I Looked for the One My Heart Loves (27 page)

46

In early July,
hordes
of Parisians left the city for their summer vacation. They were all the more happy to head elsewhere as the sweltering heat was turning apartments into furnaces­.

“My God,” Alexis said when Anne arrived at his place, “I can hardly breathe.”

As he sank into a couch, Anne said she was going to make some iced tea.

“The more I drink,” Alexis said, “the more I feel dehydrated. …”

Paying him no mind, Anne stepped out into the garden to get some fresh mint. Seeing her enjoy the smell of vegetation, Alexis wondered where she found the strength to come and go as though the temperature was perfect. His head was pounding, and so he got up and headed for the bathroom, where he splashed his face with cold water and swallowed a couple aspirin.

Anne was taking ice cubes out of the freezer when the phone rang. At first, Alexis spoke naturally, but then he listened in silence for a long while and began to pace the room. Anne realized that the call was from Canada.

“Stay at Marc's,” Alexis finally said.

Anne waited for Alexis to hang up the phone before handing him his drink. He looked preoccupied.

“That was Guillaume,” he said. “His mother made a scene at his girlfriend's parents' home. He's never been so angry before.”

According to Guillaume, Geneviève was in some sort of manic state of mind. Since she did not like Guillaume's new girlfriend, she had said horrible things about her right to her parents' faces. Since then, Guillaume had been living with a friend.

“Geneviève is never going to be all right,” Alexis said. He started to pace the room again and added, “She's always going to poison Guillaume's life with emotional blackmail and threats of suicide. She did it to me for years!”

While he went through the pile of records, Anne sat on the couch. Looking out the window, she saw that nothing was moving in the garden. If only a thunderstorm would come to free them from this heat, this tension! Hearing the first notes of the
Goldberg Variations
, she shut her eyes. Bach's music always had a soothing influence on her. Was it the same for Alexis? Had he selected this music to exorcise his worries?

Night was falling when they first heard the thunder off in the distance.

“Alleluia!” Anne said, walking to the window.

Lightning exploded across the sky, and the wind was rising, but the first drops of rain took a good while to come down. As soon as she heard them pelt the garden's gravel, Anne stepped outside and, arms outstretched, began spinning around in the rain.

“Come on!” she called to Alexis.

Soon, they were drenched from head to toe. Feeling as though their bodies were reenergized, they hugged and laughed.

“We should head back inside with that lightning,” Alexis said finally.

As soon as they entered the living room, Anne took off all her clothes. Though her hair and body were wet, she didn't feel like getting dry. Alexis having also undressed, she walked over to him. As he caressed her now cool skin, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and let the full weight of her body rest against his. She whispered in his ear words he couldn't understand because of the storm raging outside. With only a few steps, he took her to the couch, flipped her onto her stomach, and began kissing her lower back. …

The rain had lost some of its intensity and thunder could be heard intermittently in the distance. Lying on the cushions strewn across the living room floor, Anne could smell the strong odor of vegetation coming off the garden. Through the opened windows, nature was invading the apartment. Alexis, too, was enjoying its effects. A hand resting on her lover's stomach, he was relaxed, though still worried about his son over in Montreal. He brought his face right next to hers.

“Are you sleeping?” he whispered.

“I was going to ask you the same thing!”

“I was thinking about the two of us.”

“You do that sometimes?” she said, kidding.

They finally fell asleep, and then the bells of the Church of Saint-Pierre woke them up. The sun was shining in the cloudless sky.

“Want to have breakfast at the café?” Alexis asked Anne.

At that time of day, Place du Tertre and its surrounding streets were deserted. After making sure that the chairs and the table were dry, they sat on a terrace overlooking the square where they had spent so much time as kids. While they ate croissants and drank coffee, Alexis's mind began to wander back in time. Getting a place in Montmartre had jogged his memory lately. With more precision, he could see himself as a boy, going to school, working in his father's bookstore, playing with his friends. What would have become of him if a little obstinate girl from the neighborhood hadn't guessed that they were destined to be together?

