The Ariana Trilogy

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  I thought carefully about what she was saying. Jacques had been quiet at night, and I had often felt he was hiding something from me—but drugs? How could I be that blind?

  “I guess I wanted to believe him,” I said despondently, more to myself than to Paulette.

  “Today I asked him what he was going to do for money.” Paulette obviously wasn’t finished with her story, and I steeled myself for more. “He said that he’d just live off his old woman—don’t take offense, it was the drugs talking. Then he said maybe he’d find an easier way to live.” Paulette met my gaze straight on. “Ariana, I think he went to see your parents.”

  Anger erupted inside me. How dare he beg for money when he wasn’t willing to work for it!

  The rest of the day, I practiced in my mind the things I would say to him when he came to pick me up. But after closing he didn’t come, and Jules ended up walking me home. It began to rain, and I was reminded again of Antoine.

  Jacques was not in the apartment when I arrived. After putting Nette to bed, I paced the floor restlessly, waiting in the dim lamplight for my husband’s return. I knew our marriage was ended, that we had to separate, at least until he got his head on straight, but I didn’t know if I would have the courage to tell him. Somehow, for my daughter, I had to be strong.

  Sometime after one o’clock in the morning, Jacques stumbled in. He didn’t see me at first, but when he did, he held open his arms.

  “Hi, honey.”

  I didn’t move to greet him. “You lied to me.”

  Jacques stopped short. “I didn’t want you to worry about the job. I’ll find a better one.”

  “Will you? And what about the drugs, Jacques? You said that you were finished with the drugs!”

  “I am,” he said.

  “Oh? Then you won’t mind if I take a look for myself.” I turned on the brighter overhead lights while Jacques covered his eyes at the sudden glare. I pushed his hands away from his face and saw what I had tried so hard not to see these past months. I checked his coat pockets and found the hard evidence.

  “No wonder we don’t have any money!” I shouted, holding the drugs in front of his face. “You spend it all on drugs, even when you’re working! Well, I can’t do it anymore! I can’t support you and your habit! You see only what you want to see—you’re blinded by the drugs! Don’t you know that I need you, that I love you?” I shook my head. “But not like this.”

  “We’ve got plenty of money, Ariana,” Jacques responded coldly. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket to reveal a fat sheaf of large bills.

  My eyes opened wide. “Where did you get this?”

  “Little Ariana, pretending to be so innocent,” he said mockingly. “I got this money where you got yours, though I don’t know where you’ve kept it all this time. I got it from your parents. I told them about our baby and how we desperately needed the money. Your father wanted to know what we did with all the other money he gave us for our wedding. Remember that, dear Ariana? I told him we had to pay extra hospital bills when the baby was born, because of complications. But now, you tell me. What did you do with the money?”

  “I was saving it for the baby! Or for an emergency!” I exclaimed. “What would you have done with it? Tell me, Jacques! No, let me tell you. You would have had a party or spent it on drugs. You certainly wouldn’t have wanted to work. Just like now. I wanted us to make something better of ourselves, not only for our baby but for us! I wanted you and me to spend that money to help us in school, but you just want to waste your life away!”

  His face became livid. “No, Ariana,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “that’s what I have been doing—wasting my time away here with you, when I could be out really living and enjoying myself!”

  That stung, because despite our problems, I believed Jacques stayed with me because he loved me. “Okay, maybe I was wrong not to tell you about the money,” I admitted reluctantly, trying to see his point. “But I wasn’t wrong in what I wanted to do with it.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, Ariana,” Jacques said, his voice weary. “I’m leaving.”

  My laugh was short and bitter. “That’s funny. I was going to tell you the same thing.” But it didn’t feel funny. It hurt almost as bad as Antoine’s death.

  He looked at me. “Well, I guess there’s nothing more to say.”

  “I guess not.” Then I added more softly, “But tell me one thing. This morning you said these past few months were the best you’d ever spent. Was that also a lie?”

