vinaigrette, and a meal was ready to eat within a half hour of arriving from the airport.
It did not get easier to find things to say during dinner. But thank heavens for Lucas who spoke at length about various American presidents, foreign policies, current art exhibitions in Paris that she had to not miss, the weather, and whatnot. Lola responded the best she could, eating with one hand, an impressive balancing act since Simon was back to sleep over her shoulder, but she spoke charmingly, making every effort to seem approachable and tried, unsuccessfully, to include her daughter in the conversation. Meanwhile, Paul and Laurent goofed off throughout dinner and Maxence wasn’t making eye contact or speaking. But since Annie was herself having trouble making eye contact, could she blame him? Maxence was staring, and that was rude, but then again, what was she doing? She did not so much look at Lola as detail her inch by inch, goggling at her, counting the pores on the skin of her nose. She found no flaw, though she wondered about that mouth. Where did she get that mouth? Was it from an Angelina Jolie body part catalogue? Whoever had mouths like this? And her breasts were huge. Huge!
After dinner, Lola took Lia and Simon to bed and Annie walked Lucas to the door. “Your job here is done,” she whispered to him. “Very well done. Please be back tomorrow at 6:00 AM sharp for further assignments.”
“Would 4:00 AM be too soon?” he whispered back. “As a matter of fact, I never want to leave this house again.”
“Oh, she’s that hot, huh?”
“There’s something too perfect about her makeup, though,” he said, whispering lower. “And her nails are strange.”
“How strange?”
“They seem fake.”
She laughed, “they
are
fake.”
Lucas opened his eyes wide, “how can one fake nails?”
“Never mind. It’s an American thing.”
“Her lips,” he said wistfully “are... pornographic. And those breasts...”
“Always the poet,” Annie laughed as she pushed him out of the house. She
rounded up the boys and together they tiptoed upstairs, whispering and giggling,
unclear as to how to navigate a house that already smelled and sounded
different. In bed, peeking from under his blanket, Maxence said, “aren’t they weird? I think they’re really weird.” She straightened the cover and moved the hair away from her nine-year-old’s eyes. “What’s so weird about them?”
“How do I know?” Maxence shrugged.
“How tall are they?” Paul wondered, his eyes closing already.
“It’s time for bed,” she said. She went from Maxence, to Laurent, and then to Paul for kisses and hugs.
“I love you a gazillion,” Paul said in her neck.
“I love you a googolplex,” Annie whispered back.
Annie went back downstairs to clean the dishes, relieved to be finally alone with her thoughts. She filled one of her Japanese cast iron teapots with water. Each time Johnny had come back from Japan, it was with a teapot, each one a small piece of art. “For your collection,” he would say.
“Why do you call it my collection? It’s your collection,” she remembered saying.
“It’s my collection for you.”
“I think I should come along the next time you go to Japan. Choose a collection for myself.”
“Next time? What’s the big hurry?”
She put the teapot on the stove and began cleaning the dishes. Of course she never ended up going to Japan, but that’s hardly what bothered her. What bothered her is that she no longer had any desire to. Here she was, encouraging strangers to start over, but the fact of the matter was, she was stuck in her solitude, her circular thoughts that revolved around a single day less than three years ago. She rinsed a pan and moved it to the drying rack to the right of the sink.
“Your water is boiling,” said Lola’s voice.
Annie jumped. “Oh goodness, I didn’t hear it. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Lola was wearing jeans and had taken off her makeup.
It did not get easier to find things to say during dinner. But thank heavens for Lucas who spoke at length about various American presidents, foreign policies, current art exhibitions in Paris that she had to not miss, the weather, and whatnot. Lola responded the best she could, eating with one hand, an impressive balancing act since Simon was back to sleep over her shoulder, but she spoke charmingly, making every effort to seem approachable and tried, unsuccessfully, to include her daughter in the conversation. Meanwhile, Paul and Laurent goofed off throughout dinner and Maxence wasn’t making eye contact or speaking. But since Annie was herself having trouble making eye contact, could she blame him? Maxence was staring, and that was rude, but then again, what was she doing? She did not so much look at Lola as detail her inch by inch, goggling at her, counting the pores on the skin of her nose. She found no flaw, though she wondered about that mouth. Where did she get that mouth? Was it from an Angelina Jolie body part catalogue? Whoever had mouths like this? And her breasts were huge. Huge!
After dinner, Lola took Lia and Simon to bed and Annie walked Lucas to the door. “Your job here is done,” she whispered to him. “Very well done. Please be back tomorrow at 6:00 AM sharp for further assignments.”
“Would 4:00 AM be too soon?” he whispered back. “As a matter of fact, I never want to leave this house again.”
“Oh, she’s that hot, huh?”
“There’s something too perfect about her makeup, though,” he said, whispering lower. “And her nails are strange.”
“How strange?”
“They seem fake.”
She laughed, “they
are
fake.”
Lucas opened his eyes wide, “how can one fake nails?”
“Never mind. It’s an American thing.”
“Her lips,” he said wistfully “are... pornographic. And those breasts...”
“Always the poet,” Annie laughed as she pushed him out of the house. She
rounded up the boys and together they tiptoed upstairs, whispering and giggling,
unclear as to how to navigate a house that already smelled and sounded
different. In bed, peeking from under his blanket, Maxence said, “aren’t they weird? I think they’re really weird.” She straightened the cover and moved the hair away from her nine-year-old’s eyes. “What’s so weird about them?”
“How do I know?” Maxence shrugged.
“How tall are they?” Paul wondered, his eyes closing already.
“It’s time for bed,” she said. She went from Maxence, to Laurent, and then to Paul for kisses and hugs.
“I love you a gazillion,” Paul said in her neck.
“I love you a googolplex,” Annie whispered back.
Annie went back downstairs to clean the dishes, relieved to be finally alone with her thoughts. She filled one of her Japanese cast iron teapots with water. Each time Johnny had come back from Japan, it was with a teapot, each one a small piece of art. “For your collection,” he would say.
“Why do you call it my collection? It’s your collection,” she remembered saying.
“It’s my collection for you.”
“I think I should come along the next time you go to Japan. Choose a collection for myself.”
“Next time? What’s the big hurry?”
She put the teapot on the stove and began cleaning the dishes. Of course she never ended up going to Japan, but that’s hardly what bothered her. What bothered her is that she no longer had any desire to. Here she was, encouraging strangers to start over, but the fact of the matter was, she was stuck in her solitude, her circular thoughts that revolved around a single day less than three years ago. She rinsed a pan and moved it to the drying rack to the right of the sink.
“Your water is boiling,” said Lola’s voice.
Annie jumped. “Oh goodness, I didn’t hear it. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Lola was wearing jeans and had taken off her makeup.
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