Sunday in ages that she wouldn’t get to see him. That, too, she contemplated, must have been part of the reason she wasn’t jumping for joy.
“Oh, well,” she reasoned. “This is an investment in my future. I can afford to give up one Sunday with him if it results in a lifetime of being his mistress.”
As it turned out, there were a lot of missed Sundays. Fulbert spent many of them now in the company of Lili St. Pierre. Each Sunday he didn’t visit sent Didi into a mist of depression that didn’t fully evaporate until his next appearance. He came for the party commemorating Didi’s eighteenth birthday, and she was most happy when she saw him walk through the door. But he brought his new lady love with him, and, in the birthday girl’s mind, that added a touch of bitterness to what should have been a sweet occasion in her life. It wasn’t that Lili St. Pierre was disagreeable. She was a pleasant enough girl, and it made it difficult for Didi not to like her. However, Didi knew that, if all went according to plan, she’d have to share Fulbert on a long term basis with Lili, and, on her birthday, she was disinclined to share.
Now that her daughter was an adult, Madame Dupuis tried to encourage Didi to engage the company of various men of distinction. There was an abundance of well off Parisian men. One of them surely would be in the market for a mistress.
Didi declined all opportunities. She was waiting for Fulbert. She had every reason to believe he’d marry that Lili St. Pierre woman soon, and then Didi could assume her rightful place as his kept woman.
“She said yes!” Fulbert exulted as he stood in the Dupuis parlor.
It was a Monday, of all things. He never came there on a Monday. But he was so excited, he wanted to share the news with his friends at the first opportunity.
“That’s wonderful!” Madame Dupuis wrapped her arms about the young man and kissed him on both cheeks. “When is the wedding?”
“We haven’t set a date yet. I only asked her last night.”
“Well, you let us know where and when, and Didi and I will be there! We’re so happy for you!”
“Yes, Fulbert,” said Didi in a subdued voice. “Very happy for you.”
The man looked tenderly at the young girl. With a warm smile, he approached her.
“Didi, this wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you. You gave me the confidence to come out of my shell romantically. I’ll be forever grateful.”
“What are friends for?” she uttered. Then she kissed him on the cheek, a little longer than perhaps she had intended.
He said he couldn’t stay and was gone within a few minutes. As soon as he departed, Didi went upstairs to her room to contemplate her success. She had achieved exactly what she set out to do.
She lay down on her bed, pressed her face into the pillow, and cried.
Fulbert and Lili set the wedding date for late summer. The ceremony would take place at the lake where the St. Pierre family kept their boat. According to Fulbert’s description, there was a large pavilion that would accommodate both the ceremony and the reception afterwards. Madame Dupuis buzzed about it again and again, cooing over the pending nuptials almost as if they were her own.
“What do you think I should wear, Didi?” It was late on a Friday evening, and Madame Dupuis was rummaging through the armoire in her bedroom, lifting the hems of one dress after another to inspect them.
Off to the side, Didi was slunk back into a chair, her eyes half closed and her chin propped on a hand supported by a forearm whose elbow was nestled into the frame of the seat. “Wear whatever you like,” she yawned.
“Well, we’re going to be among high class people. It’s important we make a good impression. What are you going to wear?”
“How about my white dress?”
“Silly girl! Only the bride wears white!”
“Maybe I’ll wear pink.” With a blasé attitude, Didi stared out the window. “Fulbert seems to like that color.”
“I’ve never seen Fulbert so vivacious. So full of energy. Have you?”
The girl gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Marriage is going to be a wonderful thing for him,” the mother continued. “It’s all wrong for a woman, of course. But, for a man… Well, it’s the vary making of him. Men are such boys until they get married. They wander about aimlessly, pursuing only their own pleasure. A wife sets them straight. Teaches them there’s more to life than just being happy all the time.”
Didi dragged herself out of the chair and headed out the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some air,” muttered the girl as she continued down the stairs without pausing. Seconds later, she stomping along the sidewalk, her lips pursed and her eyes blank.