  I could tell he wanted to say that it was, but he couldn’t. “It’s true, Ariana. I got a glimpse of the life we could have had together under other circumstances. But I’m not good enough for you, and I don’t know if I want to be.”

  “And Nette?”

  He shook his head. “She’s better off without me.” At that he scooped up his wallet and all the bills. Draping his coat over his arm, he headed for the door. “Tell your parents thanks for the money,” he said over his shoulder. “They know our address and will probably show up here one day. They wanted to see the baby.”

  Then he was gone, and I was left alone again, listening to the rain falling in the empty streets.

  Chapter Six

  The morning of my nineteenth birthday dawned, though I had surely thought that after my separation from Jacques nothing in the world could possibly be the same. I awoke early, and without thinking felt the side of the bed where he slept. Of course it was empty. I looked down at Nette sleeping peacefully beside me, her little body curled into mine. A deep sadness filled my heart. As my father had distanced himself from me a year and a half ago at Antoine’s death, so had my baby’s father distanced himself from her—and just as permanently.

  Listlessness settled upon me, and I didn’t want to even get out of bed. I lay there for an hour, gazing alternately at the ceiling and my sleeping baby. She stretched and slowly opened her eyes, looking up at me with such love and trust that it forced me to think seriously about our future.

  “We’re all alone, Nette,” I said to her softly. “But that’s okay because we have each other, and women have been raising children without men since time began.” I bit my lip, unwilling to let my child see how much the thought frightened me, though I knew she wouldn’t understand. Nette smiled and giggled softly, reaching up to put her hand in my mouth.

  Suddenly a loud shout came through the thin walls. Some of my neighbors were fighting, even this early in the morning. Abruptly, I made my decision.

  “The first thing to do is get out of this hole,” I said, bringing Nette to my breast to nurse. “After you eat, we’ll get up and bathe and see if Marguerite still has an apartment for us.” Strength and determination cascaded through my body. Tears were for late, rainy nights, but days were for action.

  Less than an hour later, we were at the café. It was also open for breakfast, but they had another girl, Dauphine, helping out in the mornings, so Marguerite was free to talk with me when I arrived.

  “What? Here so early?” she asked with a smile, reaching out to hug and kiss Nette. “How about some breakfast—on the house? It is your birthday, after all.”

  I returned her smile. “No thanks, I’ve already eaten. But what Nette and I do need is a small apartment, if you’ve got one open. Jacques and I have separated.”

  Marguerite watched me without speaking for a moment before saying quietly, “I’m sorry, Ariana. It’s a rotten thing to have happen on your birthday, but maybe you can see it as a new beginning or something.”

  I bit my lip hard so my strength wouldn’t suddenly fail me. “That’s how I’m looking at it. I’m starting anew. I’m going to go back to school, too, if I can find a program that will allow me to do much of the studying at home with Nette, and then on to college. We’re going to build our own life, Nette and I.”

  Marguerite hugged us both. “Good for you! I’ll be here to help you out. And I’ll have an apartment free next week. I’ve been interviewing people for it but have
n’t promised it to anyone yet. So it’s yours, and half-price this month because of your birthday.”

  “Oh, thank you, Marguerite!”

  I had a few hours before work, so I searched out a couple of schools in the area. Because of my age and the baby, it was relatively easy to find a program that would work around my schedule. The program I chose would begin in a month, and I could learn at home and take the tests when I was finished. I had to use a good chunk of my parents’ wedding gift to pay for it, but I knew it would be worth it in the long run. I figured it would take me about four months to finish my last year of high school, even with only mornings to study. Of course, I would have to find someone to watch Nette during the tests, but I was sure Marguerite and Jules would help.

