“Vraiment remarkable,” he repeated.
She saw him look at his watch. “Thank you for stopping to say hello.”
He smiled as he asked, “Do you plan to come to the Camargue this weekend?”
“I’m not certain. We haven’t all talked about it, but I’m sure some of us will be there.”
He bowed his head slightly. “Hopefully we will meet again then. Enjoy your evening in Arles. À la prochaine et bonne soirée.”
Arianna’s eyes followed him as he took the stairs briskly and disappeared down a narrow street. She thought there was something almost old-fashioned about him. And intriguing.
The singing stopped a few minutes later. The woman was drinking water and talking to her dog as Arianna approached her.
As she stooped to drop euros in the open guitar case, Arianna’s voice was heartfelt. “Thank you. Merci. Muchas gracias. You are a beautiful singer.” She touched her hand to her heart as she held the woman in her gaze, hoping she got her message across.
The woman smiled warmly, saying nothing as she nodded her head. Arianna could not tear her gaze away from the deep pools of emotion that glimmered in the singer’s eyes. This was a face that told a story.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Noticing it was almost seven thirty, Arianna hurried the short distance to Place de la République. Dusk was beginning to settle across the square.
While she waited for the others, she took in the details of the fountain and the towering four-sided, tapered monolith. Maurice had told them part of the fourth-century obelisk was found buried under rubble and sand in the fourteenth century on the site of the original Roman circus, of which nothing of note remained.
Bertram had piped in during that conversation, adding, “The other part of the obelisk was discovered being used as a bench amongst the fishermen’s cottages in La Roquette.”
He went on to describe how it was pieced together and mounted here on a pedestal in the sixteenth century, and the fountain was installed in the nineteenth century.
Looking at it now, Arianna thought how she loved these stories that encompassed hundreds of years. It was such a big part of why travel in this part of the world was so special. She had a moment of regret that she and Ben had not taken more time to travel. Was work really so important we couldn’t have taken two weeks off?
Then she banished the thought and focused on the fact that now she was there, making her own memories.
Sitting on the edge of the basin, Arianna dipped her fingers in the cool water and was briefly transported to childhood memories in Greece. She smiled at the pigeons nestled above the bronze masks, now aged to greenish-blue perfection, through which water spurted.
Children’s laughter echoed around her as youngsters gleefully ran after the pigeons in the square. She remembered how she loved to chase birds through her own village so long ago.
As she watched Marti and Lisa walking across the square toward her, a text arrived on her phone from Cecilia saying she would be at the glacier in the Place du Forum at precisely nine thirty. Rest assured I will never be late for ice cream!
An agreed-upon urge for tapas and paella had Lisa googling for some dinner recommendations. They strolled the short distance to the Place du Forum, winding along meandering streets lined with closed shops. Evening commercialism had not gripped this small town. It was far more important to close the doors and shutters early and spend the evening wining and dining with family and friends.
In the growing nightfall, the bistro- and café-lined square buzzed with activity. Piquant aromas rose from an enormous pan of paella cooking streetside that would serve a crowd.
They decided a freshly made paella was more to their taste and continued their search. At the far end of the square and down a narrow alley, they discovered exactly what they wanted. They settled at a table on the stone terrace and ordered Spanish beer. A few tempting plates of tapas appeared quickly, and the waiter let them know the paella would take a half hour to cook on their wood fire.
“You can really see the Spanish influence around here, sí?” Marti asked rhetorically. She unfolded her napkin and passed one plate to Arianna and another to Lisa. “I could eat tapas every day.”
Hearing them speak English, the waiter lingered to describe what he had brought to the table. He appeared extremely pleased to show off his mastery of the language.
“Here you have pan a la plancha. It’s grilled bread, tomato with garlic rub, and olive oil. Next is Manchego cheese—so good to eat with that. Next is gambas al ajillo, sautéed shrimp, garlic, and olive oil with red pepper flakes. Nice and spicy. Last is empanadas, little pastries filled with onion, garlic, and potato.”
