Pardon My French

by Cathy Hapka

  Luc grinned and reached for the sugar. “I mentioned that her beautiful body was in danger of making me spill my hot coffee. Then she told me what she thought I should do with my coffee.”

  Nicole wasn’t sure whether to be amused or appalled. “So that kind of line works for you?”

  “No.” Luc stirred his coffee and took a sip. He winked at her over the edge of the cup. “Don’t look so scandalized, chérie. That waitress and I, we are old friends. It was nothing but a joke.”

  “So, a sense of humor,” Nicole commented. “That’s a good quality in a guy.” Not wanting him to think she was flirting with him, she quickly added, “Nate has a great sense of humor. It’s one of the first things I loved about him.”

  Luc gazed at her. “Humor is important. It is one of the things that makes us human, I think. What else do you see in your Nate?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Nicole wasn’t particularly comfortable with the way the conversation was headed all of a sudden. Even though Luc was being nice, she didn’t quite trust his motives. “I love just about everything about him. But hey, I thought we were supposed to be talking about school, remember? I keep answering all your questions, but you never tell me anything about yourself.”

  She meant to sound light and humorous, but it came out sounding a little like an accusation. Fortunately, Luc didn’t seem disturbed by it.

  “What would you like to know about me?” He spread both hands over the table, palms up. “I am an open book.”

  “Just anything.” Nicole shrugged. “What are you studying in your college classes?”

  “Mostly business subjects,” Luc replied, taking another sip of coffee. “I wish I could take more classes about poo and such, as you do at the international school. However, I cannot pay for many classes each semester, and my mother, she cannot afford to help me very much, and so I must be practical.”

  “Oh. So is that why you’re working as the Smiths’ nanny?”

  “Indeed,” he replied. “I am lucky to have this kind of job. The Smiths, they are happy to work around my schedule. As you know, I am there four days per week, including once on the weekend. It seems to work well for all of us so far, and I hope to continue there as long as possible. Perhaps until I finish my studies, if the Smiths remain in Paris that long.”

  “That’s cool.” Nicole couldn’t help being impressed by how open Luc was being.

  Maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about himself before now, she thought guiltily. Maybe it’s just that I wasn’t interested in listening.

  He was gazing at her across the table, looking completely relaxed. She stared back, wondering what sorts of thoughts really went on behind those intense green eyes.

  “So with your job and your schoolwork, how do you have time to sit around in cafés talking over coffee?” she asked him, half-playful and half-serious.

  He smiled. “Work and school, they are important. But it is also important to have fun. Otherwise, what is the point of living?” He took a sip of coffee. “What do you do for fun back home in America?”

  “Oh, the usual stuff. Hanging out with Nate and my friends, going to the movies, listening to music...”

  They spent the next twenty minutes or so chatting about pop culture and other casual topics. It wasn’t until Luc checked his watch and mentioned that he had to be going soon that Nicole realized she’d drained three cups of tea while the sun set and the streetlights winked on.

  “Oops,” she said, suddenly realizing she’d totally lost track of the time. It was almost late enough to try reaching Nate. “Guess I’d better go, too. I almost forgot—”

  She cut herself off abruptly, causing Luc to glance at her curiously. “What is it? I hope I did not make you late for something important. A hot date, perhaps?” He winked playfully.

  “No, it’s no big deal.” Nicole grabbed her backpack from under the table, tucking her class journal and pen into it. As friendly as their chat had been, she didn’t feel like sharing her anniversary news with Luc. She could take some teasing, but not about that. “It’s just that the Smiths will be wondering where I am. It’s almost dinnertime.”

  Luc called for the waitress again. “I’ll get it,” he said when the check arrived.

  Nicole hesitated only slightly before nodding. “Thanks.”

  As they wandered out of the café, she shot him a sidelong glance. It was strange to realize that she’d actually had a nice time talking with him. Maybe she’d been wrong about him.

  He’s no Nate, of course, she thought as she waved good-bye to him on the corner. But maybe he’s not so bad in his own French-guy kind of way....

