waved his hand in a circle, indicating … the conversation, our family, France? “Not yet.”

“You seem to be forming sentences just fine,” my mother said angrily.

“Why are you leaving now?” Elysius asked.

“Seriously,” I said. “Tell us what’s going on.”

He put his suitcase down. “Abbot was lost and I couldn’t find him. Shit. This is a nightmare. I heard of this couple who left their kid sleeping in a car seat under a restaurant table. A very nice, smart couple. Ivy Leaguers. They just forgot and got up and left. That’s me. What if I can’t do this? I’m going to college in a few weeks as a philosophy major. Who can raise a kid as a philosophy major? I have to go home. I have to talk to my family.”

“He’s lost it,” Charlotte said to me. “He’s totally Briskowitzing himself.”

I was furious. As calmly as I could, I stood and grabbed Adam by the elbow and pulled him a little bit away from the others. “We’ll be just one minute,” I said.

“What is it?” Adam said.

“Look at me,” I said.

He paused and then lifted up the shades while still looking at the ground. I waited. He slowly raised his chin and met my eyes.

“You’ll get it together,” I said. “You’ll learn to be a better man because you’ll have to.”

He started crying and was embarrassed by it. My mother and Elysius were sitting behind me. I imagined their faces—perhaps tired, most of all. Here were all the women together, expected to fix this, to make it right. Adam glanced at Charlotte and whispered her name.

She shook her head. She couldn’t help him.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve got to go,” he said. He reached down and picked up his suitcase. “The cab might miss the turn,” he said.

“Adam,” Charlotte said. “Brisky.”

No one moved.

Finally, he turned and walked down the driveway.

harlotte took a seat in one of the wrought-iron chairs, too. Instinctively we pulled our chairs in to make a tighter circle.

“I’m so sorry he left,” I said. “He needs time.”

Charlotte was silent, her face expressionless and therefore beyond sadness. She shrugged. “Maybe we could go after him.” She wasn’t really suggesting it, more just pointing out the fact that life didn’t work that way.

“He’s really just a boy,” my mother said.

“And Charlotte’s young, too,” Elysius said. “Regardless of the situation, we can’t forget that.” This seemed to come from Daniel. Charlotte was his little girl, and I suspected that he’d urged Elysius to make sure everyone kept this in mind.

“Age is relative,” Charlotte said.

“In this case, your age has some very serious practical concerns,” Elysius said. “And those have to be addressed.”

“And I suppose you’re going to tell me how to address them?” Charlotte said defensively.

“I can’t do this if you’re going to be hostile,” Elysius said.

“She’s not being hostile,” I said. “She’s sixteen and pregnant and the father just walked out and she loves him.”

“Oh, please,” Elysius said. “Love! For shit’s sake.”

“Who’s being hostile now?” Charlotte said.

My mother stood up. “Listen to me. Elysius has offered to build an apartment onto the current structure of her house—a place where Charlotte can feel like she has independence. And Elysius and Daniel will pay for a baby nurse and then a nanny. Charlotte can still go to school. Daniel will still produce art. I’ll certainly help with the baby as much as possible, as I’m sure you will, too, Heidi. It will be a group effort.”

“And in the process, we won’t forsake all normalcy,” Elysius said. “Our lives will be able to go on. Charlotte will get her degree. She’ll segue to Florida State, which is close by, maybe even full-time.” Elysius smiled, proud of her plan.
“And we’ll make it possible for Charlotte’s mother to visit her instead of having to uproot the baby.”

“This sounds expensive,” Charlotte said.

“Money is no cure-all, but it does help,” Elysius said.

“Well, it’s a very nice offer, but I’ll pass,” Charlotte said.

Elysius arched her back. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll pass. But really, thank you so much. It was really thoughtful and generous.”

“Do you have an alternate plan?” my mother said.

I sat back and held my breath.

“I want to live with Heidi and Abbot.”

Elysius glared at me, and before she opened her mouth to say a word, I knew that she would launch into the same old argument—Charlotte as ingrate, and I would be her conspirator. My mother reached out to pat Elysius’s leg to calm her, but Elysius was on her feet. “I just offered to build you your own apartment! Your own place! And you’re saying no to that? Do you know how hard this is on your father and me? Do you have any idea?”

“I said thank you. It was thoughtful and generous.” Charlotte’s face had gone blank. She seemed to be reciting definitions from her SAT prep book.

Elysius turned to me. “I can’t believe you put this in her head. A new baby and you get to play the savior—that’s the idea, right? It won’t bring back the dead, you know!”

It felt like a slap. In fact, my cheeks burned. I felt hot deep in my chest. I couldn’t say a word.

“Heidi didn’t even say yes to it,” Charlotte said. “No one put anything in my head. It was my idea. All mine.”

My sister was wrong. This wasn’t about trying to bring Henry back. But maybe much else in my life was, making my sister as right as she was wrong. Undeniably so. I could pack up. I could go home. But I couldn’t go back. Nothing could bring back the dead. Still, what followed wasn’t an attempt to punish my sister. Maybe I was listening. Maybe I was feeling and connecting and the decision simply formed. “I’m willing to try,” I said to Charlotte.

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