When he saw the nicely set table, he was taken aback; he was probably sick of sleeping. I could read fear in his black eyes hidden under his slanted eyelids. The way experience can make an inexperienced man mature is absolutely spectacular!
I shook my hands frantically, like a mute, so he would understand once and for all that things were over, definitely over: The script was different now. Sleeping finished, now eating.
“It’s very good food, you’ll see! Wonderful French food!”
I went to the fridge to take out the hors-d’oeuvre plates: two slices of duck foie gras from the Gers, along with toast and a slab of fig jam on the side. I removed from his plate one of the slices of toast, spread the smooth paste on it, added a little bit of jam, and took a bite to show him there was nothing to be afraid of. When I brought the slice of bread to his lips, he gulped it down. On and on like that through the whole meal. But I allowed myself pauses so I could get some nourishment too; generosity has its limits after all.
He was going like Mmm, very good, great. And honestly, the veal was a complete success; I had slightly spiced it so my darling would feel more at home and it turned out to be a brilliant idea. I pushed forkfuls of meat and vegetables into his mouth. We had found a satisfying rhythm. He was as handsome as when we had first met, his wild strawberry smell lingering on despite the aromas of the meal and the almond-milk scent of the shower gel. My cute little soldier had a strong personality he hadn’t clearly revealed yet. But Luc was wrong: I could be patient.
My man had absolutely gorgeous hands and arms. I hadn’t seen such perfection up close since Eric, the young swimming champion in the 200-meter freestyle I had abused in the locker room. I had gotten into all kinds of trouble because of that, including being fired from the Swimming Federation and one year of scandalous chemical straightjacket. They talk about human rights for men, but what about the rights of women? No one gives a shit about them.
He accepted coffee without me dipping my lips into it first. Trust had been restored. It just goes to show, it doesn’t take much. Then we settled on the couch with small glasses of brandy. He let me do the job. At times, I even seemed to catch a flash of wonder in his weary eyes. A great cook makes a great lover: I knew the proverb and I was able to verify how surprisingly true it was.
At 3 a.m., having had my fill, I took him back to his room, certain he would sleep: I had fixed his second glass of brandy with three pills.
As I was going to bed, I thought I recognized the same feeling of ecstasy I’d had with Luc at the beginning of our relationship. Spring had come. I had no doubt about us being able to form a happy couple. Such a thing does exist, whatever they may say; pushing your luck a bit is all it takes.
The next day, I washed and checked my e-mail. No news from Milan. I felt reassured; it’s always when everything is going smoothly that the worst happens. I know that well.
I fixed breakfast. When I went into the bedroom, he was asleep. I didn’t want to bother him; I just stayed there and watched my little angel without a peep, without pulling the blanket off the bed, an inch away from being the submissive woman, lost in admiration before her man and scared to death at the idea of disturbing his sleep. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer and my hand shot out. Maybe I wasn’t completely stabilized yet.
When he woke up, I was holding his penis firmly in my right hand, with the tip of it in front of my mouth like a mike, and I was singing, Stranger in the night, I’m so excited...
He gave me a funny look. Okay, I don’t sing very well, it’s true. I put an end to my recital and gave him his breakfast.
In the bathroom, I filled the tub with water warmed up just right and added a Chanel № 5 bath gel. A pure delight! I sat him up on the edge of the bathtub, what with his feet tied up and all... Then splash! I was wondering if I would join him right away when the doorbell rang. Bummer!
After the first moment of panic, I decided I wouldn’t open the door.
And then: “Sonia, it’s Luc, open up, I know you’re there!”
Locking and bolting the door had been a good idea. I had to, our home was his home after all.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he came in.
And who says I’m not polite? Not even Hello, thank you, nothing. The poor guy wasn’t doing so great, actually. He sat down on the couch; there was this scent of wild strawberries and I was wondering when he would notice, but he didn’t care; besides, I had already forgotten: Luc has no sense of smell!
“It’s all over with Georges!”
What? Over with the macho physical therapist who gave him such beautiful bruises? I had never believed in their story, actually. A massage that turns into marriage, that can’t work. So what that I knew it for both of us — it didn’t help!
“Any way we look at it, Luc, we can’t make it work. We’re too different,” I said in a soft woman-victim tone of voice that went with my white blouse...
“I’m coming back, Sonia, I’m moving back tomorrow...”
“Oh! That won’t be possible!”
“We have no other choice, Sonia. This is my home.”
“It’s too late!”
“And why’s that?”
“There’s someone else in my life!”
He looked at me like Keep talking, don’t even think I’m gonna believe you. What chutzpah these guys have! They always think that girls are incapable of managing without them. That girls are only good for whining and for begging them to come back home. Boy, did he have the wrong scenario!
“Stop that nonsense, Sonia. You took your pills, right? I think you’re weird.”
That was pretty incredible! The guy I had was more handsome, younger, fresher. He had traveled thousands of miles to jump into my arms. He was now relaxing in my bathtub, fragrant with Chanel № 5, and the guy who’d just been dumped was putting on macho airs and acting as if he had recently killed the wooly mammoth to save his tribe! The jerk had spoiled my babe’s bath! There are limits, after all, limits I cross with gusto, and when I scream, it gets pretty loud.
“Get the hell out of here, you schmuck! I have someone else in my life now, so fuck you, asshole!”
I was starting to turn red. He remembered what that meant so he left, slamming the door behind him.
I remained in the middle of the living room for a good while, just to calm down; even when you are stabilized, sometimes certain people are good at making you fly off the handle. Leaving me for a physical therapist? You had to be really dumb.
Being dumped for a man and not for a woman wasn’t actually as tough, but... I failed to see the connection! What with one thing and another, I was getting all mixed up. Too many things were happening to me in too little time. I had reached the point where I needed a pill. That was smart! Luckily, there was no risk of an overdose as I had only one pill left in my last bottle. The Chinese man had eaten all of them.
As soon as I opened the bathroom door, I was struck by the absence of the wild strawberry scent. Chanel № 5 had punch, true, but still, I was scared. And rightly so: The foam was all alone in the tub, with no Chinese head sticking out. I saw red. Gone? No, he was all slumped in there, white in the red water. My poor baby! I grabbed his head; the stupid idiot was looking up at the top of his head. I pulled him up some more: The handle of the ceramic knife was sticking out of his stomach which was pouring red into the Chanel № 5... Some people sure know how to annoy you! Why go through so much trouble just to die when it’s the one thing nobody can escape from? Because really, he did go through a lot of trouble to find that fucking knife and put it through his stomach without swallowing it first. I thought this hara-kiri stuff was Japanese but as it turned out, even that was Chinese!