by Lorna Lee
Joe nodded and explained in much more detail than either Gratien or Meri wanted to know about plumbing. “I git a good feelin’ knowin’ I made somethin’ work with my own two hands. If I git into a union, the pay is pertty good, too.”
Gratien had to translate Joe’s answer for Meri.
After Meri heard Joe’s answer in French, she nodded, satisfied he would be a good provider.
Then Joe asked a question. “What you plannin’ on doing now the war’s over?”
Meri raised and then lowered her eyebrows. What’s he really asking? “I come Paris long time ago from Finland. Look to work in, ah… maison de couture.” Meri motioned as if threading a needle and sewing then pointed to her dress. Joe nodded. “Work no come. Paris no for me. America, maybe better place for me?”
“Well, America’s where I’m headed…um, going.” Joe said after listening to Meri’s halting English.
Perhaps it’s where I’m going, too… Meri took a sip of wine and smoothed her skirt. She smiled coyly at Joe.
Joe, who was smiling the whole time, just smiled more. “Say, you hungry? My belly could use some chow.”
Gratien translated this time, “Joe asked if you’re ready for lunch.”
“Oui. He does seem like a gentleman.”
The old man chuckled. Gratien could not help himself. He was more than a translator; he was a matchmaker.
§
The first lunch date was a success by Meri’s standards. Joe wanted to see her again in a month. After the second lunch date, he arranged to see her in two weeks. Gratien helped bridge the communication gap so he could buff away Joe’s rough edges.
Much to her surprise, Meri looked forward to her time with Joe. The more she got to know him, via Gratien’s sculpting of him, the less objectionable he appeared to her. His round head and large facial features gave him an amusing air enhanced by his easy laugh and ready smile. Joe’s a lighthearted man. He’s not easily bothered or angered. He’s very well-mannered, too. I could do a great deal worse.
By November, they had gotten serious about each other. She still hadn’t told Joe about her age or about Jeannine. Gratien urged her to be honest with Joe, but Meri refused. “I want to be sure he’s committed to me and to bringing me with him to New York City before I tell him about Jeannine…and my age.”
“How can you be sure he’s, as you say, committed to you?” Gratien wiped down the bar as he spoke. He stopped wiping. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Having sex is the only way to make sure Joe is mine. How can I make it happen again…the right way? The romantic way? Nearly a year had passed since Joe and Meri had been intimate, or at least since they were in bed naked together—under vague, awkward circumstances. She still lived at the boarding house, which meant they could not have a romantic tryst there. Joe lived in some kind of communal barracks. Sex between her and Joe would not happen in an army camp. Scheming a passionate interlude to ensure Joe was serious about her took up an inordinate amount of Meri’s mental energy.
The couple spoke English in short sentences since Joe had a harder time learning French than Meri did learning English. Somehow they eventually managed to understand most of what each other said without Gratien’s help. They relied on Gratien, however, to translate long sentences. Gratien did not mind. “I have grown quite fond of both of you. I want to help you out.” He told both of them. I hope when I figure out a plan to seduce Joe, Gratien will keep his promise to help.
In late November, Joe told Meri (through Gratien) he heard rumors his regiment planned on shipping out sometime in late January or early February, 1947. “Come to America with me, Meri.”
“America?”
“Yeah, America. I was th—” He did not get a chance to finish because Meri smothered him with hugs and kisses.
Gratien tapped Meri on the shoulder. “Are you going to tell him?”
Meri shooed him away.
§
Joe surprised Meri by showing up at the boarding house the day after he asked her to come to America with him.
In his best French, he said to the stern woman who answered the door, “Here? Is Meri Vaarsara?”
Meri sat in the communal sitting room having tea before her shift started at Le Bonaparte. She heard Joe and went to the door. “It’s fine, Madame. I know this man. He’s a very good friend. A respectable man.” Meri played the role of a young girl still at home and the owner of the boarding house, her strict Mamma.
“Very well, Meri. You know my rules about gentleman callers.”
“Oui, Madame.”
The large woman stepped aside while Meri grabbed Joe’s hand and pulled him into the house. Joe had a silly, confused smile glued to his face the entire time.