He watched Anne toss crumbs of croissants at some sparrows. In spite of their hectic night, she showed no trace of fatigue. The idea of having to go to Canada upset him. He really didn't want to be separated from Anne. In the fall, he would leave for Vienna for one last school year. If all went well, he would also finish writing his biography of Gustav Mahler. Then he would settle in Paris for good. If Anne agreed, they would then make their relationship known to everybody.

“As long as we don't live under the same roof,” she said when he asked her about it.

“Whatever you want. …”

After closing the gallery for the summer, Anne headed for Cormery to visit her parents. Isabelle and Aurélie had both decided not to go along on the trip.

“Grandpapa and Grandmama are too old!” Anne's youngest daughter said.

Anne wasn't thrilled with her daughter's attitude, but she had to agree. More and more helpless, Monique had come to depend on a nurse with whom she argued most of the time. As for Yves, he did little else than go fishing on the banks of the Indre River. Invariably, the couple took their meals in front of the television, which restricted their conversations. Anne's parents almost never talked to each other anymore, except when criticizing politicians, today's youth, and the high rate of divorce nowadays. Anne knew that they had never forgiven François for leaving their daughter to marry another woman.

“Does he take care of the girls?” Monique asked Anne.

“He's there when they need him.”

“That's not enough!”

“They're independent.”

“Independent! Aurélie is only eighteen!”

“They can count on me!”

“Yes, I know, but you can't replace their father! Besides, you work all the time!”

“Isabelle lives in England and Aurélie is studying hard. The fact that I'm at the gallery is not a problem.”

Monique sighed heavily.

“You always have to be right,” she said.

“I'm not trying to be right,” Anne said calmly.

“If you hadn't spent so much time working, maybe François wouldn't have left. But each of you wanted to have a career in an odd field. Me, I spent my entire life taking care of your father …”

“I know, Mama.”

“As a result, we're still together. It's not right for a woman to be by herself.”

Anne would have liked to put her mother's mind at ease by telling her that she had a man in her life, but in return she would have had to listen to a sermon about free unions. She was in no mood for that. Sadly, she realized that she couldn't wait to leave Cormery. For so many years, her parents had been her role models, but now Anne almost felt like a stranger under their roof.

As soon as she returned home in Paris, she got a phone call from Alexis, who had just hit the road with Guillaume. The first few days in Montreal had been stormy, until Geneviève wound up hospitalized again.

“In the state she's in right now, it was best that Guillaume and I left together. We'll see how she is when we come back.”

They were planning a camping trip in Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island. They were going to visit lighthouses and hang out on the beach.

“I miss you terribly,” Alexis said before hanging up the phone.

During the ten days Anne spent with Aurélie and Simonetta in a hotel in Lucerne, Alexis was on her mind. This was the first time Simonetta had ever gone on vacation. Though a bit stunned at first by the fun, carefree atmosphere of the city, she admitted to Anne that she was enjoying herself.

Every day Anne slept in, and then sat and relaxed on her balcony until lunchtime. All the while, Simonetta took boat trips on Lake Lucerne. During stopovers in a variety of tree-lined villages and small towns, she took local trains that took her up the surrounding mountains. On a few occasions, Anne and Aurélie went with her on such excursions.

Before dinner, Simonetta ordered a dry martini, which she sipped while waiting for her fellow travelers to meet up with her. One evening, as she was getting up to head for the dining room, she dropped her handbag, spilling its contents on the floor.

“It's okay,” she told Anne, who was bending down to pick up Simonetta's things.

Among them was a sketchbook. It was open to a drawing of the lake and mountains surrounding it.

Surprised, Anne pretended like she hadn't noticed. And so Simonetta had secretly begun to work again!

