I felt her go to sleep against me. It was hard to say exactly how long we spent lying there. She had drunk an awful lot. We both had. I tried to manoeuvre myself into a more comfortable sleeping position without disturbing her. I wanted to feel her body, but it was also suffocating. Sleep was elusive, even as my body wanted it. I preferred to listen to the figure breathing beside me, whoever she was. Perhaps it was all a dream I was about to wake from. And then there was the question of whether or not I wanted to wake up.
24
I woke to the sound of the street sweepers four floors below, as I always did in Paris. My mouth was parched, and my temporal lobe was throbbing. But I kept my eyes closed, remembering what I could of yesterday. It was a film with several frames missing.
It wouldn’t last. I opened my eyes. Élodie was no longer lying beside me. She had upturned the duvet, although the mattress beneath was creased from her body. I closed my eyes again. She had abandoned me, which did seem unoriginal on her part. I had thought that she was incapable of doing the same thing twice. She must have returned to her mad life and I was unlikely to see her again.
I was about to turn on the light and confront my soon-to-be inconsolable self when I saw Élodie sitting in a chair opposite the bed. She was wearing the sequinned dress, even though it was creased and rumpled. She was applying her daily film of make-up—she had been so silent and discreet.
‘Good morning, Lawrence,’ she said. Her eyes stayed fixed on the pocket mirror. ‘How did you sleep?’
I had trouble speaking. My throat was corroded from the different forms of alcohol and cigar smoke. I managed to make an affirming noise, and rubbed my neck in an effort to loosen it.
‘Good.’ She closed the mirror, careful not to catch her finger, and returned it to her handbag. Her expression was defensive and stony. ‘We did have fun yesterday, did we not?’
‘Well, yes, we did,’ I said. ‘Are you leaving already?’
‘I have an appointment. Sorry to make you feel cheap, darling.’
‘Who is the appointment with?’
Ignoring the question, she moved in front of the mirror, where she touched at her hair so that it resumed its wavy structure. It was drier and more brittle than it had been the previous night.
‘It has been nice to see you again, Lawrence,’ she said. ‘But I’m afraid that I have to go away now. You won’t see me again. You understand, don’t you?’
I sat up, alert. She couldn’t leave me here, alone and naked in this bed while she sauntered off as she pleased. And while I should have expected this from her, it did nothing to dull the effect.
‘No, I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Why do you have to go? What about your husband? What about his house? Are you going to leave that and run away from it?’
‘Of course.’
‘You won’t accept responsibility for your bad behaviour?’
‘You have no idea what constitutes bad behaviour.’
‘You are describing yourself there.’
She snorted like a petulant child. Her gaze remained in the mirror, only focussing on herself.
‘I have no interest in it,’ she said. ‘He deserves to do his own cleaning up for once.’
‘And where will you run away to?’
‘I will never tell you, because you would probably try to follow me there.’ She turned away from the mirror and gave that penetrating stare again, the one that said more than she thought. She was making another clinical assessment of me. ‘You do look good. Much better than when I met you. Why must you resist it so?’
She came to sit on the edge of the bed. I drew myself up further.
‘Why did you insist on spending the day together?’ I asked. ‘You already knew that it was going to end like this, and you knew how I felt about you.’
‘It has nothing to do with me. Do you really regret it? You agreed that it was fun.’
‘But you want to have as much destructive fun as you can and leave it for somebody else to clean up.’
‘How very perceptive you are, Lawrence.’ There was nothing carefree about the way that she said this. It was almost desperate. ‘I do like you an awful lot. You are loveable, in a perverse way. But we shouldn’t have made love last night. It was a bad idea. I hadn’t counted on how personally you would take it.’
‘You’re right, Élodie,’ I said. ‘It would be much more mature to dismiss your passion as a casual mistake. But I’m not that stupid.’ I tried to imitate her cold stare. ‘Who do you think you’re fooling? Yourself?’
‘Very funny. Can’t you see that I simply cannot have you following me? What would you do if I invited you to run away with me? Would you agree to it in a second?’
‘I would, if I knew I could stop you from making such a terrible mistake. But you would never invite me. You hate the thought of having anything constant.’
‘You have nothing to offer me, Lawrence. But Ed does. That is why I need to run away with him, not you. He knows how to take care of me. He does not judge my behaviour so unfairly.’
The thought of Selvin knowing how to take care of anybody was preposterous. He was no more than a despicable cad of Élodie’s curious ilk. Perhaps they did belong together.
She stood up. Resolved to follow her, I got out of bed. She eyed my naked body, betraying nothing.
‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘Where are you going? This is absolute madness. You’re running away with Ed Selvin. Where to? New York? London?’
‘Why would I go to London of all places?’
‘You have a flat there.’
‘In London? No, darling, I don’t think so.’ I wanted to ask her why she had lied, but she continued. ‘We’re going to Panama, if you must know. That damned silly girl, Vanessa, she is trying to hit him with alimony. And I fear that, whatever Marcel has in store for me, it will be worse. Ed has as little of his life left as I do. You have your whole life ahead of you. Go back to it.’