“What’s happenin’?” Joe said in English.
“Madame not like men.” She smiled at him and his absurd grin. A year ago I would have been disgusted by this man. Now, he seems so charming and likable. Is it only because he lives in New York City? Meri had ruminated about this countless times. She simply did not have an answer. “Anyway, why you here?” Meri asked Joe, still holding his hand as they sat on one of the couches in the parlor.
“I take you this.” He spoke with the big eyes of a little boy wanting praise for his accomplishment, his French as comical as the man butchering the beautiful language.
“No, Joe. Speak English.” Meri nearly laughed at him.
“Okay.” Relief washed over him. Meri could feel him relax. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here. Take this.
They both looked at the envelope, which rested on his lap.
“What it is?”
“I want to say this right. Where’s Groucho when you need him? I don’t want you to take this the wrong—”
“Mon Dieu! Too fast! Too many words.” Meri shook her head and put her hand over his mouth.
He took her hand off his mouth and kissed her palm. “That was stupid! I’ll try this again, only slower.” He gazed at her, adopting a serious face. “You’re coming to America with me, right?”
Meri nodded her head, not taking her eyes off Joe’s thick-spectacled eyes.
“I figure, um think, we should get hitched, um, married.” He gulped before saying the word “married.”
Meri noticed sweat beading up around Joe’s ample forehead. She did not quite believe what he said, so she cocked her head and lifted her eyebrows. “Married?” I need to be sure.
Joe looked to the ceiling and mumbled something. Then he pointed back and forth between the two of them and made motions like slipping rings on each other’s fingers.
“Oui! Married! Yes!” Meri nodded. She reached over and kissed Joe full on the lips. Joe reached around and embraced Meri, kissing her with a passion Meri didn’t think possible from this funny little man. Something inside of her stirred. For the first time in many years, she felt like a woman again.
“Yup! You understood! Let’s see how the rest of this goes.” Joe went on to explain in his cumbersome manner how the envelope had money in it. Instead of sending most of his wages home to his father, he had been saving for the past three months for the possibility of his future wife. Uncertain about how he would use the money—for a wedding, a ticket home for his bride, a nest egg once they were back in New York State—he wanted to be prepared. Now he knew what the money, or at least part of it, should be used for. Meri and Joe needed their privacy. He wanted her out of the boarding house and into a place of her own until he could take her away to America. If they had to skimp on the wedding, so be it.
Meri understood little of what Joe explained about the money. Marriage, privacy, America—it all sounded good to her. When Joe explained his ideas to Gratien and he translated them to Meri, she finally understood, or thought she did. She had to find an apartment for their privacy before he took her away from this disappointing life in Paris and to her new dream: New York City.
Jeannine still knew nothing about Joe or about Meri’s plan to move them
to New York City. Meri would have to tell her daughter soon. When? How? Meri also understood it was time Joe learned exactly what he had gotten into. If I wait until after we’ve made love, he will accept anything I tell him happily. Men are easy to sway after sex. I’ll wait until after I find my own apartment. That’ll be a good time to tell Jeannine, as well. I’ll finally be able to take her from the convent. She’ll be so happy. Any news will be good news.
§
Meri found a reasonable room to rent at the Jardin De Paris Saint Germain, a hotel on Rue St. Benoit located within easy walking distance to Le Bonaparte and the convent. The room had only a double bed, one dresser, and two tables on either side of the bed. Most importantly, the room had a private bathroom. She paid by the week.
She moved in on Monday, December 16. Gratien gave her the day off. Joe could not get away from his duties to help her. She did not mind, having so few personal possessions to move.
Meri enjoyed living in her own, albeit modest, “home” for the first time in her life. She could not prepare meals in the room. Since it was winter, she could put some food or beverages on the window ledge to stay cold. She had to be careful, though—temperatures could dip below freezing on rare occasions. It’s only for a few weeks, Meri reasoned. My privacy is worth any inconvenience related to meals. She ate extra portions at Le Bonaparte and shopped lightly when either Jeannine or Joe came for a visit—separately, of course.