  She was still musing over her encounter with Luc as she entered the Smiths’ apartment a few minutes later. Mr. Smith was sitting on the living-room floor playing blocks with the two older kids.

  He glanced up with a smile. “Hey there, Nicole,” he said. “How was your day?”

  “Pretty good.” Nicole almost mentioned running into Luc. But she didn’t want Mr. Smith to get any funny ideas about the two of them. “A couple of my classes were kind of interesting today.”

  Marissa looked up from her toys. “I went to tumbling class today!” she announced proudly.

  “That’s right,” Mr. Smith said, patting Marissa on the head. Then he glanced at Nicole again. “By the way, my wife just called—she’s running a little late, but she’s going to pick up some takeout on her way home. She’s expecting to be here in an hour or so. I hope you’re not too hungry to wait.”

  “I’m too hungry!” Brandon yelled.

  “It’s okay,” Nicole said, raising her voice to be heard over the little boy’s shouts. “That will give me time to call Nate before dinner. It’s our anniversary today and we set up a phone date.”

  “Oh! How nice.” Mr. Smith smiled. “Go on, then. I’ll try to keep the kids quiet so you two can hear each other.”

  “Thanks.” Nicole turned and hurried toward her room.

  Pushing away all lingering thoughts about Luc, she focused on the coming phone call. She’d been looking forward to it all week—no, longer than that. E-mails were fine, but they just couldn’t replace a real conversation sometimes. Especially on an important day like today.

  Closing the bedroom door, she grabbed the phone and quickly dialed Nate’s number. She pressed it to her ear, taking a few deep breaths to try to quiet her own pounding heart. Soon, soon she would hear his familiar voice in her ear, telling her he loved her....

  There was a click, and then his voice answered: “Yo, this is Nate. You know how this works, so go for it.” Beep!

  Voice mail. Nicole pulled the phone away from her ear and blinked at it. Then she put it to her ear again.

  “Nate?” she said into it, wondering if this was one of his jokes—pretending to be his own voice mail to trick her into thinking he’d forgotten.

  But it was really the voice mail. Shaking her head, Nicole hung up and quickly punched in the number again, with the same result.

  Hanging up again without leaving a message, Nicole glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Maybe it was still too early—school rules back home dictated that all student cell phones had to stay off during class time. If Nate had to stay behind to talk to a teacher or something, he might not have turned his phone back on yet.

  She waited five minutes, watching the seconds tick past on the old-fashioned alarm clock on her bedside table. But when she finally allowed herself to dial, she once again

  heard nothing but Nate’s voice-mail message on the other end of the line. This time she waited for the beep and then spoke, trying not to sound as panicky and confused as she felt.

  “Hey Nate, it’s Nicole. Happy anniversary, sweetie!” She clutched the phone tightly. “Um, I keep trying to call you for our phone date, but you’re not picking up....Hope nothing’s wrong or whatever. I’ll try back again. Um, hope to talk to you soon. I love you.”

  She hung up, feeling tears tickle the corners of her eyes
. Where was he? How could he have forgotten their anniversary call?

  “So he apologized, hmm?” Annike asked as she and Nicole strolled toward the métro stop after school a couple of days later. It was unseasonably warm for October, and they were taking their time to enjoy the weather. “So does that mean he’s, um, what’s the phrase one would use in America? Off the hook?”

  “Yeah.” Nicole shrugged. “I mean, I wish he’d remembered so we could have talked on our anniversary like we planned. But I’m not going to hassle him about it too much. What’s the point? I already knew he’s not exactly Mr. Detail-Oriented. I guess he just got caught up in talking to his friends or whatever and forgot to switch on his phone when he went to lunch. It’s not like he blew me off on purpose or anything.”

  Nicole forced a smile. It still hurt a little to think about how Nate had forgotten—she just couldn’t help it. But she’d already decided it wasn’t worth getting mad at him over something like that. They’d made plans to have their nice, long conversation that weekend to make up for the missed call, and she wanted to spend that time talking rather than fighting.

