by Harper Bliss
The last thought flitting through Margot’s brain before she dove into the whirlwind of the E.R. was, I didn’t use to be like this.
STEPH
“Have you considered taking a temporary leave of absence?” Dominique asked. Steph couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Hadn’t she given Dominique everything she had in the past six months—everything and then some. Now she was going after her job as well?
“No fucking way.” They were sitting at the dining table in Dominique’s Avenue Foch apartment, but Steph suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.
“I’m not asking you to quit your job, Stéphanie. Just take a couple of months off.”
And walk after you like a good puppy wherever you go, Steph thought but didn’t say out loud. “They’ve only just promoted me. Juliette is desperate to start working fewer hours. I’m well on my way to becoming partner. It’s simply not an option.” Steph couldn’t hide the agitation in her voice.
“Is it your bosses who will have a problem with it or you?” Dominique dropped her fork on her plate.
“All three of us will have a massive problem with it.” Aside from her own objections to giving up even more of her independence, Steph knew that Claire was sleeping with Juliette’s nemesis Dievart. And Juliette seemed to have finally convinced Nadia to give the whole baby thing a go, and was merely holding on until the upcoming presidential election was over, so she could make work of becoming pregnant instead of just pining for it. Barbier & Cyr was on the verge of being in shambles. Steph couldn’t possibly leave, not even for a week, let alone for an entire month. She was the only one who could keep the place from falling apart after Claire’s dirty little secret came out. Aside from that, despite every hour of her day being crammed full of work and the extra-curricular activities that came with being the MLR’s presidential candidate’s partner, she didn’t want to give up work. She couldn’t. Being a Barbier & Cyr employee was the only thought that kept her going.
But Steph couldn’t complain too loudly about the stifling pressure she was under, because, for starters, it would always be worse for Dominique and, secondly, everybody had warned her from the start.
Xavier Laroche, who hadn’t exactly warmed to her, had taken her apart in his imposing study one evening after he’d come out vocally supporting his daughter, and said, “I do hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Mademoiselle Mathis. An election is no walk in the park. If you’re not completely committed, it’s not going to work.”
Steph had smiled it all off, because she was riding high on love and on the overwhelmingly positive reactions fostered by the video she and Dominique had made. But now, six months down the line, she suffered for her decision every day. Outside the doors of their private life, when they went to MLR rallies and TV interviews, being Dominique Laroche’s life partner was mind-numbingly boring, and, frankly, also a little degrading. Because when she was with Dominique, Steph was always the less important of the two of them.
“Fine,” Dominique said. “It’s your choice, but you’re tired, babe. You’re not yourself. Campaigning with me is already a full-time occupation, and nobody expects you to work two jobs.”
“I don’t really know how to say this without quite possibly hurting your feelings, but my only job can’t just be being your wife. That wouldn’t sit right with me.”
“Ah.” Dominique put her fork down as well. “There we have it.”
“Just ignore my comment.” Steph had found herself becoming increasingly passive-aggressive as the campaign was nearing its conclusion. One more month, she kept repeating in her head. One more month and then this whole circus would be over. Except, if Dominique won—and that was the point of every action she undertook—it would never be over. And yes, they were trailblazing, they were letting the country—and the world for that matter—know that it didn’t matter who politicians chose as their significant other, and that was all well and good, but Dominique was at least right about one thing: Steph was exhausted.
“I will do no such thing.” Dominique shot her a warm smile. “We’re in this together, babe. I know it’s hard.”
That’s the thing, though, Steph thought, being with you was never supposed to be this hard. “Look,” Steph held up her hands in a gesture of peace, “I’ll talk with Juliette and Claire about working part-time for the coming month, until after the elections. But a leave of absence is really one step too far.”
“I understand, babe, I really do.” Dominique rose and headed over to Steph’s side of the table. She put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper in Steph’s ear, “Let me show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me every single day.” Dominique pressed her lips against Steph’s earlobe, then said, “I’ll even let you top me if you want.” Steph felt Dominique’s lips stretch into a smile against her skin.
She wanted to, oh how she wanted to, but she was just so damn tired all the bloody time. Who had dinner after ten p.m. anyway? Going to bed on a full stomach always gave her the most vivid nightmares, and zero interest in touching Dominique after they’d kissed each other goodnight. Perhaps this was the most worrying evolution of all. As far as Steph could remember, she had always—always!—been up for it. Never a doubt in her mind. If the offer was on the table, she would take it in a heartbeat. It was how she had always operated.
“I’m tired,” she said, knowing she was beginning to sound like a broken record, because hadn’t she said exactly the same thing two nights ago when Dominique had snuck up to her from behind, put her arms around Steph’s waist, and whispered the exact same words in her ear as she had now.
“I’m tired as well, babe,” Dominique murmured. “But it’s been a while.”
“I know.” Steph had to use all of her will power to not just shrug Dominique off her. “I just—” Steph didn’t know how to explain. She was the last person to expect her libido would go first. She was Stéphanie Mathis—a legend in the Parisian lesbian scene. She had so much appetite for sexual encounters that she used to frequent a place like Le Noir. But the magic, and the memories, of that secret club had disappeared into the big void of nothingness where she’d been forced to dump her past when she’d told Dominique the tiniest details of her former life. “I just don’t really feel like myself,” Steph said, truthfully. Because, as she had begun to wonder of late, how much of yourself can you possibly erase for love? Where do you draw the line?