Meri contacted the Finnish embassy and asked for Siri. She dearly wanted to invite her best friend to her home and to see how Siri had managed through the war. The polite but curt woman at the embassy had no information about her or where to find her. Siri, like so many other people in Meri’s life, had become a ghost. Is she alive or dead? Why torture myself wondering such things? She’s gone and missing her won’t bring her back. Meri learned from a lifetime of broken relationships that she needed to focus on the people who remained, not the people who had disappeared.
Jeannine was her second “guest” at the apartment. “Mamma! Is this where you live? How long have you lived here?” Meri had taken Jeannine to the Dorval residence on a few occasions when the house was vacant. Jeannine loved to run through the many hallways and rooms, pretending she lived in the large estate. She always cried when she had to leave, convinced she could hide in one of the many rooms and finally live close to her mother.
“Only for a few weeks, dear. Do you like it?”
“Oui, Mamma. It’s lovely. Much nicer than the convent. Anything is nicer than the convent. Can you believe I wanted to be a nun? I must’ve been crazy with fear or hunger!” Jeannine laughed. Her laughter wasn’t melodic, Meri noticed; it was more like small and large bursts verging on annoying.
Meri shook off the thought. I should be happy that my girl is happy. Hmmm. She seems more nervous than happy. Why? Mon Dieu! I don’t even know my own daughter. Perhaps she’s uncomfortable with me, a stranger to her. Anyway. I’m not such a good mother. “Jeannine, I think it’s finally time you come live with me.” Meri watched Jeannine closely for her reaction.
Silence.
“Did you hear me, cocotte?”
“Oui, Mamma. I did. I can’t believe the words. You want me to come live with you? Here?” Jeannine stood so straight she looked starched.
“Oui, here. It’s better than the convent, oui?” Meri’s eyes turned a darker shade of gray. She put her hands on her hips.
“Mamma, don’t be angry. I want to come here to live with you. I’ve been waiting all my life to live with you. I didn’t expect this. When can I come? Today?” Standing as rigidly as before, Jeannine’s brown eyes softened and became misty. Her lower lip began trembling like a small child—a thirteen year-old little girl….
Meri walked over to her daughter and hugged her. Any passerby would think two sisters or friends were embracing each other because of Jeannine’s height. She had grown taller than her mother by an inch. Meri and Jeannine embraced for a long time. The hug carried many emotions for Meri: guilt, relief, love, fear. She could only guess what Jeannine felt as the girl sobbed on her mother’s shoulder.
“I need to speak with the nuns about moving you out. I’ll make arrangements as soon as possible.”
Jeannine sobbed harder in response.
§
Joe had the honor of being Meri’s first “guest” in her apartment. He pays the rent, so it’s only fitting he visits the place first. During his first visit, Joe got his money’s worth.
He arrived on Sunday, December 22, with a box of chocolates and a hopeful heart.
Meri wore her best dress and made herself look as fetching as possible given her lack of funds and the rationing still going on in post-war Paris. She wanted to wear new stockings, but all she had were ones mended many times over. Perhaps he’ll focus on things other than my stockings, she thought as she adjusted her full bosoms to appear as perky as possible.
When Meri opened the door, she threw her arms around Joe, knocking off his cap. He quickly slid his coat off after handing her the chocolates. She thanked him, put them on one of the bedside tables, and sat on the bed.
She patted the bed and smiled.
Joe did not need an interpreter.
They began by kissing, first tentatively and then more aggressively. Joe began rubbing and squeezing Meri’s shoulders. She thought he would move his hands down and begin fondling her breasts. That’s how the other men did it: first breasts, then sex. But Joe keeps massaging my shoulders. Why? Is this how Americans do it? At first pleasurable, the constant shoulder-groping became annoying.
Still kissing, Meri took one of Joe’s hands and placed it on her left breast.
He stopped kissing her and glanced at his hand on her bosom.
“I like. Feel good.” She assured him, smiling. “You like?”
“Ooh, la, la!” Joe’s goofy smile contradicted the desperation—or passion—in his eyes. Meri could not discern what Joe’s eyes told her. She took his glasses off.
