French Kissing: Season Two

by Harper Bliss

  Dear Juliette,

  I know we’ve never met, and for that I’m deeply sorry. I’ve been together with your father for fifteen years and I know better than anyone that he’s a stubborn man. Please understand that I wouldn’t try to contact you behind his back without good reason. Although his operation went well and the prognosis is good, we’re all much more aware of his—and our own, perhaps—mortality and the mistakes we’ve made.

  To say it in your father’s words: facing death puts things into perspective.

  I don’t have many claims to make, not on his nor on my behalf, I can just tell you this: he is dreadfully sorry for the way he has treated you, but even more so, he’s terribly ashamed.

  His doctor says it’s not uncommon for people who’ve survived a heart attack to suffer from bouts of depression afterwards. This is certainly the case with your father. He reaches for the phone several times a day, and punches in the number for your office, always hanging up straight away, because the shame and guilt are so crushing.

  I can well imagine that you have no desire to give an old man some peace of mind. This old man in particular certainly doesn’t deserve it. Still, I’m asking you to consider it. Additionally, I, for one, would be delighted to meet you. Contrary to what you might believe, I have heard many wonderful things about you.

  I hope you don’t think I’m speaking out of turn by sending you this e-mail. And I hope you can find it in your heart to get in touch, either with me, François or Bertrand himself.

  Love,

  Betty

  Juliette blinked a few times. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. Would they have her nieces e-mail her next with a dramatic adolescent plea to meet their aunt? She closed the e-mail and shut off her computer. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to rise from her chair and go home. Instead, she let her head fall back and, for the first time in many years, allowed her mind to relive that day. The day Bertrand had kicked her out. Already, Juliette’s tears had been born much more of rage than of hurt—although she would later understand that the two were inextricably linked.

  And this woman, this Elizabeth, or Betty, or whatever she called herself, she couldn’t have been the best influence either. Juliette could only imagine what kind of person she was if she could love someone who turned away his daughter for being a lesbian. She wanted nothing to do with someone like that.

  Suddenly, she rose. She had to talk to Nadia. They needed to address everything they’d danced around. If they were going to city hall tomorrow to set their wedding date, they needed to cover everything beforehand. Juliette’s family. Her wish to have a child. Marie Dievart. Working too much. Everything. Juliette had avoided it long enough.

  * * *

  “How’s Claire?” Nadia asked when Juliette walked over to kiss her hello.

  “Not good. She had to take the day off. Steph took her to Le Comptoir in the middle of the day to calm her down a bit. She’s going over there tonight to keep her company.” Juliette kissed her fiancée on the lips for a long time.

  “Nice to see you too,” Nadia said, and clasped her arms around Juliette’s neck. “And the Laroche situation?” Nadia asked after they broke from their kiss.

  “Nuh-uh.” Juliette wiggled her index finger from left to right. “Let’s not talk about work. We need to talk about us. I’m so excited about tomorrow. No second thoughts, I hope?”

  “Hell no.” Nadia pulled her close again. “Can’t wait.” She nuzzled her nose against Juliette’s neck.

  Juliette couldn’t help but smile. She let Nadia kiss her way upward, until her lips met her jaw, then her cheeks and, ultimately, her mouth.

  “We need to talk about a few things, babe,” Juliette said, after they broke for air.

  “That we do.”

  “I received an e-mail from Bertrand’s compagne just before I left the office.”

  Nadia tilted her head. “More begging?”

  Juliette nodded and dug her phone out of her purse so she could show Nadia the e-mail. She stared at her intently while she read it.

  “They’re persistent,” Nadia said. “Let’s sit down, babe.”

  “I know I haven’t really been eager to talk about it. Do you still think I should go see him?” Juliette fidgeted with her phone after Nadia handed it back to her.

  Nadia covered Juliette’s hands with hers and took the phone from them. She put it on the coffee table before speaking. “Only you can really answer that question, Jules. I was wrong to suggest that you should. I see that now.”

  “But what would you do?” Juliette played with Nadia’s fingers instead of her phone.

  “It’s very hard for me to put myself in your position in this case. But I have thought about it, and, honestly, I’m not sure if I would go see him. Not after his blatant refusal to acknowledge you as his daughter, and to act the way a father should. He failed every test in that respect. And if you feel it’s too little too late now, I fully understand that. And I will support you.” She paused. “You don’t need him, Jules. He needs you. And where was he when it was the other way around?”

  “You changed your mind?” Juliette was surprised by Nadia’s opinion.

  “First I thought I got lucky with my parents, you know? Because they’re so liberal and supportive and nonjudgmental, until I realised it’s not a matter of luck. It’s a matter of common sense and decency. Of doing what is right. Of doing what every parent should do. But I know we don’t live in an ideal world, and children get shunned for being gay, or simply for being a little different, every single day. But, regret or not, if a parent can’t accept a gay child, what right do they ever have of being forgiven? None.” Nadia’s tone of voice grew louder, harsher. “I talked about it on the phone with my mother the other day. I figured she could offer a different perspective, and she basically told me the same. She said that if she’d ever treated me in the way that your parents have, she would surely be ashamed, and have regrets when she came to her senses, but she would never burden me with the choice of having to forgive her or not. She would know she screwed up that chance a long time ago. We’re not talking about a few months, or even a few years of not talking to each other here, Jules. Bertrand hasn’t tried to contact you for twenty-five years. Oh, and now he had a scrape with death and sees the error of his ways. Well, tough for him. Let him regret it for the time he has left.”