She was preparing to leave. I took my clothes from the floor and put them on as quickly as I could. She picked up the last of her possessions from the side table, as though it were the greatest chore.
‘Don’t you dare leave,’ I said, pulling the beautiful shirt on in such a hurry that one of the buttons came off. ‘You owe me more than that.’
‘Perhaps I do. Come downstairs with me. I will go as far as the Pont Neuf with you, and then you must go back. Is that clear?’
She left no room for negotiation. I put on my shoes, while Élodie waited impatiently at the door. I followed her out into the hallway, stretching my jacket as I missed the armhole. She drew up a hand and pushed my collar down.
‘It is important to be presentable,’ she said. ‘No matter what the occasion. Now, darling, I cannot have you dramatising this. It will not do. You knew that I wasn’t going to stay with you forever. You thought that I had gone after I left you in Biarritz.’
‘And why did you leave me there?’
‘Honestly Lawrence, you thought that it was a good idea to give me your number? I am not a floozy you happened to meet, or some constant source of pleasure negotiated on your terms. I wish that I had left you there. But I couldn’t go without giving you the time of your life first. You have a better grasp on things now, so you must use it. Don’t resist it.’
My headache had worsened. It throbbed like a cancerous growth, pushing against my skull. I felt a convulsing adrenal rush, a cold grip across my chest.
‘But why would you run away with a man like Ed Selvin?’ I continued. ‘He won’t take care of you. I can tell that from meeting him. I knew that something was wrong with him when I found out that he produces porn. How long have you known about that for?’
‘Such judgement, Lawrence. I have known about that ever since I met him.’
‘And you’ve acted in them. You were never in any crime flicks in the eighties. You were selling your body to him.’
‘Stop it, Lawrence. Of course I have been in his films. Does that really surprise you? And, more to t
he point, who are you to judge what either of us does for a living? When you haven’t the faintest idea what you want to do.’
At least it felt as though she had told the truth. I was almost relieved by Élodie’s revelation, although it changed nothing. We walked down the staircase.
‘Why would you never tell me that?’ I said. ‘Why did you have to make it a conspiracy?’
‘Because I knew how you would react. Ed is a good man. You said so yourself. I think he intimidates you because he has a way forward. You are stagnated. I had to show you that it is possible to do something, if only you want it.’
‘He is the last person that I could ever aspire to,’ I spat. ‘I don’t want to be somebody who spends his whole time belittling others, and walking around town with his latest starlet before he tosses her on the scrapheap.’
‘And you will never be like that. But you will also never stay as you are right now. I hate to think what a horrible trudge to the grave that would be.’
The lobby was quiet. A young man in uniform was putting out the breakfast dishes. The concierge waved a hand, wishing us a pleasant day. Élodie replied in a way that masked whatever thoughts were prevailing in her fortress. I did not smile or say anything.
It had begun to snow again, out on Rue Saint-Sulpice. Élodie was not shivering, and I didn’t give her my jacket this time. I imagined that Ed Selvin would be happy to. It was early, and the traffic was seeping in from the suburbs. A lone moped sped down towards the church. I followed Élodie across the road, jogging to keep up with her.
‘Can you at least tell me why you’ve showered me with these gifts?’ I gestured at my new shirt, which was starting to attract the snowflakes.
‘Figure that out for yourself. I thought that it was damned obvious.’
‘You keep telling yourself that.’
‘You have no right to question my decisions when you are so inexperienced. That is your problem. If you would only let others influence you, rather than standing by this determination to be right all the time, then you would learn how to be yourself.’
I did not agree with this, but I realised that to argue the point would only serve to prove her right. Besides this, I sensed that we had only a short time left in each other’s company. It was a small point to debate, and yet I could think of no other way to keep her with me. Even now, I needed her help.
‘Maybe that is my problem,’ I said. ‘But you have an even bigger problem: you can’t control yourself. You claim that I don’t know what I want, and yet you have no idea. You do whatever you feel like, and then you wonder why people judge you for it. How long have you been seeing Ed Selvin?’
‘That isn’t any of your business.’
‘So it was a long time. After he discovered you. You’ve been sleeping together since Biarritz, and Marcel found out about it, and all of your friends guessed it, so now you’ve decided to rebel against them because that is all you know.’
I made a grab at her arm as we came to the crossing at the Boulevard Saint-Germain. She tried to pull away, but I held it as tightly as I could. Her skin had turned so white that I could see the veins standing out against it, like strands of blue cotton laid out on porcelain.
‘Let me go,’ she said.
‘Not until you tell me the truth. Are you in love with Ed?’
‘You have no idea what love is. You read about it in books, for God’s sake. I bet your definition comes from the dictionary, doesn’t it? I don’t need to be in love with somebody for them to be the most important person in my life.’
‘So that’s what Ed is? I can tell you right now that he isn’t in love with you.’
‘Oh, and I suppose that you are because we have known each other for all of two days. For your information, I have been seeing Ed periodically for the last ten years, but we have never made love. He is my escape. You are not. Now let me go.’
‘No. That isn’t true. You’ve told me things that you would never tell anybody else. I know who you are, and he doesn’t.’