Meri decided she found herself an awkward lover. He massaged her breasts both over and under her clothes for too long and too aggressively. She had to undress herself because his short, stubby fingers fumbled with the buttons on her dress and the hooks on her bra. He barely could undress himself. I bet Michel, even in his advanced years, is an adept lover…Meri! Stop dreaming about Michel, especially now!
Watching Joe put on a condom almost made Meri laugh out loud. She turned her head away so he would not see her suppressed amusement. He’s such a clumsy man. When Joe entered her, he was all business. He finished within a few minutes. He’s an eager man. I’m always grateful when a man finishes quickly. She remembered the long, arduous sessions with the disgusting Monsieur Monville, her former employer at the hotel. If I’m not going to enjoy the sex, at least let it be brief.
Enjoying intimacy with Joe would have been a bonus for Meri. What she wanted more was to hook him to insure her passage away from Paris. Sex is a means to an end. Men use sex to get what they want. Why can’t I? Given the contented smile and the kisses Joe continued to blow her way as she walked around the room to pick up the clothes on the floor, she decided her mission was accomplished. She captured a satisfied husband-to-be.
Meri thought about how to tell him about her age and Jeannine as she paced the room.
“Come on over here and lay down with me, Honey.” Joe motioned for her with both arms outstretched—a little boy reaching for his mother.
She did.
After they rested, wrapped in each other’s arms, Meri broke the silence. “Joe, I older than you.”
“Wha…what? I nodded off, Honey.”
Frustrated she had to tell him again, Meri repeated her confession.
“Older? You don’t look older. Heck, I don’t care. As long as you keep doin’ what you just did, you could be my auntie for all I care!”
“No making you mad?”
“Heck, no! I ain’t no spring chicken, neither!”
“Good.” Meri smiled and bre
athed a big sigh of relief. “Anyway, one another ting.” She smoothed a section of his hair to make the misbehaving piece lie flat on his big round head. He nearly purred. “I have daughter.”
Joe bolted to a seated position, startling Meri. “What? You got a daughter? You didn’t think to tell me this before now?” His voice was too high-pitched for anger. Perhaps he’s surprised?
“She ten and three.” Meri counted on her fingers to demonstrate Jeannine’s age. “Jeannine. Her age. She live in convent. I work. She live in convent.” Meri shrugged.
Joe looked at her. “Where’s her dad? Her papa?”
“He die in war.”
“Sorry, Meri. A tough break. You coulda told me about her before now. It woulda been nice to know I was gittin’ a wife and a daughter….”
“You want us or no?” Meri stared hard at Joe.
“Maybe you ain’t gonna understand this. Here goes. I’m a man of my word. I ain’t never gone back on a deal. I proposed to you, and that’s a deal in my book. The way I see it, I’m comin’ out ahead on this deal. You is the best thing in my life, Meri. My Pa ain’t never gonna believe a woman as pretty and fancy as you fell for a simple guy like me. Unless your daughter has two heads, I’ll be happy to take you both.” He flopped back down and rested the back of his head on his hands, elbows jutting out like wings around his head.
Meri patiently listened to all the English flying around the room, catching only a word here and there, not understanding if he still wanted to marry her or not and take Jeannine with them to New York City. “Joe. You, me, Jeannine. New York City, America?”
Joe looked at her. Giving her a crooked smile, he said, “Yes, oui, you, me and Jeannine. America.”
Meri rolled her naked body on top of him. They kissed. She let him fondle her to his heart’s content. Before he left, they had sex again. This time Joe was slower and lasted longer. Meri felt something akin to pleasure.
As he left, Joe asked Meri, “Can I meet your girl before the wedding?”
§
Meri decided Jeannine and Joe should meet in the privacy of her apartment. She expected many questions and Meri didn’t want to worry about strangers overhearing their personal business. Because Jeannine could only leave the convent on Saturdays, she asked Joe to come over for a casual lunch on the Saturday of his choice. Joe picked January 18th. He told Meri he had to make arrangements for a buddy to cover his shift, something not easy given the preparations to “ship out soon.”