47

Alexi
s
c
a
m
e
b
a
ck on
August
15. Waiting for him at the airport, Anne felt the same trepidation as in the beginning of their relationship. And the flight was late! As soon as he saw her, Alexis's face brightened. She noticed that he had lost some weight and that he looked tired.

As they drove toward Paris, Alexis told Anne about his vacation. Both he and Guillaume had enjoyed their trip across the Maritimes. They went whale watching on the Saint Lawrence River, they visited a national park that was home to thousands and thousands of gannets, they camped on deserted beaches in Nova Scotia, and slept in cozy B & Bs on Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick. Everything would have been perfect if Guillaume hadn't dreaded returning to Montreal to his mother.

“No matter how many times psychiatrists tell him that Geneviève is suffering from an illness,” Alexis told Anne, “the kid still feels guilty for not being able to understand what his mother wants out of him. There's this poisoned link between them, and he can't get rid of it. I suggested he come to France and continue his schooling here, but he won't leave his girlfriend. … Thank God, Geneviève is going to remain hospitalized for a good while. Even her parents are relieved about that. They adore their daughter, but they're at the end of their rope.”

Alexis was thrilled to be back in his apartment. He walked over to the piles of books on his desk and grazed them with a fingertip. The previous day, Anne had come over to make the place nice for him, filling the fridge with the food and drinks he liked, cleaning up the garden, and setting a bouquet of flowers on the kitchen table.

“You thought of everything,” Alexis said, kissing her.

He opened his suitcase and took out the presents he had bought her in Canada: a fancy notebook, colorful pens, and aromatic handcrafted soaps.

Soon, music filled the apartment. Anne began to hum as she made a tomato salad, which she carried out to the garden. During the meal, she told Alexis about her trip to Switzerland.

“Simonetta is trying to keep it secret,” she said, “but she started to work again.”

“Just for pleasure or is she planning a comeback?”

“I couldn't tell you. I think that passing on her know-how to Aurélie made her rediscover her old passion.”

Anne got up and set a lawn chair down in the shade.

“I think I'm going to take a nap,” she announced.

Alexis wished he could also get some sleep, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. For a while now, he had a very hard time sleeping well. Right now he was jet-lagged, tired from his trip with Guillaume, and stressed out because of the tension produced by Geneviève.

A wasp hovered above Alexis's glass of Coke. He shooed it away with the back of his hand. The wasp took off, and then got dangerously near Anne, who was sleeping with her mouth slightly open. Alexis knew that Anne's lips were sugary since she had eaten some grapes. He hesitated to call out her name because the wasp might sting her if she woke up with a start. He slowly got up and chased away the insect for good with a sharp slap.

“Ouch!” he said, looking at his wrist.

The wasp had managed to sting him.

Anne moved in her chair and opened her eyes.

“You'd be better off inside,” Alexis said.

“Why's that?”

“Wasps.”

As Anne made her way to the bedroom, Alexis looked at the sting. The pain was now shooting up his arm, and it was beginning to swell. He felt very hot all of a sudden, and his heart was pounding. He splashed his face and hair with cold water at the kitchen sink, but it didn't help. He then decided to tell Anne.

“I don't feel well at all. …”

“What do you mean?”

“I was stung by some damn wasp.”

Seeing the size of Alexis's arm, Anne jumped out of bed.

“We have to go to the hospital.”

“The pharmacy is fine.”

“No way! I'm taking you to the hospital right this second. You can't mess around with that sort of thing!”

When they arrived at the Hôpital Bretonneau's emergency room, Alexis had difficulty breathing. Anne had driven as fast as she could on the way to the hospital, her gaze falling on Alexis's arm every few seconds. It kept getting bigger and bigger. As soon as Anne explained what had happened, the nurse took Alexis to a room, and a doctor showed up almost right away.

“Is this the first time you've reacted so violently to an insect bite?”

“Yes, the first time,” Alexis managed to say.

The doctor nodded and then prepared a syringe.

