Hidden In Paris Part 27

"All right now. You can play," he said and waved in the direction of the jungle gym.

Lia planted herself in front of him.

"I need to pee."

The bathroom was within eye distance. He pointed to it.

"Mom takes me into public bathrooms," Lia told him, making a face.

Indeed, the toilets of public parks had to be squalid, and what about the strange people that might be lurking around. But how could he take one child to the toilet and leave the other four unsupervised. The boys were busy amusing themselves with fighting other children on the playground. They called it play, but it was more like war. Youngsters could be remarkably aggressive, Lucas noticed, but he also noticed with contentment, and maybe a hint of pride, how his children formed a tight little clan against the others.

Lucas turned to a mother on a nearby bench who had heaven knew how many children of her own. "Would you mind keeping an eye on those boys there?" He pointed to Lia. "This little lady needs to use the restroom."

He stood with great discomfort at the door of the girl's bathroom. "The lock is broken," he apologized to the mother and daughter waiting in line behind him.

Lia's voice came out of the stall. "There is no paaa-per! Can you hand me a Kleenex?"

"Dear," Lucas whispered, "I do not carry such things."

The woman behind him laughed and produced Kleenexes from her purse as though she were some kind of genius. Lucas thanked her as graciously as he could, considering he felt like clubbing her over the head. But already, on the playground, the woman allegedly supervising his children was yelling at Paul for hitting one of her brats with a plastic shovel.

It was getting late. Annie had not called him and he knew better than to call her. How he was ready to bring the children back to their house. To h.e.l.l with keeping them! But the thought of taking the metro again was more than he could bear. Of course his own apartment was five minutes away, but the thought of five children with shoes filled with sand and hands sticky with ice cream residue all over his Persian rugs made him shudder.

The children, sensing his weakness, began making demands.

"We're hungry!"

"You just had ice cream."

Laurent shrugged. "Ice cream doesn't fill you up."

"It's just sugar. Empty calories," Lia added.

"Empty?" Lucas echoed.

"I have an idea. You go get the food," Maxence suggested. "We'll stay here and play."

"I regret, but this will not be possible."

Laurent pointed an ice cream smeared finger toward a yellow arch Lucas had never noticed in the past. "McDonald's is right there," he said.

"Me want chicken nuggets," Simon blurted out, followed by frantic orders from every kid: "I want a Whooper."

"They don't do Whoppers dumba.s.s."

"Can I have a toy with my happy meal?"

Lucas stopped them by raising both palms. "Let me make something clear," he said, "I refuse to set a foot in that horrible place."

"You never had MacDo?" Maxence was flabbergasted.

"Never have, never will. Not only is it rubbish, but it is the symbol of American imperialism."

"What?"

"France is the world's capital of gastronomy, so why ingest the worst that the world has to offer?"

"How do you know you don't like it if you've never had it?

"You're like Sam I Am."

The children explained that it was an American joke about eating green eggs.

"But it's sooo good."

"But we're really, really hungry."

Lucas discovered he was walking on the edge of the razorblade too late. "No McDonald's! Never!" He yelled.

The playground turned silent. Birds stopped chirping, dogs quit barking, and mothers and children froze. Everyone was staring at him as though he were a child abuser. Lucas hurried the children out of the playground. He felt quite famished himself. With the circus at the hospital, he'd had neither the time nor the enthusiasm for breakfast or lunch. He, too, needed to go to the bathroom but he could no longer ask those hostile mothers for favors. He resigned himself to bringing everyone to his apartment. He would make some pasta; maybe he had enough for a salad. He hoisted Simon on his shoulders, and now was also carrying Lia and Paul's backpacks. He was fuming. The children could see he meant business and cooperated. But they all came to a stop in front of McDonald's, jumping up and down, begging and claiming starvation. The fact was, he was starving. Really starving. He had not eaten a thing in nearly twenty-four hours.

The double cheeseburger with bacon turned out to be surprisingly tasty.

Chapter 27.

Giving a bathroom break as an excuse to leave the kitchen, Annie left Mark and Lola alone and rushed to her bedroom to call Lucas. She wasn't going to miss much. Mark seemed on his best behavior in her presence, asking only carefully crafted questions about the children, which Lola answered happily. Whatever was really on Mark's mind was well concealed and he sounded nothing like the a-hole he had been on the phone. In her bedroom, Annie sat on her bed and dialed Lucas' number. It was well after six p.m.

"What's the news on Althea and Jared?" she asked right away.

Lucas answered with an injured voice. "I called about every hour, both are stable and safely hospital bound at least for the weekend. And Althea is being transferred to that service that takes care of her ... issue."

"That's a relief."

"My apartment is ransacked, I have a terrible headache and I still haven't had a chance to take a shower," he said.

Annie smiled to herself. "Welcome to the last ten years of my life," she said.

"I'm glad you called," he said, "there's been this thing on my mind, I wanted to ask you if --"

"Mark is so smooth. You'd think he's just here on a little visit. If I did not know better, which I do because I heard with my own ears what he is capable of, I'd think Lola was a lying sac of dung. But so far he's been entirely in control and he's not said the least aggressive thing. I'd bet he's waiting for the moment he can be alone with her to rip her a new one."

"Do you believe him to be dangerous?"

"I can't imagine he would be, unless I'm a poor judge of character. Still, you should see how much power he has over Lola."

"Who doesn't have power over her?" Lucas sighed.

"I'm enjoying the challenge."