  I had time afterwards to walk by some of my favorite places along the Seine. When we arrived near the Palais de Justice, I told little Nette the story of Queen Marie-Antoinette. “She must have been very beautiful, as you are going to be,” I concluded. “But the point is that she was a queen, and that’s what we are both going to be. That’s one of the reasons I named you Antoinette, you know. I want you to be as wonderful as my brother, Antoine, and as noble as a queen. Not the kind who rules over others but the kind who rules herself and is not afraid to love and be kind, even though it sometimes hurts so much.” Sorrow and pain clutched at my heart when I thought about how much I was hurting for those I had lost, but I blinked back the tears quickly and walked on.

  I stopped at one of the vendors along the river and bought a stuffed bear for Nette. It was fluffy and as white as snow and so cuddly. She grabbed at it immediately, smiling, but shortly lost interest. I didn’t mind; I knew that as she grew older she would learn to love it as much as I had once loved my own stuffed bear, now long gone.

  I kept walking until I found a bench where I could sit down. Though Nette was only three months old, I had been lugging her around all morning and was beginning to feel even her slight weight. She had fallen abruptly asleep as she always seemed to do, but I was content to look down on her peaceful, angelic face. Emotion welled up in my heart, and I knew I loved her more than I had ever loved anyone in my entire life, including Antoine. She was a perfect miracle.

  After a while I heard singing from a distance, and my curiosity made me go see who was causing the commotion. Several young men and women like those I had seen the day of Antoine’s funeral were singing on the cobblestone sidewalk overlooking the river. They held up a sign as before about families being eternal and also another one that read: “Jesus Christ Loves You!”

  I felt a warm, unfamiliar glow inside me. I once had decided that God didn’t live because Antoine had died; but now I had little Nette, and the love I felt for her was so strong that I couldn’t help wondering if God had sent her to me. Maybe He existed after all.

  “Oh, Nette,” I whispered to the sleeping baby. “I wish it were all true, that we could see Antoine again somehow and that you could be mine forever.”

  Glancing at my watch, I suddenly realized I was late for work and hurried in the direction of the subway. A young woman held a pamphlet out to me as I passed, and I hurriedly took it and shoved it into my coat pocket. It was well and good to dream, but I had to come back to the real world now. There was work to be done.

  A week later, Jules and Marguerite helped me move my few belongings to the new apartment. They absolutely refused to let me keep the couch, however, saying that it was flea-infested and dirty beyond saving. “We have one that you can have,” Marguerite said. “I ordered a new one for our apartment only last week to go with the new wallpaper, and the old one has to go.”

  “You mean the beautiful one with the bed in it?” I asked. She nodded. “Well, in that case, let’s leave the old bed behind, too,” I said. “We’ll sleep on the couch-bed until we can buy one of our own. I—I think it would be easier for me if I didn’t have to sleep in the same bed.”

  “Well, I can certainly understand that,” Marguerite agreed immediately. “And that’s one less thing we’ll have to move!”

  We did take the small kitchen table with its two chairs, the TV, the TV stand, the lamp and corner table, and the crates I had been using to store our clothes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

  The new apartment was everything I could have wished for. It was as small as the one we’d come from, except for the bathroom, which was twice the size. It had new-looking carpet and vinyl flooring, and the walls had been freshly painted. Everything had a clean look and smell about it, which made me love it immediately. I wasn’t afraid to lay Nette on the floor, even though she could roll off her blanket.

  During the moving, Marguerite and Jules kept disappearing and reappearing with odds and ends to make the apartment more comfortable. “This dresser was left in one of the apartments last year,” Jules said once. “It needs a little paint, but it’ll be better than those crates for your clothes.”

  About the same time, Marguerite came in with some wall hangings. “I bought these just last month, but they don’t go with the new wallpaper.”

  On and on they went until my apartment really did look like a home. Not even once did I let myself think about Jacques; that part of my life was over. Only at night was I unable to forget, and then I cried. But morning would soon dawn, and I would start anew.

  A week later, my parents showed up at the café. It was during the evening rush, so I pretended I hadn’t seen them and worked furiously, hoping they would go away. But they waited until things slowed down.