  Annike was giving her a searching look. “Are you sure you are okay with it now?” she asked. “You still look upset.”

  “I guess I am a little,” Nicole admitted. “But I’ll get over it. At least I have a lot going on here to distract me.”

  That much was true. Over the past couple of weeks Nicole’s life had settled into a not entirely unpleasant rhythm. She was doing well in her classes and keeping up with her homework. After school she sometimes hung out with Annike and Ada and other new friends, including the talkative Swedish girl, Petra; Ada’s fellow Aussie, Janet; and a few others. She became a semiregular at the crêperie down the street. Occasionally she stopped in at Marie and Renaud’s apartment for tea and a chat or a game of cards. Evenings and weekends were punctuated with frequent e-mail exchanges with her family, friends, and of course Nate, who had sent at least five apologetic e-mails in the two days since their anniversary.

  “Well, I just hope he appreciates you,” Annike declared. They had reached the métro stop, and she paused and turned to face Nicole. “A lot of girlfriends might not be so faithful as you if they found themselves here in Paris.”

  “I guess.” For some reason, Luc’s face popped into Nicole’s mind. She made a face, irritated with herself for the random thought. Why in the world should he come into her mind during a discussion about Nate?

  Maybe because Luc turned out to be more a part of my anniversary than Nate was? she thought ruefully.

  “What’s wrong?” Annike asked, noticing her expression.

  “Nothing.” As close as she and Annike were becoming, Nicole didn’t want to share her thoughts about Luc at the moment. “Um, I just wish you didn’t have that history paper to write tonight, so we could go do something.”

  Annike groaned. “You had to remind me, didn’t you? I suppose that’s my cue to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you then.” Nicole watched as Annike hurried down the steps and veered off toward the right. Nicole turned left and headed for the train back to the Smiths’ neighborhood.

  When she let herself into the apartment a short time later, she found Luc waiting for her. The Smiths were nowhere to be seen.

  “It’s a gorgeous afternoon, and I’ve got the rest of it off,” Luc announced without preamble. “What say we go see some sights? You’ve still barely seen any of Paris, you know.”

  “What are you talking about?” she joked, slinging her school bag onto a chair. “I’ve seen the sewer museum. What more could there be?”

  He grinned. “I have the perfect place to start. It’s a bit touristy,” he warned. “But still one of my favorite spots in Paris. I think you might like it, too.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Nicole teased. “This isn’t some restaurant where you’re going to try to trick me into eating snails or something, is it?”

  “Oublions le passé. Trust me.”

  They were out the door and halfway to the métro stop before Nicole realized Luc hadn’t really given her a chance to say no. Okay, so maybe he and Nate had something in common after all, she thought wryly, flashing back to the time Nate had impulsively decided they should go bowling instead of driving all the way to Washington to use his parents’ spare symphony tickets. Nicole had ended up eating nachos and throwing spares in her best dress and panty hose. That was Nate—he didn’t like to feel too tied down by plans and preparations, preferring to live his life at the spur of the moment. Sometimes that could be annoying, like when he forgot their anniversary or bagged out on something she really wanted to do. Other times it could be exhilarating, making Nicole feel like all the two of them really needed to be happy was each other.

  Thinking about Nate was making her homesick again, so she pushed such thoughts out of her mind. She would be home with him again soon enough. In the meantime, she might as well take a lesson from him and enjoy the adventure—at least a little.

  “Wow.” Nicole shaded her eyes against the strong rays of the setting sun. “What is that thing?”

  Luc grinned, seeming pleased by her reaction. “What do you think? Rather cool, isn’t it? Do you like?”

  “I—I’m not sure.” Nicole stared at the odd sight in front of her. She and Luc were standing at one end of a large public fountain filled with more than a dozen colorful modern sculptures, most of them moving or spitting water or both.