They looked at each other and wondered why they had ordered a main course.
“Well, we walked our asses off for the last few hours. Hopefully we built up an appetite!” Marti exclaimed as Lisa flashed her thumbs-up sign to Arianna.
“I know I did,” Arianna agreed. “I’m starving! Let’s dig into these!”
“Did you know there’s a whole system of underground galleries right below us, under this square? Les cryptoportiques!”
Lisa pulled up Google on her phone.
Marti continued, “We happened upon it by accident when we went into the hôtel de ville. That’s where the entrance is. You really feel like you’ve gone back to Roman times.”
“That’s the thing about this town, isn’t it,” Arianna said, her eyes lighting up. “History lives all around you. And it’s not too big, so it’s such an intimate experience.”
Marti and Lisa nodded enthusiastically. Marti asked, “What did you do after you left us?”
Arianna described her stroll up to the amphitheater. At first she glossed over the singer, but her voice betrayed her emotions.
“Wow, it sounds like that was truly memorable. Do you think she’s there every day?” Marti wondered. “Perhaps we’ll get to hear her.”
“Well, if I understood correctly, she’s in the same spot every single day,” Arianna told them. “Guess who stopped by as I was listening?”
They gave her a quizzical look.
Without waiting for an answer, she said, “Monsieur de Villeneuve.”
“Cooool,” Lisa murmured in the flat, unvarying tone she normally used—when she spoke. In the time the group had been together, Arianna hadn’t heard her utter more than a dozen sentences. But even so, she had never seemed disconnected from any conversation.
As she had just demonstrated once again, there was no question she was always the first with Google answers. Marti teasingly referred to her as Quick Draw McGraw or Speedy Gonzales, which without fail caused Lisa to grin.
“So what did he say?” Marti asked.
“He said she was a well-known character and agreed her singing had a special quality. Honestly, I don’t know when I’ve been touched so deeply by a voice.”
“His?” Marti teased.
Arianna felt a blush coming on again. “No, silly! The singer’s!”
“Intriguing, to say the least,” Marti said. “We’ve got to make a point of hearing her, Lis.”
The aromatic paella arrived steaming in a round, double-handled copper pan. The waiter set it on a tile in the middle of the table. The three women leaned in and inhaled the scent. Saffron added a distinct color and musky smell to the rice, which was mounded with shrimp, mussels, and squid, along with rabbit, chicken, chorizo, and assorted vegetables.
The serving was enormous and they looked at each other with a collective gulp. “We could be here for a while,” Marti announced.
As they indulged in their meal, the conversation became more personal. Avoiding doing most of the talking, Arianna encouraged the Californians to tell their story.
Marti proved herself an able raconteur. She had them all laughing at anecdotes about the joys and challenges of owning a restaurant. Lisa pulled up photos on her phone to show Arianna, as Arianna plied them with questions.
The waiter was a handsome bla
ck-haired young man with an olive complexion and deep, dark, brooding eyes. After he served them the paella, Marti commented, “Now he is what I call erotic, with a capital E! Oh là là!”
Lisa responded with an exaggerated wink. She held up her phone, showing off a photo she had sneaked of him.
They noticed Arianna’s puzzled expression.
“Are we confusing you?” Marti asked. “Make no mistake. Even though we are in love with each other, we still appreciate a great-looking guy. We both were even married to great guys at one point.” They looked at each other. Marti grinned. Lisa’s thumbs were up.
Arianna tried not to show her surprise.
“In fact, my ex is still one of my very best friends,” Marti said. “Lisa’s, not so much.”
Lisa gave a thumbs-down and shook her head as she shrugged her shoulders.
“Some battles you win, and some you don’t,” Marti said. “It took us both a while to figure out what we wanted in life. But when we met each other, there was no question for either of us. We’ve been together for fifteen years, and when we were finally legally able to marry, we were among the first in line.”