“Maybe this will help.” Dominique was persistent, and started raining down kisses on Steph’s neck.
“No, please, just stop it.” Steph did make a dismissive gesture with her shoulder now—one Dominique couldn’t possibly misinterpret.
“I miss you,” Dominique said. Steph couldn’t see her face and she wondered if that was a sob lurking in her partner’s voice.
“I’m sorry.” Steph felt so helpless, so inadequate, but these were the only words she had.
Dominique sat down next to Steph and faced her. “This is not my first rodeo. I know what endless campaigning, and smiling, and nodding at people you can’t really stand can do to a person. Even I find it hard, and I grew up in this life.” She put a hand on Steph’s knee, who felt tears prickling behind her eyes. “I know how overwhelming all of this must be for you. Trust me, you’re not the first politician’s spouse to go through this.” She gave Steph’s knee a squeeze. “I know I’m asking a lot of you. I know that being with me is not easy. Why do you think Philippe started cheating on me in the first place? I’m full-on. This campaign is full-on. But…” She paused to look Steph in the eyes. “I won’t make the same mistake again, Stéphanie. I want you to go see someone. I know someone. She’s an old friend of mine. She’ll be discreet, and she’ll be able to help.”
“You want me to go see a shrink?” Steph couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Listen to me.” Dominique squeezed a little harder. “You’re listless, you barely eat, you, er, you’re clearly not interested in having sex with me. You’re always tired. These cou
ld be signs of a deeper-lying problem.”
Steph looked angrily at Dominique’s hands but didn’t swat them away. “What are you talking about? Of course they’re symptoms of a deeper-lying problem. I’ve only had to negate my whole identity to help you become president. When I look in the mirror, I have no fucking clue who is staring back at me, but I know one thing: it’s not the Stéphanie Mathis who brimmed with confidence and who felt comfortable in her skin. I’m not me anymore.” Steph couldn’t keep a tear from sliding down her cheek and landing right on Dominique’s hand. She brought her own hands to her eyes to stop the tears. “Oh fuck. I really don’t want to do this to you. Not now when we’re so close to the finish line.”
“Do you trust me to have your best interests at heart?” Dominique folded her hands over Steph’s and gently pulled them away from her face. “Do you?” she urged.
“Yes.” Steph acquiesced quickly, because, in the face of Dominique’s pleading stare, she really had no other option. “Of course, I trust you.” It was more herself Steph didn’t entirely trust anymore, because sometimes, when she woke up with her heart beating too fast in the middle of the night, she found herself fervently wishing Dominique would lose the presidential election. If she needed to see a shrink for anything at all, it was to erase that wish from the ever-growing list in her mind.
“Then please go to Marion. She will be able to help you feel better about yourself, I promise.”
“How can you make that promise?” Steph asked. Where did this Marion come from all of a sudden? Steph thought they’d divulged everything about their pasts—at a much quicker rate than normal couples would. Although the latter she could only guess because she wasn’t exactly an expert on relationships.
“Because I know Marion well. I’ve known her for years and years. And, well, Philippe went to see her for a while when I first ran for Députée.”
“That didn’t work out very well then.” Steph couldn’t help the sarcasm. And she had a right to be skeptical about this.
“It was a long time ago and it did help, at first.” Dominique used that tone of voice of hers that was simply incontestable.
“Fine.” Truthfully, Steph would do anything to get herself out of this funk. “I’ll go see her.”
“I know it’s not realistic for a politician to deliver on all her promises, but I vow that I will deliver on this one, babe. If anyone can help you, Marion can.” Dominique rose again and kissed Steph tenderly on the forehead. “Now let’s go to bed. We have another long day tomorrow.”
NADIA
Did Claire really think Nadia was born yesterday? Every time Nadia and Juliette arrived home late, Nadia feared that they would find Dievart walking past their building on the way to the Métro after a rendezvous with Claire. Although Dievart didn’t really strike Nadia as someone who used public transport. Either way, the danger of running into Dievart on the Boulevard Gouvion-Saint-Cyr was real enough, and how would that make Juliette feel?
“What’s up, Nadz?” Claire asked. It was not that common for the two of them to meet alone, but it did happen occasionally, although most often in times of crisis. As far as Nadia was concerned, this was a huge crisis.
Nadia had invited her to an inconspicuous bar that was far enough from Barbier & Cyr to avoid being discovered by Juliette, and at a safe distance from the hospital, and Dievart.
“Claire, please. The only thing I would desperately like to hear from you is that it’s not true.”
“What?” Did she really have the audacity to play dumb? Or was it, perhaps, actually not true? Had Dievart just been teasing Nadia mercilessly?
“You and Dievart?” Nadia was surprised by the harshness in her own tone. “You do know you can’t trust her as far as you can throw her, don’t you? I work with her. I see her on a daily basis. Did you really think she was going to keep her mouth shut?”