‘You need to grow up, Lawrence. You already have a little, but you need to go further. Now please, do let’s enjoy ourselves while we still can.’
I released my grip. Her glistening red lips trembled.
‘So you have made your mind up,’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘And you wouldn’t even consider staying with me?’
‘No, darling, I wouldn’t. Now may I borrow that jacket? It really is damned freezing.’
I placed the jacket over her shoulders. It suited her. She made it her own.
We continued down the Rue de Buci in silence. The cafés and the boulangerie were opening, and the first customers were beginning to line up. Some of them looked at us with curiosity: I without my coat and shivering, she in her rumpled evening dress and shoes that should have caused her to trip in the snow. Somehow she kept her balance. She did not need my support. I breathed in the artificial scent of pastry, and realised that I was as hungry as a clochard. I had eaten nothing since lunch the previous day. Everything had been put on indefinite hold since then.
‘Tell me something funny, Lawrence,’ she said as we reached the corner of the Rue Dauphine. The Pont Neuf was visible at the end of the street. ‘Please. I need to hear something funny.’
‘I’m not funny. You know that. I can never measure up to your standards.’
‘No. But you can try.’
‘I guess going to Panama is funny. You won’t have to pretend that it’s summer anymore.’
This brought a smile to her lips. She was feeling around for my hand. I considered not giving it to her, but she held it firmly. At any other time I would have felt the energy and affection surging between us. Instead everything was contradictory. She led me down the street in silence, as the snow continued to fall. It was lighter now than it had been. The tranquillity was only disturbed by the passing traffic and the faint sound of construction work a few blocks over.
‘You can’t deny that we achieved what we set out to,’ she said. ‘We did have an awful lot of fun. Isn’t that enough?’
‘Maybe it is. I wouldn’t change anything, even if I wanted to.’
‘Even my apparent selfishness?’
‘Least of all that.’
Her pink cheeks rose up. ‘So you really have learnt something. Unless you are trying to placate me.’
‘You know me better than that, don’t you?’
‘I know everything about you. That is why I trust you. It is a shame that you have never trusted me.’
This was undeniable. I could not imagine anybody trusting Élodie Lavelle. Perhaps that was the real difference between Ed Selvin and me. We continued to walk in silence until we reached the end of the street. Some of the tourists were already out, taking photographs of the snow from the bridge and messaging them to their friends.
‘All right, Élodie,’ I said. I tried to control my voice, even as it faltered. ‘I should let you get on your way, wherever you end up. Somehow I don’t think it will be Panama.’
‘No. But it will be somewhere.’
We stayed with each other on the street corner for what felt like a much shorter time than I knew it to be. I tried to memorise her every detail. But I also knew that I could never preserve Élodie. She embraced me and teetered on her high heels so that she could reach over my shoulder. I ran my hands over her back, imagining the moles and the scar under the jacket.
‘I have to do this, Lawrence,’ she whispered. ‘You know me. I can never stay in one place. And nor can you. You have to keep going.’
I thought that she might have been crying. Her voice cracked. But when she drew back her eyes were as crystal and dry as they had ever been.
She patted me on the shoulder. ‘Chin up, darling. You can have fun without me. And, if all else fails, rest assured that you are the only person who ever understood me.’
I was going to tell her the same thing, but I couldn’t speak. She was about to take the jacket off, but I shook my head and
held a hand up. It was hers now. She smiled and turned to cross the road. Her shoes glided over the cigarette ends and broken glass collected in the gutter. I remained on the street corner and felt my feet go numb. She was about to look back, but she caught herself and sailed across to the other side of the bridge. I waved nonetheless, and told myself that she had seen it. I kept watching until she had disappeared into the crowd of tourists beyond the haze of snowfall.
The numbness spread from my feet to my whole body. Shivering, I walked up the street to a world that had become much smaller. I tried not to think of all the things that I might have said to keep her from making that terrible mistake. But then, I supposed that she had made it a long time ago. Whatever it was. Perhaps I had made the same mistake. For some reason this thought struck me as funny. It was the greatest joke. I laughed to myself all the way to Saint-Sulpice.
25
‘Hello?’
‘Lawrence. We need to talk.’
‘Hi Sophie. How are you? I tried to call yesterday, but you weren’t picking up.’
‘I know. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t talk to you yesterday. Are you doing anything?’
‘Not much. What’s the matter?’
‘Let’s be honest—you know as well as I do that this isn’t working. I haven’t seen you for months. I can’t even remember you that well. It’s like you’re a stranger now. And you don’t know when you’re coming home.’
‘I told you—I’ll finish university here, and then I might do some more travel, and I will be home before the end of the year.’
‘Yeah. I don’t want to wait around for someone who obviously doesn’t want to come back.’
‘So, what should I do?’
‘There is nothing you can do. Lawrence, I’m really sorry, but you missed your chance. I’ve met someone else.’
‘What?’
‘You might know him. He went to your school, and now he’s interning at a law firm. Don’t be upset. I want us to stay friends. But we were never much more than that, were we?’
‘I thought you were waiting for me to come home.’
The Train to Paris Page 18
