Chapter 2 #2
In a fog, she sat across from her mother. “What the hell?” she mouthed.
“Isn’t he dreamy?” Mom whispered back.
Isn’t he young? she screamed silently. And married?
The men took their seats. Barraud poured water into their glasses. The bubbly kind. The bubbles danced in the glasses, illuminated by the flames from the tea lights. An open bottle of Chablis stuck out from an ice bucket.
“Wine?” Pierre asked.
Rafael nodded. Barraud poured. The men exchanged something in French. When Barraud walked away, Lisa glanced at Rafael. He seemed as stunned as her.
Then, and she’d never seen this in her entire life, her mother picked up a piece of bread and tore it in half. “The bread here is to die for.” She sniffed the fragrant bread and stuffed a decent-sized portion into her mouth.
“We come here a lot. What do you say in America?” Pierre asked Mom.
“We’re regulars,” Lois said after swallowing the bread.
“Ah yes, Lois, my American tutor.” He pronounced Lois like Loeeh. “Your mother is so much smarter than me.”
What in God’s name was happening right now?
“Pierre was my first art teacher when I arrived,” Mom said. “He teaches drawing.”
Her young, married lover was also her teacher. This could not get worse.
Rafael squeezed her knee under the table.
“Well, I guess that answers the question about how you met,” Lisa said. “How long have you been dating?”
“Dating?” Pierre’s brows lifted. “Did you not tell her?” He directed the question at Loeeh.
Mom finished chewing her second bite of bread. She wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin, which did nothing to clean the sheepish grin from her face. “I was waiting until tonight.” She lifted her left hand. A sparkly diamond glittered under the lights. “Pierre and I are married.”
“Please don’t be mad at your mother for not inviting you to the wedding,” Pierre said. “It was last-minute. An impulse decision.”
“An impulse decision is purchasing a magazine while standing in line at the grocery store,” Lisa said. “Getting married is not something you do on an impulse.”
Mom cocked her head to one side. “It seems to me I recall you falling in love with Rafael in three days. I’d been in love with Pierre for months already when we decided to marry.”
Lisa stared at her mother. A chilling fury overwhelmed her. She could not believe what she was hearing. Didn’t want to believe it. “I don’t know if I should be relieved your lover isn’t married or appalled that you married him without telling anyone in your family. Not to mention that he’s my age.”
“Younger, actually,” Mom said. “He’s only twenty-nine.”
“Oh my God,” Lisa said. “Oh my God. This can’t be happening.”
Rafael shifted, making his chair creak.
Lisa picked up her glass of wine in trembling hands and fixed her gaze on the enfant Pierre. “Did you know about me? About my wealth? Is that what this is about? You married her to get to me?”
Amusement glittered in Pierre’s dark eyes. “Your mother told me everything.”
“That I’m paying for her to live here?” Lisa asked, hating herself for the way her voice pitched and cracked.
She was supposed to be a trained actress.
Vocal control was top of the list of things she was supposed to have mastered.
“I didn’t pay her to come over here and marry someone younger than her children. ”
“She shared that with me, yes.” Pierre shrugged, then drank from his wineglass. He smacked his rather full, petulant lips afterward. “Melon and caramel on the finish. Delicious.”
“Honey, Pierre doesn’t care about your money.” Mom tore another piece of bread from the basket and set it on Lisa’s plate. “Try this. Your blood sugar must be low.”
“My blood sugar is not low. I’m furious.
How could you not tell me you married…this…
this child? Have you two been living on the money I send every month?
” Lisa set her glass down, afraid she might break the stem in half.
She was also afraid she might be sick right here in snooty Barraud’s bistro.
How would that look? The famous American actress barfs all over the crisp white tablecloth.
Pierre’s swarthy features twisted as if an unpleasant odor had entered his nostrils. “As much as I dislike talking about money, the American in you will insist. If you must know, my father was a very famous artist. He left me a great fortune.”
“I haven’t touched the money you’ve sent for months,” Mom said. “I let the apartment go. I’ll write you a check for whatever I owe you.”
“This is not about the money.” Lisa’s eyelids stung. God, when was her mother ever going to stop hurting her? This was absurd. In every possible way.
“Is it not possible, Lisa, that I’m in love with this glorious woman?”
Pierre pronounced Lisa like Lee-zah. She hated him. “My name is pronounced with an S, not a Z.”
“My excuse.” Another Z in place of an S.
“Honey, I thought you’d be happy for me,” Mom said. “You’re the one who suggested a love affair with a handsome Frenchman.”
“An affair. Not a marriage.”
Rafael spoke for the first time. “Lois, I’m sure you can understand we’re shocked. This was a lot to spring on us.”
Mom’s eyes snapped with something close to anger. “Isn’t that what you did to me when you showed up in Iowa?” There she was. The real Mom.
Pierre put an arm around Mom. “Lois, it doesn’t matter. We knew it would be a transition.” Again with the Loh-ee.
“You’re right, darling,” Mom said. “Lisa, I’m happy. I hope at some point you’ll see how magnificent this man is for me. He has me painting again.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Mom. But this is…he’s so young.” She turned to Pierre. “Don’t you want children?”
“Not really, no.” Pierre said. “Your mother’s already raised children. It’s not something I feel compelled to do. Even if I did, I’d give it up to be with Lois.”
“You’re so good to me,” Mom said.
“I worship you,” Pierre said, before leaning over to kiss Mom on the mouth.
Lisa’s stomach turned.
“I had to give up my dreams when I had you and your brother,” Mom said when she came up for air. “Now it’s my turn for a second chance. I’m living the life of an artist. I’ve fallen in love.”
“You’re eating bread,” Lisa said.
“I’ve always eaten bread,” Lois said.
Lisa let that one go. She didn’t need to get into it with her mother about how untruthful that was or how damaging her mother’s judgment about food and weight had been to Lisa’s life. That’s what her therapist was for. She made a mental note to schedule an appointment the minute she returned home.
“It’s nice for you, Lois,” Rafael said. The sincerity in his voice shamed Lisa.
Why couldn’t she let this go? The man wasn’t in it for the money.
But the age difference was too much. This man would eventually hurt Mom.
Lisa would have to pick up the pieces. She would be the one whom Mom took her rage and hurt out on.
There would be no Paris to soothe Mom’s feelings.
There would be nowhere to go but back to Lisa.
“Lisa? Can you be happy for me?” Mom asked.
“Sure, Mom.” It’s great you married a man you could have given birth to. Out loud, she put the brightest note she could into her voice. “It’s amazing how much your life has changed since the last time I saw you.”
Fake it until you make it. Hadn’t her acting career taught her that?
Just get through the next few hours, and then she could go back to the hotel with her husband and resume her life.
If this was what her mother wanted, then what was it to her?
Even as she said this to herself, she knew it wasn’t that simple.
The relationship between her and her mother had been tenuous when she agreed to live in Paris for a year.
This added complication was sure to make it worse.
Lisa lifted her glass. “Congratulations on your marriage. Many happy returns.”
Fake it until you make it.