Don't Worry, Life Is Easy

by Agnes Martin-Lugand

  He stared into my eyes.

  “Read a story to Declan while I finish making dinner?”

  “It would be better to swap jobs; that would be better for both of you.”

  “You’re not going to do the cooking. Really!”

  “None of that… politeness doesn’t suit us.”

  I went behind the counter, took the wooden spoon from him, and pushed him into the living room. He shook his head before picking up a book from his son’s schoolbag. Declan tried to squirm out of it but his father’s expression convinced him not to insist. Lulled by the mixture of his little voice and his father’s hoarse one, I finished the cooking and set the table. Edward took his time to make sure that Declan understood everything; his patience took my breath away. When the meal was ready, I walked past without interrupting them and went outside for a smoke. Two minutes later, the bay window opened and Edward joined me, smoking a cigarette.

  “I had to promise him he could sit next to you at the table; I hope you won’t be angry with me.”

  “No problem.”

  The conversation stopped there. All we could hear was the sound of cigarettes being smoked through the wind and the waves. It was still too early to open the floodgates. In any case, Declan wouldn’t leave us any time to relax. He came out to find us, his stomach growling.

  Once we started to eat, he made sure there was conversation; he talked nonstop about what happened with his friends at school before asking me a direct question.

  “You’re leaving tomorrow? Is that really true?”

  “Yes, I’m taking a plane.”

  “Why? It isn’t fair…”

  “I was here on vacation; I live in Paris. I work there. Remember?”

  “Yes… Daddy, could we go and visit Diane sometime?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “But we could go when I’m off school!”

  Edward’s face clouded over.

  “Declan,” I said, “You have all the time in the world to come and see me. OK?”

  He grumbled, finished his yoghurt and went to throw the empty pot in the garbage, without saying a word. Then he sat down on the couch, sulking. Edward watched him, tense and worried. He got up from the table and sat down opposite his son. He stroked his hair.

  “You remember that Abby’s sick, don’t you, and that we have to take care of her and help Jack. That’s why I can’t take you to Paris to see Diane.”

  “But you went…”

  “That’s true, but I shouldn’t have…”

  Declan lowered his head; Edward took a deep breath.

  “Now it’s time to go to bed.”

  “No, daddy! I don’t want to!”

  Anguish ran through him and showed on his unhappy face.

  “You have no choice. You have school tomorrow.”

  “Please, daddy! I want to stay with you and Diane.”

  “No. Go and say goodbye to Diane.”

  He leapt off the couch and crushed himself against me, holding onto my waist and crying. I took a deep breath. Edward stared at me, distraught, before putting his head in his hands.

  “Diane, I don’t want to go to bed, I don’t want to, don’t want to…”

  “Listen, daddy is right. You have to go to bed.”

  “No,” he sobbed.

  I looked at Edward; there was nothing he could do; he had no strength left. They needed some help, and I was there…

  “Do you want me to come with you, like the other night?”

  He held me even tighter: his answer was clear.

  “Come on.”

  He headed toward the stairs without looking at his father.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something!” I reminded him.

  He turned around and ran into Edward’s arms. I left them alone and went up to his room. I could hear his little footsteps on the stairs, then listened to him brush his teeth. While he was doing that, I turned on the beside lamp, straightened out his bed, which hadn’t been made, and got his mother’s scarf that was hidden under the mattress. He came into his room and slipped under the covers. I knelt down beside his bed and stroked his forehead and face.

  “Declan, daddy is doing everything he can for you… he knows how much you’re hurting… you have to help him; what I’m asking of you is complicated… but you have to let him sleep in his own bed. You’re a brave little boy… your daddy won’t ever leave you… When you’re asleep, he’s always home… Can you promise me you’ll try?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you want me to sing you the lullaby?”

  “When will you come back?”

  I tilted my head to one side and smiled.

  “I don’t know… I can’t promise anything.”

  “Will we see each other again?”

  “Someday… Now go to sleep.”

  I sang the lullaby several times while continuing to stroke his hair. His little eyes fought for a while before closing. He was also exhausted. When I felt he was calm, I kissed his forehead and stood up. Before closing the door, I looked at him one last time and sighed.

  In the living room, everything had been cleared away, the bay window was open, and there was a fire in the fireplace. Edward was standing near the window sill, smoking a cigarette and looking extremely nervous.

  “He’s asleep,” I whispered. “I tried to make him understand that you also had to sleep in your own bed.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “I could never thank you enough.”

  “It’s not necessary… but if you have any Guinness in the fridge, I wouldn’t say no. I’d gladly have a last one before going back to Paris.”

  “Can’t you get it in France?”

  “I’m sure it wouldn’t taste the same as it does here.”

  A few minutes later, he was handing me a pint. We didn’t clink glasses. Standing near the fireplace, I lit a cigarette. I made sure not to look at him even though I could feel him staring at me. I noticed an album on one of the bookshelves. Curiosity got the better of me.

  “Is this your portfolio?”

  “That’s right.”

  “May I?”

  “If you’d like.”

