Chapter 18 #2
“Yes, and now it’s her place of eternal rest,” Raymond said. “He took her home with him. As if holding her hostage for more than twenty years wasn’t enough! Let’s go.”
The car set off again, making its way down a small road to the parking lot near Baker Beach. Thomas asked the driver to wait, saying he needed to get some fresh air before returning to the city.
“I figured as much,” the driver replied with a chuckle. “Got any extra?” he asked with a wink. “I’ll give you the ride and the wait for free.”
“What are you talking about?” Thomas asked, surprised.
“You and your imaginary friend have been chatting away for the last twenty minutes. It must be some good stuff you’re on. Sometimes I feel lonely at night in my car. I wouldn’t mind a sample of whatever it is you’re smoking.”
“I’d rather pay for the ride,” Thomas replied as he opened the door. “And you probably shouldn’t smoke while you’re driving.”
Raymond walked over to the ocean, then turned around, his eyes glued to the house they’d stopped in front of earlier. Its white paintwork and blue shutters stood out up on the hill.
“Baker Beach will be perfect,” he said. “I’ll go for walks now and then, and if I’m lucky, she’ll see me from the window. It’s not what I imagined for the two of us, but it’s not always possible to get what we want. And I have to admit, the view is incredible.”
“Maybe for you,” Thomas grumbled.
“Don’t be selfish. You have your whole life ahead of you. You get to decide what to do with it. But whenever you play at Davies Symphony Hall—and I know you will—come for a walk on this beach. Here, more than anywhere else, you’ll think of me with joy.”
“That picture doesn’t seem so joyful to me.”
“Because you’re seeing the glass as half empty.
You’re thinking of my absence instead of thinking about what we’ve had.
Think instead about everything we’ve done together.
Do you remember our bicycle tour, when I took you to see the chateaux of the Loire Valley?
I made you pedal all day long, and then in the evenings—”
“You took me to see the music and light shows at the chateaux—Chambord, Cheverny, Blois, Chaumont. I was so sore I could hardly sit.”
“Don’t forget Amboise! We stayed up so late.
We both felt exhausted and awestruck, all at once.
One day you’ll take that trip with your son or daughter, and you’ll look back at them the whole time you’re pedaling.
Maybe that’s what it means to be a father—you lead the way, but you also keep looking back to check on your children. ”
Thomas took a few steps forward, sat down on the sand, and studied the horizon. His father joined him, then nudged him in the side, his elbow passing through his son’s jacket.
“We’re going to be late for your dinner. Speaking of which, can I come along?”
“How could I possibly say no?”
“I promise to be discreet. I’ll keep my distance. I’ll sit at the bar and eavesdrop on my neighbors. Maybe it will help me remember some of my English. I could use a refresher. Who knows who I’ll run into when I get there?”
“What is it like there?”
“Let’s get going. You should never make a woman wait.”
As they walked back to the car, Raymond stopped short and gave Thomas a funny little smile. “Pick up some of this dried seaweed, put it in your pocket, and give it to the driver. Then promise him that he’ll have an unforgettable evening.”
The sun had set over the city, and Manon still hadn’t filled up a single page of her inventory log. Her thoughts were elsewhere, far from the bookstore and from San Francisco.
The wooden horses had turned into ponies, walking in circles through the sand of an arena, held by their reins.
Camille would wave distractedly whenever Manon passed by, and the man who sat on the bench talking to her was holding her hand, paying no attention at all to his little boy, who trotted proudly by.
There was a knock on the window, and Manon jumped when she saw Thomas waving at her.
“I hope I’m not too late,” he said as he opened the door.
“I completely lost track of time.”
“We’re still on for dinner, right?”
As she went to get her raincoat, Thomas called after her that the sky was clear. She looked out the window and saw he was right, but still grabbed an umbrella before locking up.
“That’s it?” Thomas asked.
“What do you mean?”
“No alarm? No security gate? Is the city really that safe?”
“No, of course not. I have both,” she said, heading back to the store.
When the gate was halfway down, Thomas suggested she pause a minute.
“What now?” Manon asked worriedly.
“I just have one last question. Do you happen to sell purses?”
“What a strange question. It’s a bookstore.”
“That’s what I thought. So, maybe the one I see in the window is yours?”
Manon opened the door, grabbed her bag, and set the alarm.
“Are you okay?” Thomas asked as they made their way toward the square.
