Chapter Five #2
“Please,” Levin said, gesturing at the empty space.
“You take it. I’m going to run to the newsstand quickly.”
“We don’t have much time,” Apolline said.
“I’ll walk over with you,” Levin said.
“That’s okay. I can go alone.”
“I know that. But I usually stop on my way to work. I didn’t have a chance this morning. I’d like something to read on the ride.”
“Fine. We can both go.”
“I don’t need your permission, you know.” His words were cool.
“Fine.”
“Take your bags with you,” Apolline said. “I don’t want to watch them. And if you two keep carrying on like this, you’ll miss the train.”
I looked at her, aghast at her suggestion. “I’m not missing the train.”
“Oh, yeah. Here it comes.” A rumbling approach grew louder.
We all three looked at each other for a dumb beat, then Apolline snapped us out of it. “Go, for heaven’s sake. Or you’ll miss your chance.”
I grabbed my bags and hurried back down the platform toward where I was sure I saw a newsstand, hoping that Levin had decided to stay behind. No luck on that. When I slowed down to reconsider where I needed to go, I glanced over my shoulder and there he was, toting his bags a pace behind me.
“Where did you say you saw the newsstand?”
“I thought it was right here.” Had I taken a wrong turn? The station seemed suddenly larger than it had been only minutes ago. “But maybe we have to go back upstairs.”
“I’m not sure we have time for that.” The train was sliding to a hissing stop behind us.
But it was full of people who needed to disembark. And it wasn’t scheduled to pull out for at least another twenty minutes. “You can go back if you’re worried. I’ll meet you there.”
“It’s fine. I need my papers too. Let’s go.”
We climbed the stairs, which seemed more crowded than they’d been when we’d passed through a few minutes ago.
“Is that it over there?” He pointed into the distance. The newsstand, which I’d been so sure was close, was all the way back by the ticket counter. Swerving to avoid a woman with two small children, I took off across the crowded station. If I hurried, there was plenty of time.
But nothing from that moment went smoothly, if it ever had been.
We reached the newsstand and both quickly found what we wanted.
I grabbed the Le Figaro , Le Point , and La Nation .
He picked up a Le Petit Parisien , Le Matin , and a crime novel.
I noted his reading selections, refusing to feel any sort of way about his inner life.
I didn’t care. I swear I didn’t. The line to pay was short—only one woman in front of us.
But then she got into some tedious discussion with the news agent and haggled over the price of a magazine.
Next was my turn. I paid, and then Levin did as well.
But he paid with a large coin and the news agent had to find and open his spare cash box to make change.
Everything seemed to be taking forever, but time didn’t slow for us, unfortunately.
After getting what we needed, we wove our way back across the busy station and hurried down the stairs to the platform. The train was still there. We were going to make it.
Or we should have. But then a large man bumped my bag, which bumped my leg and knocked me off balance.
My foot flew out and took the rest of me with it.
For a brief moment, I was airborne, flying backward through space.
Then I landed hard on the stairs, freeing my bag from my grip, and sending it hurdling onto the ground.
When it hit, the valise bounced and twirled like a ballerina before crashing back down.
The latch split open and the contents—my corsets, my stockings, my toilette, my comfy robe—exploded forth like confetti.
I lay there helplessly watching as my things came to land on various public surfaces and passersby.
I couldn’t tell you which hurt worse, the ache in my rear and elbow where I made impact with the hard stairs or the sting of my embarrassment that the contents of my luggage were scattered all over the place.
One of my best pairs of black silk stockings landed on a burly gentleman’s shoulder. His face turned as red as mine felt.
The whistle of our departing train screamed at the same moment Benoit turned back and saw me on the ground.
“Oh no!” He yelled, though I could barely hear him over the commotion.
I thought—hoped?—for a second that I’d pass out or die. But then he was there, tossing his bags aside and reaching for me the way one might reach for a baby.
“Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Concern creased his forehead. Genuine concern. He lifted me as if I were weightless and righted me with the utmost care.
He tended to me for an astonishing and horrifying moment, and then the motion of the train leaving the station drew my eye.