  I threw my cigarette into the fire, put my glass down on the coffee table, picked up the thing I wanted to see, and settled down in an armchair opposite him.

  I started leafing through the album with the greatest care. The first photographs left me stunned.

  “Are these the Aran Islands at the front?”

  “You have a good memory.”

  My stomach knotted when I recognized myself in one of the shots.

  “How could I forget?” I said very softly.

  I continued looking through the album. His mood was palpable in every frame. I had the impression that he was telling a story with his portfolio, a romance told in pictures in the literal meaning of the term. The beginning was full of light and air, you could breathe in the landscapes he showed us. But then, the atmosphere became more oppressive: the sky was always dark, blotted out by threatening clouds; the sea was raging, the boats swaying in a storm. And then, gradually, it was as if you could breathe again, a ray of sun reflected off the sea before lighting up the sky. The last photo was a shadow of a child running along the beach, the waves licking the feet of the subject, or Declan, I should say. Edward’s portfolio told his story, what he’d been through the past few months, as if he’d tried to exorcise his ordeal, to turn the page through his photos. Completely absorbed in my “reading,” I hadn’t noticed he’d stood up and was standing by the fireplace with his back to me. I put the portfolio back on the shelf and drank my Guinness to regain control of my emotions. It took all my courage to walk over to him.

  “Edward… I’m sorry to have gone like that, so suddenly. It was wrong to do that to you. I’m sorry…”

  He turned around and looked deep into my eyes.

  “You shouldn’t regret anything,” he said harshly. “It’s good that you met my son; you know my priorities now. You’ve bui
lt a new life for yourself with Olivier, and I’m happy for you.”

  His voice faltered slightly; I could feel a lump in my throat. He looked at me even more intensely.

  “You made the right decision at the time,” he continued, his voice softer. “Declan is here… we didn’t have a future together.”

  He was right about everything: we would have ended up breaking up. Several seconds passed while we stood dead still. I breathed in deeply.

  “It’s late; I’m going to go now; it’s for the best.”

  “We’ve said everything we had to.”

  “Yes… I think so.”

  He followed me to the entrance hall.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “If you’d like.”

  We were hit by a gust of wind; it was pitch black out. I opened the car door and threw my bag onto the passenger seat.

  “Judith and I will keep you informed about Abby.”

  “Thank you… take care of yourself, Edward.”

  “I’ll try…”

  I got into the car without saying any more. We looked at each other one last time: it was over. He lit a cigarette and waited until I’d driven off before going back inside.

  Abby and Jack were asleep when I got back. I went up to my room, quietly packed my suitcase and went to bed, knowing very well that sleep would not come easily. Relief and sadness alternated, battling for prime place in my emotions. The situation between Edward and me was now clear: I’d cut my ties to him. The joy of going back to Olivier made up for my feeling of incompleteness. My relationship with Edward didn’t exist any more. I finally fell asleep.

  Waking up was difficult; depression hit me as soon as I opened my eyes. After showering and getting dressed, I stripped the sheets from the bed and put them in the washing machine. Once my room was clean, I went downstairs, carrying my large suitcase. Abby greeted me with a big smile and an enormous breakfast. I was going to make an effort for her; if worst came to worst, I’d throw up on the road. I kissed her on both cheeks.

  “Did you have a good evening?” I asked her.

  “Of course. And what about you, with Edward and Declan?”

  “It was very nice.”

  “You don’t want to talk about it?”

  “There’s not much to say…”

  “She understands,” Jack broke in, “Don’t you Abby?”

  “Come along then; you need your strength for the journey,” she said, taking me by the arm.

  Even though we tried to be cheerful during our last meal together, we failed.

  “Do you need anything for the trip? Something to eat or drink?”

  “Thanks, Abby, but no… I’ll get going… the longer we put it off, the worse it will be…”

  Jack was the first to stand up. He took my bags and went outside. Abby and I looked at each other.

  “Will you help me, my darling?”

  I hurried to the other side of the table to take her arm. She stroked my hand as we walked. I held back my tears. The car arrived too quickly. Jack came over to me and opened his arms.

  “My little Frenchwoman,” he sighed, hugging me tight. “Take good care of yourself.”

  “I promise,” I replied, sniffling.

  “The car’s waiting for you.”

  He let go of me, pulled an enormous handkerchief out of his pocket, and wiped his eyes and nose. I turned toward Abby, who stroked my cheek.

  “We’ve said everything we had to, my little one.”

  I nodded, incapable of uttering a sound.

  “Promise me one last thing: don’t be sad when I’m gone, don’t cry. Make sure our reunion was a good one; we had time together to prepare ourselves.”

  I looked up to the heavens before drying my eyes and taking a deep breath.

  “Don’t make me lie when I tell your Colin and Clara that you’re fine, and happy, and that they can be proud of you. All right?”

  As a promise and to say goodbye, I hugged her tightly in my arms and whispered in her ear that I loved her like a mother. She stroked my cheek, tears in her eyes, before letting go of me. I climbed into the car without looking at them and drove off without looking back. I drove about 12 kilometers before stopping on the shoulder of the road to cry my heart out.