They leaned over and kissed lightly. Their mutual affection was obvious. Arianna liked these women.
Marti looked at Arianna. “So tell us about your family. Oh, and your Greek restaurant! I guess your husband is holding down the fort while you are here, right?”
Arianna had a moment of indecision. Hesitation showed in her eyes.
Marti reached over and patted Arianna’s arm, obviously sensing something amiss.
Then her voice filled with regret as she said, “Shoot! I’m sorry. I can see you’re not comfortable with my question. Is there something wrong? Um . . . but . . . that question doesn’t help either, does it? You don’t have to say anything. Feel free to change the subject. I tend to blurt things out. Right, Lis?”
Lisa rolled her eyes and made a face that had them laughing and eased the awkwardness.
The waiter arrived at their table to light some candles, and Arianna appreciated the delay.
When he had gone, she looked down for a moment, made a decision, and began to speak. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m all right . . . really . . . well, not exactly, but I have to stop holding this in. Juliette drew it out of me the other day. I know I should get the facts out on the table.”
“Only if you want to,” Marti said. Lisa indicated her agreement.
And so Arianna gave them the short version of Ben’s affliction and how this was her first attempt to move forward on her own. “I’m not looking for sympathy. I hope you understand. I’ve been struggling with finding my way back to the art that was such a part of my life . . . struggling to find lost pieces of myself, really.”
She reached for her glass and finished her drink.
Marti got up and gave Arianna a hug.
“I’m sorry if I put you on the spot,” Marti apologized.
“You didn’t.” Arianna pursed her lips for a moment and brushed her fingers through her bangs. She spoke softly now.
Her eyes searched her new friends’ faces. “I have to get over this hurdle so I don’t keep feeling like I’m hiding something. I’m just not sure how to do that.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Well, let’s start by having another beer or something,” Marti said. “And some more paella, please.”
Arianna agreed to both. Lisa served another portion to each of them. They all commented on how much they were eating—and enjoying every morsel.
As they ate, they deliberated about how life could be cruel at times. Marti spoke while Lisa supported her thoughts in her usual manner.
“If it’s of any help, we struggled with change in our lives too. Y’know, I have a feeling we’ve experienced some of the same emotional journeys. It all centers around grief, loss—maybe even fear—and learning to move forward to become more authentically who you are.”
Arianna looked at Marti and Lisa and could feel the strength they shared. She wanted to hear their story. “Talk to me, Marti. Tell me what you think I should hear, please.”
“Well, it’s not a matter of should . . . but sometimes we really are able to get stronger through another woman’s experience. I know I had friends whose stories were incredibly helpful when I was struggling—and believe me, for a time I really floundered.”
Lisa nodded, her eyes bright with emotion. She clearly was relating to every word.
“When I finally admitted to myself that I was gay, I was married to the greatest guy in the world. Seriously . . . he still is my best friend, along with his amazing wife. He even came with me to tell my parents. That’s how great he is.”
Lisa pulled up a photo of Marti, her ex, and his wife of thirty years and passed it to Arianna. Marti looked at it too and smiled. “I feel so fortunate to have them in my life. In our life. They love Lisa too.”
“That’s a good story, Marti,” Arianna said, handing the phone back to Lisa.
“But can you imagine how frightened I was?” Marti asked. “I was afraid of hurting him, my parents, my friends . . . and it was back when society was not as open and accepting as it is now. I had to give up the dreams I thought I had about babies and family. My future became a big black hole. I’m guessing that’s how you see your future.”
“Oh, Marti, I can feel how frightening that must have been,” Arianna murmured. “I hear what you lost . . . and yet see what you gained, as you say, your authentic life . . .”
Arianna looked at Lisa. “And you found the right life too. You both did. And you’re right, I feel like I’ve not only lost Ben, but I’ve lost my future. That’s why I say I feel like I’m stuck in the ‘now.’”