“We're going to keep an eye on you for a few hours,” he said after injecting Alexis with adrenaline. “Everything should be just fine. But you're obviously allergic to wasp stings. You're going have to be careful in the future.”

Anne came over to join Alexis.

“Do you feel better?” she asked.

“At least I can breathe now, and my heart isn't trying to jump out of my rib cage. …”

He smiled and added, “That was one heck of a home­coming!”

When they were allowed to leave the hospital, Alexis felt okay, except that the meds had made him drowsy. Once home, he headed straight for his bed, as Anne made some lemonade.

“Are you going to stay with me?” Alexis asked.

“Unless you kick me out.”

Until he fell asleep, Anne remained next to Alexis. Then she stood up to clean the mess they had left behind. Silently, she did the dishes and picked up the clothes lying around. It was still daylight, and so she stepped out into the garden to water the plants and flowers. Then she went to the living room and walked over to Alexis's desk. There was a sheet of paper in the typewriter. No doubt he was in a hurry to get back to his biography of Gustav Mahler. … Everything about the man fascinated Alexis. Mahler could have followed in the footsteps of Brahms and Schuman, but he instead decided to trace his own musical path. A friend of Gustav Klimt, Sigmund Freud, Adolf Loos, and E. T. A. Hoffman, he had composed symphonies and songs that celebrated nature, love, and death. Next to the desk was a filing cabinet containing Alexis's personal papers. She knew that three of the drawers were filled with things having to do with their relationship. Just like her, Anne's lover had kept everything: letters, souvenirs, photos. Even though he was a few feet away from her, she opened her handbag, took out a notebook and a pen, and began writing a note to Alexis saying that she loved him now with the same intensity as ever.

During the next few days, Alexis was healthy, except that he still had a hard time sleeping.

“The older I get,” he told Stephan Goetz, “the harder it is for me to deal with jet lag.”

Anne had invited them both for dinner at her place. With the new school year fast approaching, Stephan had less time for his literary and artistic wanderings in Paris. On the other hand, he had managed to find a publisher for his translation of Alexis's study of the Secession movement. He was going to sign the contract in a few days, and the book was scheduled to come out the following spring.

Happy about the news, Alexis thanked his friend, and added, “I'm going to miss you at the school.”

Though Alexis had a good rapport with his other colleagues, none were as close to him as Stephan.

On the last Saturday of August, Alexis and Stephan went together to the Musée National Gustave-Moreau. Anne would have liked to tag along, but she had to get ready for the gallery's new season. Her assistant wasn't going to come back until September 1, and so things were peaceful. Though Claire Fournier was very competent, Anne had a hard time dealing with her short temper. She was going over the mail when Aurélie phoned her. A friend was inviting her to her parents' house near Poitiers.

“When are you coming back?” Anne asked.

“September 3.”

With nostalgia, Anne realized that her daughters had become adults without her really seeing the time go by. As for her marriage to François, it was like something that had happened eons ago. On a few occasions, they had seen each other to talk about matters concerning their daughters. The meetings were cordial, but they both wanted to keep them as short as possible.

Anne looked over the gallery's finances. Since its opening, the gallery had tripled its sales revenues. That meant financial security for both her and Benjamin. In order to avoid risks, they still refused to exhibit the work of artists who were too highly rated. After she had finished, Anne glanced at her watch. Alexis and Stephan should have arrived forty minutes before, and it wasn't like them to be late and, even less so, not to call if they were running behind.

As she grew impatient, the ringing of the phone startled her.

“Anne! It's Stephan.”

He sounded out of breath.

“I'll be right there,” he said, before hanging up.

Why did he say ‘I'll be right there' instead of ‘we'?
Anne wondered. And why hadn't he been more explicit? She lit a cigarette, but put it out after one puff. Then she phoned Alexis's place. No answer. She had a bad feeling. Something had happened.

Stephan's expression told her she'd been right in thinking that.