  It’s a miracle that I managed to make it to Dublin airport without causing an accident. I couldn’t stop crying for the entire four hours it took to get there; I was still crying when I returned the rental car, while checking in my bags, going through security, and sending a text to Olivier once I was on the plane. When it took off, I felt like I was being ripped apart, that I was being torn from my home. But I gritted my teeth and tried to calm myself down. The man waiting for me in Paris didn’t deserve to see me in this state. In order to compose myself and look as calm as possible, or rather, make my face look less swollen, I got off after most of the other passengers and stopped in the restroom to splash cold water on my face and touch up my makeup before getting my suitcase from the conveyor belt. The doors from Customs opened; he was there, smiling, calmly waiting to meet me. I ran and threw myself into his arms, not because I thought I should or to pretend to be happy, but because I really wanted him to hold me. The pain of having left Mulranny was still with me, it would always be with me, I knew that, but I could breathe a bit easier with Olivier by my side.

  8

  Life continued as before from the next morning. I’d slept at Olivier’s place and our night had made me feel much better. He took me home and carried my suitcase upstairs while I went into the bookstore. I didn’t have to tell him I wanted to be alone; he’d understood that by himself. First bit of luck: everything was intact. Felix hadn’t ransacked anything while I was away and it was clean. He must have really taken responsibility and would doubtlessly demand a few days off, or a bonus! Second bit of luck, and the most important one: I felt good here, and I was excited at the idea of getting back to work. My trip to Ireland hadn’t broken my ties to the bookstore. Olivier knocked on the back door and I went and opened it.

  “Thank you,” I said, then kissed him. “Do you have time to have a coffee with me?”

  “Do you really have to ask!”

  We sat down at the counter, next to each other. Olivier turned my head to him, stroked my cheek and took one of my hands in his.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, promise.”

  “You don’t regret anything then?”

  “Not for a second.”

  “That’s good… and the little boy?”

  “Oh… Declan… I managed, and better than I thought I would.”

  “Maybe because you know his father.”

  “And his whole family… I don’t know… he’s sweet… And, well… he’s going to suffer more. Abby has become his grandmother… when she goes…”

  My voice faltered.

  “Don’t think about that.”

  “You’re right.”

  “The main thing is that you got back in contact with your friends. It’s up to you to keep in touch now.”

  He finished his coffee and was getting ready to go.

  “I have no other choice now!”

  I clung onto him and walked him out to the street.

  “Do you want to see a movie tonight?” he suggested.

  “Why not! But let’s sleep at my place.”

  “OK.”

  He kissed me and headed for his office.

  As I suspected, Felix took part of the day off. He took his time and arrived around three o’clock.

  “The owner is chasing the customers away! There were more people here when I was behind the counter.”

  “Happy to see you too, Felix!”

  He planted a kiss on my cheek, helped himself to a coffee, and leaned on the counter, watching me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Taking stock…”

  “And your verdict?”

  “Superficially, you pass the first test. You must have cried so much yesterd
ay that you slept like a log. Which is why you now look fresh as a daisy instead of having puffy eyes. But inside, on the other hand… less sure that everything is working properly…”

  “It’s true; I won’t pretend it wasn’t painfully difficult to say goodbye to Abby. I’ll never see her again… can you understand that?”

  He nodded.

  “As for the rest, I’m in fine shape. I got some fresh air and had a great time with Judith. All in all, everything made me happy!”

  “And Edward?”

  “What about Edward? He’s doing the best he can. We settled everything once and for all. It was the best thing to do.”

  “You mean that you didn’t succumb to his gruff, wild charm a second time!”

  “Felix, he’s a father now.”

  “Exactly. I’d really like to become a nanny; he must be incredibly sexy with his kid!”

  I raised my eyes to heaven.

  “You’re forgetting one little detail: I have Olivier; I love Olivier.”

  “Good point. Now I feel reassured!”

  During the weeks that followed, the humdrum routine of daily life continued; Happy People lived up to my highest expectations, Felix was in top form, and I felt good with Olivier. One more thing: I spoke to Abby and Judith on the phone once a week. And that filled me with joy, as if I were closing a gap inside me.

  We were slouched in front of the television, at Olivier’s place. I was dozing in his arms, totally uninterested in the film he found captivating.

  “Go to bed,” he finally said to me.

  “Won’t that bother you?”

  “Don’t be silly!”

  I gave him a kiss on the neck and made a quick stop in the bathroom before climbing into bed. I wasn’t completely asleep when Olivier slipped under the covers and pulled me close.

  “Didn’t you watch the end?”

  “I already knew what happened. Did you set the alarm?”

  “Shit!”

  “What?”

  “I forgot my bag again; it’s under the counter at the bookstore. I’ll have to stop at my place to change clothes before opening up.”

  I grabbed my phone from the night table and set the alarm for twenty minutes earlier. I was still moaning about it when I got back in bed.

  “Diane?”

  “Yes.”