  She stared from one sculpture to another. Each seemed more outlandish than the last—the cartoonish reclining mermaid; a plump little heart shooting water straight up in a graceful arc; an anxious-looking elephant head; a rather creepy-looking skull-like face set high atop a jumble of dark metal; a pair of bright red lips spitting water. And near the center stood the largest sculpture of all—a giant, multicolored bird? Nicole wasn’t quite sure what it was supposed to be. It reminded her a little of the bright crayon drawings the Smith kids liked to make and stick on the refrigerator.

  Luc seemed amused. “A lot of people have the same reaction.” He waved a hand at the dozens of others standing or sitting nearby, most of whom were also staring at the artwork. “It’s known as the Stravinsky Fountain, after the famous composer. The pieces are supposed to represent some of his works.”

  “Really? That’s kind of cool. But which work is that supposed to be?” Nicole pointed to the spitting lips.

  “Ah, you caught me.” Luc laughed. “I do not know much about Stravinsky or his music.” He shrugged and smiled. “I just like the fountain.”

  “What?” Nicole put a hand to her heart, pretending to be shocked. “You mean you don’t know absolutely everything there is to know about Paris?” She pronounced the city’s name with an exaggerated French accent.

  He jumped to his feet and stuck out his hand. “Come,” he said with a grin. “We shall take your mind off your great disappointment in me by taking some pictures in front of the fountain. You will want to show your friends back home what you have been doing with yourself while here, no?”

  Nicole shrugged. “Good idea. But I didn’t bring my camera.”

  “No problem.” With a flourish, Luc pulled a small disposable camera out of his jacket pocket. “As we say here in France, voilà!”

  They spent the next twenty minutes getting passersby to take their picture as they struck silly poses in front of the sculptures. Nicole pretended to be pushing Luc into the fountain, struck sultry poses near the mermaid, or stood at the edge of the water and spread her arms, imitating the bird-thing in the background. If her friends back home could see her now, she suspected they would think she was crazy. But just at the moment, she didn’t care.

  Finally, Luc took the camera from an amused though befuddled German tourist and checked the readout. “Just one photo left,” he told Nicole. “Go on and do something—I’ll be the photographer this time.”

  “Okay, I’ve got an idea.” Nicole scrambled around the fountain, looking for t
he right angle. With some guidance from Luc, she finally figured out exactly where she had to crouch so that she could purse her lips and, when Luc angled the camera just right, appear to be giving the lip sculpture a big smooch.

  “Got it!” Luc called to her as he snapped the shutter.

  “Cool!” Breathless and pink-cheeked, Nicole danced back to him, still laughing at her own goofiness. “I can’t wait to see how that one turns out.”

  “Yes.” Luc’s smile was suddenly sly and a little dangerous. “Of course, if it’s kissing you are after, I know a much easier way to go about it.”

  Nicole blushed. Lately, Luc had cut back a little on the overt flirting. But once in a while he still caught her off guard with a comment or even just one of those piercing looks. Sort of like the way he was looking at her right now.

  “Hey, I’m starved,” she said brightly, suddenly very eager to change the subject. “Are any of these cafés any good?”

  Luc accepted the abrupt change of subject good-naturedly, as always. “But of course,” he said. “In Paris, all cafés are good.”

  Soon they were seated at an outdoor table sipping coffee and people-watching. Nicole’s gaze wandered toward the huge, odd-looking building nearby.

  “What’s that place?” she asked, pointing.

  “It is the Georges Pompidou Center,” Luc replied. “A museum of modern art and culture. I am surprised you have not visited it yet on one of your class trips. It is famous not only for the artwork within, but for the avantgarde architecture of the building itself. As a child, I called it the inside-out museum—see how the pipes and stair-cases and things are visible from the exterior?”

  Nicole stirred her coffee. “I’m sure we’ll get there at some point,” she said. “It sounds like just the kind of place Dr. Morley would love.”

  Luc smiled. “Yes, it sounds that way from things you have said. I know it impressed me from the first time I went there as a schoolboy. Of course the reason is probably that I was so impressed to see that one of the displays was an ordinary toilet hanging on the wall.”