“Anne …” he said, his voice faltering.

“What's going on?”

“It's Alexis …”

“Did he have an accident?”

Stephan nodded. In his silence, he was trying to make Anne say the words he himself couldn't utter.

“He got hit by a car?” Anne said.

Stephan took a deep breath.

“After we left the museum,” he said, “we went to the terrace of a pub for a beer. We were there for fifteen minutes or so, and then he told me he wasn't feeling well. Then he just passed out. Some people came over, and one of them was a doctor. He gave Alexis CPR while we waited for the paramedics to arrive. They got there in no time.”

As Stephan spoke, Anne was trying to convince herself that this was only a bad dream.

“They took us to the nearest hospital,” Stephan continued.

“He was still unconscious then?”

“He never woke up,” Stephan muttered.

Anne had the impression that she had just fallen off a cliff.

“You mean …” she said.

Stephan grabbed Anne by the arm and tried to make her sit down, but she pulled herself free.

“This can't be,” she said. “I don't believe what you're telling me.”

Stunned, pain was beginning to invade her entire body. It was like some beast was gnawing away at her guts, her throat. In a fog of tears, she saw that Stephan was also crying. He managed to tell her that the doctor at the hospital said that Alexis had suffered from a ruptured aneurysm.

Anne was speechless for a moment, and then blurted out, “A ruptured aneurysm … ?”

“The doctor asked me if Alexis had had some kind of trauma lately,” Stephan said.

“Well, he was worried about his son …” Anne said, realizing that the words that had just came out of her made no sense.

“The doctor also asked me about Alexis's family medical history, and if he'd had some kind of allergic reaction recently. I had no idea what to tell him.”

“An allergic reaction … Not long ago he had a bad reaction after he was stung by a wasp. I took him to the emergency …”

For Anne, it was as though some sort of double was speaking in her place. All notion of reality had left her. Not only did she no longer feel like herself, she had the impression of talking about someone else altogether.

Alexis had told Stephan about his relationship with Anne. When the head nurse asked him who should be notified, he replied that he would take care of it.

“I want to see him,” Anne said.

“The … place,” Stephan said, not wanting to utter the word
morgue
, “doesn't open until tomorrow morning.” Putting a hand on Anne's shoulder, he said, “I'm sorry to bring up the topic, but is there someone we should contact?”

“His mother … My God, how am I going to tell her about this?”

“Alexis told me she lives in Lyon?”

Anne nodded.

“I can take a plane down and tell her myself,” Stephan offered.

Anne pressed him for more details about what exactly had happened to Alexis, but Stephan wasn't able to say much. Traumatized by what he had been through, devastated by the loss of a close friend, he was trying not to have a breakdown. Unbearable images kept coming back, particularly those of the paramedics doing all they could to revive Alexis. Filled with a feeling of helplessness, he hated himself for not being able to better support Anne.

“I should go home now,” Anne muttered.

“You're not going to be by yourself, are you?”

“No, I'm not. How about you?”

“A cousin of mine is on vacation in town and he's staying at my place.”

Before leaving the gallery, they agreed to meet the following morning at Hôpital Saint-Louis. Huddled up in the backseat of a cab, Anne looked at the streets that were so familiar to her, streets that she and Alexis walked so many times. For the first time, it truly dawned on her that he was gone. A wave of sadness overwhelmed her. She could hardly breathe. Trying to smother her sobs, Anne rolled her scarf and pressed it against her mouth. In front of her apartment building, she paid the fare.

“You sure you're okay, madame?” the taxi driver asked her.

Unable to say a word, Anne nodded and got out of the car. She stood on the sidewalk for a couple of seconds, then turned her back on her building, walked over to the next street, crossed the intersection, took a few more steps, entered an apartment building, went up some stairs, and knocked on a door.

“Who's that?”

“It's me.”

A few seconds later, Anne collapsed in Simonetta's arms.