  “Damn, babe.” Juliette stared at Nadia in disbelief. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “I have a right to revise my opinion.” Nadia shuffled closer a bit. “But as I said, ultimately, it’s only up to you.”

  “I just wish they’d stop pestering me.”

  “So far you’ve been ignoring François’s messages, haven’t you? You could just reply and, curtly, tell him to leave you alone. And do the same with this e-mail.”

  Juliette nodded but, to her big surprise, a small part of her wanted to argue with Nadia’s words, wanted to argue in favour of her father. Perhaps her family’s non-stop words of apology were starting to have an effect on her. Or, just maybe, she and Nadia hadn’t fully agreed on something for such a long time, it felt odd now. Out of the ordinary—or the ordinary they’d come to expect.

  “I’ll need to sleep on it,” Juliette said. “I received another e-mail today. One I didn’t have the energy to read anymore after my father’s concubine’s e-mail. From Doctor Dupuis.”

  “The ob-gyn at Saint-Vincent?” Nadia asked.

  NADIA

  Here we go, Nadia thought. About time.

  “Yes.” Juliette nodded, but she didn’t have the same look of determination on her face she usually had when she started a conversation about having children. “I haven’t read the e-mail yet. Partly because I was afraid of what it might say, and partly because after that Betty’s e-mail I just wanted to come home to you.”

  Nadia had been a reserved, but supportive partner throughout Juliette’s monologues about what it would be like to have a child. Now was the time to speak up, especially b
ecause Juliette wasn’t in her usual destroyed state after a long day at work. From the instant she’d walked in, Nadia had sensed a genuine willingness to talk. So talk they would.

  “Did you have tests done at Saint-Vincent?” She didn’t add ‘behind my back’.

  “No, of course not,” Juliette said. “I just requested some data I couldn’t find on the internet. I wanted information from a reliable source.”

  “Do you want to read the e-mail together?” Nadia stared at Juliette’s phone, because she didn’t really know where else to look. To her surprise, Juliette just shrugged.

  “Not right now. This whole business with Bertrand has made me think. It’s not really procreation as such that I crave. What with my genes and both my mother and my father—and my brother!—being total assholes, I’m not sure that’s a chance I should take. Plus, we both know I’m not exactly the easiest person to be around either.”

  “Don’t say that, Jules. Inherited traits only make up for such a small part of someone’s personality, if any at all.” Nadia said it with a small voice because she was scared of what Juliette might suggest next. That Nadia carry a child she didn’t even want.

  “Maybe not.” Juliette shuffled in her seat. “But I’ve been thinking about my nieces, and how there are so many children on this planet already. Children in desperate need of a better home.”

  They really hadn’t been talking enough. Now Juliette was going all Mother Theresa on her. “You want to adopt?” Perhaps Nadia should have made her feelings very clear from the beginning.

  “No, Nadz, I want to know what you think.”

  “Okay.” Nadia wouldn’t have minded a glass of wine at this point. “Well.” She stalled. “I think our lives are way too packed to even fit in the notion of having children. You’ve brought up the subject a few times, but really, this is the first real conversation we’re even having about it. No matter how you twist or turn it, and regardless of whether you cut down on your hours at Barbier & Cyr, you live for your work, Jules. I don’t see you making room for anything or anyone else.”

  “That wasn’t my question, though.” Juliette eyed her like a hawk. “Perhaps I should rephrase it. Surely, after all my mentions of considering having children, you’ve had a chance to think about it. What do you want?”

  Nadia was worried that now they were actually having a real conversation, she was in danger of breaking her fiancée’s heart with what she was about to say. “I don’t want kids, Jules. I’ve never had that yearning. You know that.”

  “I guess I do,” was all Juliette said. Then they sat in silence for a few long seconds. Nadia found it a hard silence not to fill, but she let Juliette think, find her words. “Look,” she continued, “I know I practically sprung the idea on you in one of the most chaotic times in our relationship. Of course, I’ve picked up on your reluctance to discuss the subject further. Which speaks volumes. I also know we made the decision to choose our careers above anything else years ago. All of that, I know.” Juliette rubbed her palms on her skirt. “As per usual, my way of communicating with you about this has been somewhat sub par, but I have truly been thinking about it a lot because… I just can’t help myself. The wish is there. I can literally feel my clock ticking. I’ll be forty-five next year. It really is now or never.”

  “Well then.” Nadia sighed. “I suppose this is a case of very conflicting desires.”

  Juliette nodded. “It is. And I’m fully aware that in this case there’s no other option than for the No-vote to win. There’s no compromise.”

  “You’ve been happy all this time without a child, Jules,” Nadia said. “What changed?”

  “Have I, though? That’s what I’ve been wondering.” Juliette turned her face away from Nadia. “We have both slept with other people, Nadz. That’s how happy we’ve been.”