“Since you arrived? Yes, just great. I made us a reservation . . . at which restaurant again? Oh yes, a table for two at Greens. It’s behind the Fort Mason Center for Arts and Culture, on the wharf.
The food is vegetarian; I hope you don’t mind.
I eat dairy, eggs, and fish, but I stopped eating meat.
Animals are already obsessed with eating each other.
If we do it, too, soon there won’t be any left. ”
“I don’t think cows and sheep are carnivores,” Thomas replied, watching her carefully.
“True, but you get what I mean.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Wait a second. I have a car. Normally, I park it in front of the store and . . .”
They had already walked at least a hundred yards when she turned around.
“It’s still there. I haven’t said a word, so he has no reason to do anything.”
“Has someone threatened you?”
“Not exactly . . . It has to do with a contract of sorts. The details would bore you to death.”
Thomas picked up his pace to keep up with Manon, who was taking large strides.
“Do you want me to drive?”
She wasn’t listening. She was preoccupied with looking for her keys in her bag. When she finally found them, she opened the passenger door and gestured for Thomas to get in.
“Do you think it’s inappropriate?” she asked as they made their way toward the water.
“Running two red lights in a row? Not at all. It happens to the best of us.”
“Having dinner with a stranger the night after my mother’s funeral. I mean, you’re not a total stranger, so I guess it’s okay.”
“Did you have a bad day?”
“A surprising one.”
“Good surprising or bad?”
“I’m not sure . . . And I didn’t get a thing done all afternoon. So, yes, I guess you could say I had a pretty bad day.”
“Focus on the road and we’ll talk about it at dinner.”
Manon abruptly pulled off the road and parked in front of an old garrison.
“It used to be a fort,” she explained as she got out of the car. “Now these buildings are home to a museum, a theater, and an organic market. And our restaurant.”
Thomas opened the door to the restaurant and let Manon go in first. Once inside, he noticed his father sitting at the bar, winking at him. Startled, he didn’t even notice as the hostess greeted them.
“Would you rather have dinner with her?” Manon asked.
“Who?” Thomas asked, caught off guard.
“The woman at the bar. She doesn’t seem to mind you staring at her.”
Thomas headed toward their table without answering. The waiter handed them two menus, which they studied in total silence. Thomas didn’t understand a single thing written there. “Do you know what ‘chickpea hush puppies’ might involve? Or an ‘urban macro bowl’?”
Manon ordered an avocado salad with spicy tofu and Thomas followed her lead.
“When my dad died,” he said, “I told myself I wasn’t allowed to cry, not even at the funeral. Then, a few days later, I just fell apart. I understand if your mind is elsewhere. Don’t feel obligated to stay if you don’t feel like it.”
“You’re so full of contradictions,” Manon remarked.
“How do you mean?”
“On the one hand, you’re a perfect gentleman, and on the other, you’re utterly shameless.”
Thomas frowned. “Did I say something to upset you?”
“Mom always made me wear a riding helmet before getting on a pony. I felt ridiculous, because all the other kids were allowed to ride without one. A little boy in my group used to mock me, calling me ‘coconut.’ Later, that same boy gave me his crepe when my mom had forgotten her wallet. Another time, he jumped onto the sandcastle I had spent the whole afternoon building, but then the next day, he helped me build a new one. One day, while I was eating ice cream, he elbowed me, and the cone smooshed into my face, making everybody laugh—even my mother laughed at me. Then that little monster helped me up when I fell off the swings and ran to get my mom so she could take care of my knee. And while she bandaged it, he sat there and consoled me. Now, Thomas, are you going to tell me what you were doing at her funeral, and why you lied to me?”
Thomas looked straight into her eyes.
“Another summer,” he replied, “the little girl stole my blue truck and broke it on purpose. It was a gift from my father, and I really loved it. As for me, my dad always made me wear a hat in the sun, even though the other kids on the beach never did. He bought me a sailor’s cap with a yellow anchor on the brim—a source of endless humiliation.
A terrible little girl, whom I nevertheless dreamed of being friends with, always made fun of it, calling me Popeye.
I recognized you immediately, as soon as I saw you in the mausoleum. ”
“Good for you, but you haven’t answered my question.”
“I came because my father wanted to attend the ceremony.”
“But your father’s dead, so . . .” Manon downed her glass of wine in one go. “Did he tell you that in his will?”
“No, he told me himself.”
“Your father told you that when my mother died, he wanted you to go to the funeral?”
“Not exactly. He wanted to be there himself.”
“But he’s dead . . .”
“Yes, has been for five years.”