“Are you all right?” He repeated the question when I didn’t say anything. He was looking at me as if I were a fragile doll.
“No, dammit, I’m not all right. My underthings are all over the place, and we’re missing the train!”
I pointed, and he looked. Panic flooded my mind. What were we going to do?
But when he turned back to me, he shrugged. “We can catch the next one.”
Then he helped me down the last few stairs, made sure I was steady, and started cleaning up my clothes. The throbbing pain, compounding with my growing humiliation and the anger about missing the train squeezed me into a fury.
“Please,” I begged through clenched teeth. “Don’t do that.”
He was picking up my things with the same enthusiasm as children searching for pretty stones. He lifted my best garter between two fingers and held it aloft. The pink lace and ribbons fluttered in the breeze of the departing train. And the look on his face was infuriating.
“Stop it!” I screamed, and he nearly dropped it.
But he didn’t. He simply tucked it back into my valise and hurriedly swept up the remaining garments.
I have never been so mortified in my life.
Never. And I wanted to kill him. I snatched the handle of my bag out of his hammy fist. “Stop touching my things. I can get them.”
“I was just trying to help.” He held up his hands in surrender. Then, with indignation, he said, “For god’s sake.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said I was trying to help, and you’re angry with me? That’s simply ungrateful.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I’m not grateful. How about that? I would be happier if you’d have just gotten on the train and left me here.”
His jaw dropped open and hurt flashed across his face. But he didn’t respond. A small gaggle of onlookers had gathered, as if we were circling each other in a boxing ring, and they might place bets on the outcome.
I smoothed my hair, which had come loose during my tumble.
And I swallowed hard to fight back all my emotions, conscious that people were watching, and we likely looked like idiots.
I put all my focus on repacking my bag and collecting my thoughts.
We’d missed the train. I wasn’t even sure what happened now.
I didn’t want to cry, desperately didn’t want to do that.
But my eyes welled as I closed my bag and stood up.
My backside and arm ached. And the only person with me was my primary foe.
Everything was terrible, worthy of tears for sure.
But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—dare. Not in front of him.
“It appears Apolline has gone on without us.”
“Oh, well, of course. She probably would have.” I nearly choked on the words. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I’ll call the paper and tell them what happened. Then we’ll get our tickets switched. It will all be fine.”
I bit my lip as the tears welled again. I would die if I cried. I sniffed and that seemed to hold it back. He put a comforting hand on my forearm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Hating myself, hating him for being so nice, I groaned. “I’m fine. Just stop asking. This is your fault anyway.”
“My fault? I didn’t push you down the stairs, darling.”
“Don’t darling me! If you hadn’t paid for your papers and your book with a gold Napoleon, then we wouldn’t have been in such a hurry.”
“How was I supposed to know he wouldn’t have change. What news agent doesn’t have change? And it was your idea to go to the newsstand, you know. Which you—you, mademoiselle—insisted was close by. When really it was on the other side of the station.”
“Well, if you’d have stayed with Apolline, you could be on your way to Cabourg right now.”
“Are you serious? You know we both could have gone without the papers to read. I would have been perfectly happy making conversation the whole trip; because I am a decent human being.”
“Oh?” My pulse raced and a heated fury that felt strangely sexual whipped up inside me. “And what does that make me in your estimation? Not decent?”
“How about cruel? Cold and cruel. Does that sound more like it?”
“Fine.” We were standing at the base of the stairs, facing off.
People were still watching, and there was no way I could count on him to be the bigger person.
So I relented. Swallowing hard, I said, “Merci. Is that what you want? Merci, Benoit, for stopping to help me. I’m fine.
I can take care of myself. Let’s just go find out about the next train. ”
“Yes, let’s.” He sniffed, perhaps noticing our audience.
I had sacrificed friendships to keep my job, to get opportunities like this.
I needed to do well. I needed to beat him.
I couldn’t let him distract me with charm or insincere concern for my well being.
Because there was no way it was anything more than that.
The stakes were high and rising. This was war.
And I had to wage it carefully. Screaming at him in a train station, or letting this situation escalate any further would not benefit me in the long term.