It was a warm, clear night. The stars were brilliant against the black sky. The moon, almost full, radiated a light that cast a glow over even those parts of the city not illuminated by streetlamps. If there was anyone else out enjoying the splendid evening, Didi didn’t notice. Her focus was elsewhere. She hadn’t ventured outdoors to witness the moon or the stars. There was someone else she had to see. At the moment, it was an uncontrollable compulsion.
She entered a building, ascended the stairs to the second story, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door to an apartment.
“Didi!” Fulbert’s face expressed great surprise as he opened the door. His jacket was off and his tie was undone. It was obvious he hadn’t been expecting company. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a girl pay a call on an old friend?” Not waiting to be invited, she strode past him and entered the room.
“At this hour?”
“Were you going to bed?”
“No, but, uh…”
“Well, what were you doing?” She spied an open book set face up on the floor.
“You’ll laugh,” he chuckled nervously. “I was trying to learn how to dance.”
Didi lifted the book from the floor. It was a dance instruction manual with pictures illustrating the placement of the feet for the various steps.
“There’ll be a small orchestra at the wedding,” explained Fulbert. “Lili wants me to dance with her. But I haven’t a clue when it comes to that. I got that book from the library.”
“Fulbert,” scoffed the girl, “you don’t need a book. Dancing’s easy. It’s just moving about to music. Let me show you.”
She demonstrated a few waltz steps while she hummed something appropriate. Then she had him mimic what she did.
“Now,” she instructed, “you have to put it together with a partner. Take my right hand in your left, and put your other hand here.” She positioned his right hand so that it settled on her back, just above her waste. “Now move in step with the music.”
She hummed a waltz while the two of them danced about the room. At first, the man’s movements were jerky and uncertain, but he gained confidence as they went along. Soon they were moving in a flowing, elegant manner that brought smiles to both their faces. When Didi finished humming the tune, they both just stood there as though frozen in place, she looking up adoringly into his eyes.
“You know,” she said, “that’s the first time we’ve danced together since we were children.”
“It is?”
“I was about four years old,” she recalled. “We were in a park, and a man was playing the accordion. I insisted you dance with me, and you took me by the hands and swung me about. I laughed and laughed.”
“I can’t believe you recall that.”
“A girl always remembers her first time.”
He released her, cleared his throat, and took an awkward step back. “Well, I guess this will count as our last dance.”
“Why?” Her eyes were pleading.
“Because, from now on, I believe it’s fairly obvious who my partner will be.”
“Your marriage partner, certainly. But, beyond that…”
He looked confused. “Beyond what?”
“Oh, Fulbert,” she rocked her head back and forth. “Do I have to spell out everything for you?
You’re a man—about to become a man of means. And men of means in Paris…well, they don’t limit themselves to just one woman. Lili is one woman. I’m another woman. It’s a family tradition, you know. I’ve been trained for it.”
A glimmer of understanding came into his eyes. “It may come as a shock to you, but there are men in this city who actually remain faithful to their wives.”
“And I’d never ask you to be otherwise,” Didi assured. “She’ll always be your wife. The other woman is there simply to satisfy certain…needs. After all, your wife will be busy keeping your house and raising your children. You can’t expect her to do everything.”
He raised a scolding finger into the air and wagged it at her.
“Now look here, my little Didi…”
“I’m not your little Didi!” bellowed the girl. “I’m a grown woman! Look!” She cupped the underside of her breasts with her hands and lifted them as high as the fabric of her dress would permit.
Against the call of all his better breeding, his eyes rocketed to where she was indicating. Dumbstruck, he stared at her hoisted bosoms as though it was the first time he even noticed she had them.
“This is the body of a courtesan,” she said. “And it belongs to a woman who loves you…who has always loved you…who would do anything for you. I don’t expect you to have the same feelings for me. It isn’t necessary. You can just set me up in a little apartment somewhere. It doesn’t have to be fancy. And I’ll be there for you to visit as often as you like. Or not often, if you prefer.” Her eyes began to well with tears, her throat to constrict. “I
Didi: The Tale of a Would-Be Courtesan Page 5