  “Who are they?” Marguerite asked, smoothing her white apron over her large bosom.

  I grimaced. “My parents.”

  “Well, they don’t seem so bad.”

  I looked at them, trying to see them from her point of view, but all I could see were the cold faces that had shut me out of their lives when my beloved brother had died.

  “I don’t want to talk to them,” I whispered suddenly.

  But Marguerite wouldn’t let me run away. “You’re going to have to face them sometime. Remember that they lost not only Antoine but you as well. They’ve got to be hurting. Try to be nice to them.” Her words reminded me of how I had told Nette on my birthday that we were going to be queens. It was time for me to act like one.

  I wiped my hands and went over to the door where they waited. “Hello,” I said, trying to make my voice as steady as possible.

  “Hello, Ariana,” my mother said quickly. “You look good. I like your hair long like that.”

  “We went to your old apartment, and they told us that you work here, so we came,” my father added. “We wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “And the baby?” my mother asked. “Where is she?”

  For a moment I wanted to lie and say there was no baby, but I told myself a queen would never lie. “She’s in the kitchen.” I motioned to the door with my chin. “Probably asleep.”

  “May we see her?”

  “Sure.” I reluctantly went to get Nette. She wasn’t asleep and was all smiles when I walked in the door and picked her up from the blanket on the floor.

  “Come on, little queen,” I said. “You’ve got some grandparents to meet. Try to be polite now.”

  I held the baby close as I presented her to my parents, not offering her to them to hold.

  “She’s beautiful!” My mother reached out a finger for Nette to grab.

  “I think so.” Then I added, just to see how they would react, “She looks a lot like Antoine.”

  My father’s face tightened, as if a mask had suddenly covered it. My mother’s eyes watered, and she looked away. It seemed they still had not come to terms with Antoine’s death.

  “Don’t, Ari,” my mother begged.

  “My name isn’t Ari anymore. It’s Ariana,” I said bitterly. “You have both buried Ari as surely as you buried Antoine! But you still won’t talk about it, will you? Why are you even here? Did you decide that since your beloved son is gone, I will finally have to d
o?”

  Neither of them spoke for what seemed like long minutes. Finally, my father coughed and began. “We wanted to see if you needed help with the baby. Your husband said money was tight, and we thought that if you needed us to, we could take care of her for you, to make sure she had everything she needed.”

  That made me furious. “Everything material, you mean! Why, Father, I do believe that is the longest thing you’ve said to me since Antoine’s death—except to bawl me out about drinking. What you don’t seem to realize is that Nette already has everything she needs with me. I love her as you two never loved me! I’m in school, and I’m going to make something of our lives. And I’m never going to make my daughter feel as if she’s a half-brained idiot just because she’s a girl. No, I can raise my daughter alone, thank you very much! We don’t need you, and we don’t need your money. Do you know where the last money you gave to Jacques went? Well, I don’t know exactly, because he left me the day you gave it to him. But you can be absolutely sure he’s on a heroin trip or something worse. That’s where your precious money went!” I glared at them, daring them to refute my words.

  My father only shook his head. “We shouldn’t have come. I can see you are just as unreasonable as before.”

  “Me, unreasonable!” I exclaimed, feeling my heart harden even further against them. “You’re the ones who come in here thinking you can rescue my daughter from her horrible situation. Just what makes you think you can raise her better than I can? You don’t exactly have a good track record with raising daughters. Even now, you can’t admit you are partly at fault for what happened to me after your precious Antoine died!” I was practically screaming at them now, and nearly everyone in the café had stopped eating to listen. But I didn’t care.

  “You left me all alone! Both of you! When Antoine died, part of me died as well. Don’t you see? He’d been with me since the moment we were conceived, so in a way he was me, because I had never learned to be myself!” I took a deep, shaky breath and said more calmly, “I think you should leave now.”