  Once again, it all boils down to this, Nadia thought. “With the emphasis on have been, babe. No relationship is always smooth sailing. We’re past that now. We’re happy. At least, I am.”

  “I’m happy with you too. We’ll always have our quarrels, but that’s just who we are. I can’t imagine my life without you, which is why I asked you to marry me.” Juliette looked at Nadia again. “And I do, sincerely, want to work less. I’ve given Barbier & Cyr the best years of my life, neglecting you in the process, but sometimes I wonder if I’m not missing out on an entirely different level of personal fulfilment.”

  “Oh, Jules.” Nadia scooted a little closer. “Are you sure you’re not confusing things? That perhaps you’re scared to death of no longer having your life filled to the brim with other people’s PR crises? Of no longer thinking about everyone else but yourself?”

  “No.” Juliette shook her head. “I’m serious.” Juliette’s eyes said it all. “I want to be a mother.” She held up her hands. “But I’m not giving you an ultimatum here. Please don’t think that. I just would like you to… open yourself up to the thought. To not dismiss it from the get-go.”

  Jesus Christ, Nadia thought. This is serious. “What do you want me to say, Jules?”

  “I don’t know.” Juliette sighed a deep sigh. “At this point, just that you’ll think about it again.”

  “This is a human life we’re talking about. Not something you can think yourself into wanting.” Perhaps this was the real reason why Juliette had been coming home late, to avoid having this conversation. To avoid having to face reality.

  “I know. I know.” Nadia was glad Juliette didn’t employ her usual defensive tone. “I fully realise I’m asking a lot. I’m just saying that people change. A year ago, the thought had barely crossed my mind, but with everything we’ve been going through, my perspective on a few things has changed. All I’m asking is that you don’t immediately rule out the possibility of this happening to you as well.”

  “What if it doesn’t? What if I just stay little old me. The same old Nadia Abadi who doesn’t want children?”

  “Then that’s how it is.” Juliette still sounded as if she had some fighting spirit left in her soul. “Then I’ll have to accept that.” Her voice grew louder. “Please don’t think this is a case of you and me versus me and a child, Nadz. You will always be my first priority.”

  That’s good to know, Nadia thought, but didn’t consider the moment opportune for sarcasm. “Fine.” Nadia was ready to abandon this subject. “I can at least promise you that I’ll give it some more thought, but that’s really all I can promise. Nothing more.”

  “I know.” Juliette reached out her hand. “Will you still go to the mairie with me in the morning?”

  Nadia took Juliette’s hand in hers and brought it to her mouth. “Try to stop me.” She kissed Juliette’s knuckles one by one, as though that would miraculously solve everything.

  STEPH

  “So, about this YouTube video you want me to record,” Dominique said. “I think we should practice. You know, get comfortable in front of the camera.” Her lips were pressed just below Steph’s ear. They were waiting for Philippe to drop off Lisa and Didier. Steph knew Dominique was nervous about telling her children about their relationship.

  “A sex tape is not a scandal we can handle, Madame Députée,” Steph replied, getting distracted by Dominique’s heavy breathing in her ear.

  “Oh, but I’m not talking about me, Stéphanie. I have plenty of experience in front of the camera. I was thinking about you.”

  “Oh really?” Steph grabbed Dominique by the neck and pulled her face with its distracting lips away from her neck. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Remember that time we Skyped?” Dominique winked at her, then looked at the clock above the fireplace.

  Steph just shook her head, nerves tearing through her belly as well. “Are you sure you want me to be here?”

  “They adore you. You know that.”

  Steph shrugged. “But I broke their mother’s heart.”

  “And then you put it back together.” Dominique came for her again, but was interrupted mid-movement
by the piercing chime of the bell. Dominique broke free from Steph’s haphazard embrace and buzzed her ex-husband and children in.

  Steph hadn’t seen Lisa and Didier in a long time. She wondered if they were up to gaining yet another stepmother, not that Steph herself was keen on taking up any parental roles. Nevertheless, the kids had to know what was going on before the story broke. From what Steph had heard, Dominique and Philippe had sat them down after the Le Matin front page and tried to explain in children’s terms what dirty politics were, but they were young and had the attention span of ants and soon their questions had stopped revolving around ‘Mommy’s friend’.

  Sadly, the likes of Sybille and Séverine Marechal and the hacks who called themselves journalists at Le Matin didn’t consider the effect of their actions on the offspring and loved ones of the people they viciously attacked in their newspaper.

  Lisa and Didier raced into their mother’s arms as soon as the front door opened. When they caught eye of Steph they broke out in shy smiles for a bit, until Steph crouched down and high-fived them. The title of cool aunt would suit her infinitely better than the one of stepmom.

  Steph let Dominique do the bulk of the talking. No PR advice was required here. Philippe sat fidgeting in his chair nervously throughout the conversation, and Steph even felt a bit sorry for him. Does he ever think about getting her back? Steph wondered. How do you even cheat on a woman like Dominique? How do you bring yourself to divorce her? But, then again, she’d done the same. She’d broken up with Dominique herself.