“Oh.” Claire shifted uneasily in her seat. “You know.”
“Of course, I know.” Nadia had trouble keeping her voice down. “The woman is a parasite, getting off on the misery of others.”
“I think you’re exaggerating a bit,” Claire said. “I mean, she’s no angel, but she’s hardly Satan either.”
“I haven’t asked you here to debate Marie Dievart’s character, Claire. We’re sitting here to discuss how on earth we’re going to keep Juliette—your best friend—from getting irreparably hurt.”
Claire sighed. “I’m so sorry, Nadz.” She seemed to be crumbling on the very spot.
“Who are you? Who is this person sitting in front of me? I truly don’t recognize the Claire Cyr I once knew.” Nadia knew she was being hard on her friend, but damn, she was so angry. “Why didn’t you just say no when she made her advances? Because I do assume that’s how it went.”
“I’ll end it today. I promise you, it’s over. From this very minute there will be no more Marie Dievart in my life. But, er, can we somehow agree not to tell Jules, please? I just think it would needlessly hurt her and she’s already been through so much.”
“So you expect me to keep secrets from my wife? For you. For someone who has proven herself despicable enough to start an affair with that woman.” Nadia was well aware that this wouldn’t be an issue at all if she hadn’t slept with Dievart herself, but she had. Claire needed to act accordingly.
“Think about it, Nadz. I understand you’re angry, but if you can look past that anger for a few seconds, don’t you think it would be better for everyone if she didn’t know? Most of all for Jules’ sake.”
Nadia shook her head. “Oh sure, and how convenient would that be for you?”
“I know I’m a bit late to have Jules’ best interests at heart, but, well, we both know her. She’s going to take this so personal—”
“Because it is personal.” Anger rose in Nadia’s chest again. “What does friendship even mean to you if you go and do that? If you go and betray your best friend time and time again? If Juliette is done with you after this—and I wouldn’t blame her if she was—then that’s just a consequence of your actions you’ll have to bear.”
“We run a company together. It’s not that simple.”
The bloody company again, Nadia thought. How about Juliette and Claire’s twenty-five-year-old friendship? Wasn’t that more important than Barbier & Cyr? “Frankly, I think Juliette is ready for a new chapter in her life.” One without you in every aspect of it, Nadia thought.
“Ah. You mean she’s ready to become a mother.” What annoyed Nadia the most was that while Claire had been sleeping with Dievart, Juliette had most likely kept on telling her everything about her life, just like she was used to doing. This must have included her growing sway on Nadia for them to become parents.
“Don’t, Claire. Just don’t bring that up right now.”
“Why not? Now that we’re being completely honest with each other, why not address every single elephant in the room?”
“We’ve only agreed for Juliette to get tested. Nothing more than that.” Although, admittedly, this had been a huge step for Nadia. And she’d made her conditions very clear.
“Just don’t sit here pretending your marriage is all about total honesty. It’s very unbecoming,” Claire said snidely.
Nadia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What was supposed to be a civilized conversation in a neutral public space, was quickly turning into a full-blown row. “Do keep your judgement to yourself. You’re in no position to take the moral high ground.”
Claire held up her hands in supplication. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I just want what’s best for Juliette at this point. And yes, I know I have screwed up royally.”
“You have to understand that this is not something I can keep from her. We’ve only just gotten married. What kind of a foundation would that be for the rest of our lives together if I were to lie to her about this?”
“An omission is not necessarily a lie.”
“Jesus, you’ve been in PR too long,” Nadia retorted
.
“Are you giving me an ultimatum?” Claire sagged into her chair, her fighting spirit seemingly leaving her. “If I won’t tell her, you will?”
“I think it’s the only way. I’m not going to omit telling her.”
“Very well. I guess we won’t be seeing a lot of each other anymore then. It was good knowing you, Nadz.” Claire’s voice broke.
“Juliette may surprise you.” Nadia was starting to feel sorry for Claire at this point, because she could very accurately predict Juliette’s reaction to this.
“Yeah right.” Claire knew Juliette just as well as Nadia did. “Good luck with that child you don’t really want,” Claire added.
All this vitriol, and the very fact of needing to have this conversation behind Juliette’s back, was so unnecessary. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think?” Nadia said sarcastically. In all the years she had known Claire, they’d never had a bitter exchange of words like this.
“I will tell her, okay? Just give me some time.”
Time? Claire’d had all these months to come to her senses. Clearly more time was not what she needed. “Why, Claire? Why her, of all the women in Paris?”
“Do I really need to explain that to you?”
Nadia ignored Claire’s comment. “Don’t tell me it’s a mere case of Dievart being so irresistible. You must know her better by now. She’s simply not a very nice person.”
“She’s hardly marriage material, that’s true. But we’re very clear with each other about what we have and what we want. It’s just sex. Nothing more than that.”
“Good heavens.” Nadia knew she shouldn’t judge, but she did anyway. “I will never understand how you could do this to Juliette. It would be different if you’d slept with her once, maybe twice, but an on-going affair? You can’t plead temporary insanity for that. It’s been a recurring conscious decision to stab your best friend in the back. That’s just…” Nadia didn’t even have the right words for how atrocious this was.