Marti’s sympathy tempered her voice as she continued. “The big difference in our stories is that your life was right for you. And that’s a bummer. That’s so not fair . . . for you or for Ben.”
Arianna was nodding slowly, taking it all in. Lisa was looking down, texting wildly.
“The lives we were leading were not right for us,” Marti said, “and we had to figure that out and then make the change. We had to learn to be honest in every way.”
Marti picked up the water pitcher and refilled their glasses. Arianna practically gulped hers down. Her throat felt parched, partly from the spicy meal but also from the emotionally charged conversation. But she knew this was good for her to hear.
“What we all have in common is how we move forward,” Marti suggested. “As I began to consider the rest of my life, it occurred to me I had to give up the pictures I had of my future. I had to create new pictures, a new way of being me. That’s how I see your challenge.”
Their phones dinged as Lisa messaged them. Rejection. We had a lot. We were judged, and you will be too. Believe in yourself. Believe in the choices you make. Make them fearlessly. Right, Marti, my love? That’s how we got through.
“Everything you say truly speaks to me,” Arianna assured them. “I know I will be judged by some. And I have to get over my fear of hurting Ben. He will never know what happens to me from here on out. Then I have to try to let myself be open to possibilities . . . to try and create some pictures for my future. I get it. I’m just not sure I can do it . . . and . . . if it’s right to do it while he is still alive.”
Marti’s voice cracked as she said, “He’s alive . . . but he’s gone. He’s gone. I hope you forgive me for being blunt.” She reached for Arianna’s hand, and their eyes remained locked.
Arianna nodded wordlessly.
Marti continued in a hushed voice. Their hands remained clasped. “You need to accept that, and I can only imagine how difficult that must be.”
“I know. I know,” Arianna whispered, her lips barely moving.
“Arianna, even if you can’t see it yet, it sounds like you’ve made all the right decisions so far, as difficult as they’ve been,” Marti said, her eyes conveying respect and sympathy. “Your family has been enormously supportive, from what you’ve told us. T
hat’s wonderful, and such a help.”
“I’m grateful for them, no question,” Arianna agreed as the two women shared a look of understanding and unclasped hands. “And I’m grateful for the compassion and straight talk you are both sharing with me.”
Marti and Arianna smiled warmly at each other. Lisa looked down, nodding.
The sparkle in Marti’s eyes dimmed, and she looked thoughtful. “Crisis strips us of everything we think is important.”
“It narrows your focus,” Arianna agreed. “I certainly learned that.”
The quiet that rested among them for a few moments was almost calming. Each woman was lost in her thoughts.
The light returned to Marti’s eyes. “But there’s a positive outcome to crisis. Once we are stripped of everything superfluous, we’re left with all we truly need in our lives.”
“And I guess that’s what I’m waiting to discover,” Arianna agreed.
All three women nodded slowly and then raised their glasses.
“Thank you both for this. You’ve already helped me, and I know this conversation will resonate with me for a long time.”
“Let’s go have some ice cream . . . the universal panacea,” Marti said, waving to get the waiter’s attention. “Cecilia just texted she will be there in fifteen minutes.”
They all put their thumbs up as the waiter arrived with the bill. Marti and Lisa gave him the once-over again as he walked away from their table. Arianna smiled.
As they made their way through the crowded square to the glacier, Marti gently slipped her arm around Arianna’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for all you’ve been going through. It must be torture.”
Arianna turned her head and gave Marti a grateful smile. “I’m glad you encouraged me to talk about it. It helps.”
She thought how it seemed easier to tell her story to complete strangers. Talking about it with friends or family was much more difficult because she was unable to avoid their pain as well as her own.
In many ways, I hurt even more for my children. They’re losing their father when they still should have so much more time with him. A mother is supposed to help her children when they hurt, and I can’t.
Drawing Lessons Page 12
