Chapter 24 #2
“If that succeeds, won’t it solve everything? You’ll get your euro back, and you won’t have to pay the taxes.”
“True, but I can’t risk it. If I wait, and I don’t get the appeal, then I’m left owing the taxes and trying to sell the house right when I have to go back to work in Toronto.”
Guillaume looked like he might reach out but resisted. “My offer remains.”
“I have emails to read, the interview with Estelle from Cannes, then the interview for Oscar’s job,” said Marlow.
“I really appreciate the apology and the talk and the offer of help, but my brain feels like it’s going to explode.
Can I get back to you?” He nodded, and the way he looked at her—longingly, it seemed to her—sent a little shiver down her spine, but she resisted physical contact, too. Better safe than sorry.
Outside Guillaume’s house, Sabine sat in the driver’s seat of Aubin’s car. He sat beside her.
“Do I have to?” she asked.
“Everyone in Europe knows how to drive manual. So should you.”
“But you’ve driven every time we go out, and it’s been fine.”
“One day you’ll have to get somewhere, and you won’t have someone else to help.”
“I hate doing things I’m not good at,” said Sabine. “It makes me look bad.”
“You can’t look bad in front of me.” He put the stick shift into gear.
“This is first gear. That pedal is the clutch. You have to press down on it to put the car in gear. You also press down on it while taking your foot off the accelerator to change gears. To start moving the car, ease your foot off the clutch while applying the accelerator gently until you feel the engine engaging. Then you can ease off the clutch and use the accelerator to move forwards. And, of course, don’t forget to take the handbrake off. ”
“What? That’s way too many things.”
“You just need practice.”
“I don’t get it! I don’t want to get it. Can we stop this, please?”
“We have done many things in the last while—this can’t be as scary. For example, we saw your father.”
“And you performed at a chateau.”
“Terrifying,” he said. “And we’ve run from the police in the Jardin du Luxembourg.”
“Right. We’re criminals.”
“Alors! The car is off. Make sure it’s in neutral so it won’t go anywhere once it’s on. We do that with the gear shift like this.”
He put her hand on the gear shift and put his hand over hers. She was trembling.
“I will help. I am here.”
They put it into neutral together. She tried to breathe deeply.
“The clutch must be fully pressed down before you turn the key, and also when changing gear. Now, turn the car on. Don’t do anything with the brake yet.
Gently apply pressure to the accelerator to get the revs up.
Then keep doing that while easing off the clutch until you feel the car will move.
Then take off the parking brake, ease off the clutch and the car will go forward. ”
He used his hands to show her what to do with her feet. The car inched forward.
She smiled, half-thrilled, half-petrified. “I’m driving!”
They rolled slowly down the big driveway.
“Let the car go a bit faster. You’ll hear when the engine wants to move into second.”
“Don’t let me crash!”
“We’re going to shift into second gear—so press the clutch fully down, remove pressure from the accelerator to change gear, then change gear and you’ll be in second.”
She did everything he said, his hand on hers.
“I’m in second! I did it!”
“Let’s go to the end of the driveway. Then use your right foot to brake. But you’ll need to press the clutch, too, otherwise the car will stall.”
“Too much information! I don’t like it!”
His hand was still on hers on the gear shift, warm and supportive. “Yes, you do. Take your foot off the accelerator, put it on the brake, and when you’re about to stop, apply pressure to the clutch so you press both pedals at the same time.”
They came to a stop at the gates. She eyed him.
“I just drove a manual car!” She gave him a giant kiss.
“See? Everyone is terrible until they practice.”
“It’s weird, but I like not being good at something.”
“Join the club. Not that I like not being good at things, but I’m not good at lots of things. Would you like to be not very good all over again?”
“Yes, please.” She beamed at him.
Sure enough, there were thirty-nine new emails waiting for Marlow when she opened her laptop. She had twenty-two minutes until she was officially on the clock. Twenty-two minutes to untangle her thoughts.
On the spur of the moment, she dialed Noah. He picked up and put her on speaker.
“What’s shaking, favorite sister of mine?”
“Nothing. What’re you up to?”
“Making a beet and feta frittata.”
“Love that one. I only have a few minutes, so I’ll cut to the chase. I need a favor.”
“Shoot.”
“I need a loan. Twenty thousand euros. I’d be forever in your debt.
” And then without even a breath, Marlow tipped into a long, rambling blurt about her crumbling universe, including how she’d slept with Luc and Guillaume.
Noah tried to interrupt a few times, but she barreled on.
Finally, when she was out of breath, he cut in.
“Marlie, Mum and Dad are here. I tried to tell you, but you kept cutting me off.”
No. What? NO!
“What have you gotten yourself into now?” asked her father.
“Dad, it’s OK—”
“Nothing about it is OK!” said Iris in a high-pitched voice.
“It is, Mum. I was just … being dramatic—for Noah’s sake. You know how we are.”
“A twenty-thousand-euro debt is dramatic,” said Iris.
“It’s not my fault,” said Marlow. “Rémy, the fonctionnaire—”
“The what?” Bill said.
“The local civil servant. I’m sorry you heard this conversation—it was meant to be private,” said Marlow. “Noah, I guess you can’t lend me the money.”
“Don’t put this on your brother,” said Iris.
“This is your problem to solve, and yours alone,” Bill said.
“I live in a one-bedroom apartment above a garage with my teenager,” said Marlow, knowing she was about to make this worse, but whatever. “You live in Rosedale and have memberships to two clubs. You drink wine with every meal. Expensive wine. Can you help?”
Silence. Marlow’s stomach was giving her trouble again. Gurgle, gurgle.
“This is how you have always behaved, Marlow,” said Bill. “Cavalier with the details. Getting into trouble and needing to be bailed out.”
“There have been so many times,” said Iris.
Marlow wondered which incident her mother was referring to.
Breaking a crystal bowl and hiding the pieces until they were found a year later?
Skipping school the day of her Grade 10 math exam, a class she was actually acing, and flunking the course as a result?
Getting pregnant with a French filmmaker who never intended to be a father?
“You’ve always made terrible choices,” said Bill.
“If you don’t have the money, I understand,” she said, trying to be brave. “But—”
“Of course we have the money,” said Bill. “But you need to think logically, not emotionally. And so do we. We won’t throw good money after bad.”
“What good money have you thrown?” asked Marlow, voice tight.
“Stop this,” said Bill. “Abandon the house like the people before you who had the good sense to see there was nothing more to be gained. Walk away. Get Sabine, leave in the middle of the night if need be. Cancel your credit card—declare bankruptcy if you have to. Come back, dust yourself off, show up at work Monday, tell your boss you’ll put in the mileage like everyone else.
Retire at sixty-five or seventy, and then you can think about spending your summers in France.
If your pension will allow it. That is, if you even have a pension. ”
She was left stunned, like the world had tilted, then turned completely upside down, and while her feet had previously been attached to the ground by gravitational force, she was now just falling with no one to catch her.