"I'm delighted you're having such a wonderful time," he said with defeat in his voice.

"Oh come on, how bad can it be? They're wonderful children."

"Yes, wonderful. And absolutely filthy. And all over my nineteenth-century Kurdish rug. They're watching television now."

Annie took a breath, mustering courage for what she was about to ask of him. "I really think we should keep the children away from the house. Lola and Mark need to be alone to sort things through. The kids' presence would jeopardize any chance of an adult conversation." On the line there was silence, then a heartbreaking moan. Annie braced herself. Of course Lucas already knew what she was about to say. "We need to find a solution for the night," she added.

"I can't possibly... "

"You have to."

"But there is no room, no beds. I can't very well make them sleep on the floor can I? And doesn't this man have the right to see his children?"

"He's got no rights in my book."

"Meanwhile, I'm being an accessory to a crime."

She sighed, "Oh now the big words."

"Annie," Lucas hesitated, "I need to ask you something."

"Besides he'll see them. Only not tonight. Listen, I have to get back to Lola and Mark."

"There is the possibility of my cabin in Honfleur. We could get there in about two hours by car. There are enough beds. But my car is too small. We would need your van."

"Honfleur! The beach!" she yelped. "Oh Lucas, I could hug you right now!"

"About that, I wanted to ask you if..."

"I'll load up the minivan and pick you and the kids up and off to Honfleur!"

"You! Pick us up?" he asked.

"So what?"

"You don't drive anymore, remember?"

"I'll drive the darn thing to your place, and you can do the drive to Honfleur."

"Lola's not coming?"

"That's the whole point. She needs to stay and humor that Neanderthal." She teased, "Are you worried to find yourself alone with me?"

"Alone? With five children?" Lucas said. "Let me ask you something."

"I better pack bathing suits!"

"Annie, we're not going anywhere until you shut up for a second and listen to me!"

She wanted to hang up while she was still ahead. "I'm all ears, she said after a long pause."

"Did you...?" Lucas cleared his throat, "well, was last night meaningful to you?"

"Meaningful? Of course, it was meaningful," she mumbled.

"Annie, help me out here."

"Don't we have the weekend to talk about this?"

"Would it be more towards the positive-meaningful, or the negative-meaningful?" Lucas asked.

Her mind went blank. She was not prepared to answer that question, any question.

"Annie?"

Her nose felt p.r.i.c.kly. "You're pretty cute, you know."

"I'll take that as a positive, then?"

She looked around the room for a Kleenex. She'd be d.a.m.ned if he heard her cry. "I would. Yes, definitely."

"Are you really sure about driving the van?"

"Listen, I can drive the van, okay?"

"All right, all right. We're waiting. Bring vast quant.i.ties of aspirin."

The drip into her arm was gone and replaced by a small bandage. She did not feel weak anymore, but she was exhausted despite sleeping so deeply for hours that she did not even feel herself transported by ambulance from the hospital to where she was now. Althea dressed herself, stepped into the hallway, and asked for the room where she was supposed to meet Madame Defloret. She walked through several hallways, refusing to make eye contact. It was after nine p.m. and the light of the day was only now showing signs of waning. Outside, the sky had a purplish tint. Every window in this place had a metal screen over it, like a prison. She entered a room that resembled a cla.s.sroom. In the center of the room, ten chairs had been arranged in a circle. Madame Defloret sat in one of the chairs. A long strand of pearls rested on her motherly bosom. "Have a seat, Althea," she smiled. "The rest of our little group is about to arrive for our evening meeting."

Althea wrapped her arms around her body. She instinctively searched for the way out as one by one girls and young women entered the room, all thin. Much too thin. She observed the women as they entered the bare room and sat reluctantly without acknowledging each other. Althea searched the girls' eyes and faces for a thread of connection. But the eyes weren't interesting in seeing and the faces were closed. What did she have in common with this punk-looking girl who wore torn black pantyhose, a bobby pin in her ear and who sat staring down at her feet, clearly resolved not to speak or listen. What did she have in common with this small girl dressed in pink jeans and pink T-s.h.i.+rt who looked straight in front of her with fire in her eyes, ready to kill? These girls were trapped inside themselves she could tell. She wanted to have nothing in common with them, yet she knew why she had been brought here, and that she was here for the same reason they were. They shared a single purpose, a single common obsession: food, or how to avoid it. There was no hiding it to herself anymore.

As more patients came in and filled the chairs, she realized with sadness that by entering this place, by leaving Lola, Annie, the children and their earthly preoccupations, she had left humanity behind in a way. This sisterhood was devoid of empathy or closeness. Here, it would be each woman for herself. Lola and Annie had offered her kins.h.i.+p at a time when she couldn't accept it. She had also experienced being cared for and a sense of connection when she was with Jared. She would find none of it here. She was glad to know connection with other humans existed, and how good it felt. It helped to hang on to that thought as she found herself in a room full of women dead set on avoiding it. In a way, she did not belong in Annie and Lola's life, and she did not belong with these girls either. But where did she belong? She had hoped to belong with Jared but it was all so clear now that all along he had to be on drugs to tolerate her. That thought, strangely, made her more furious than sad.

She thought of excuses to get up and leave. She understood the bars on the window all of a sudden. This was a psychiatric hospital. Surely they could not keep her here against her will. But if she left and went outside, she would be reduced to confront whatever was haunting her without help, support or guidance, just as she always had. There was no outside. Outside was a metaphor for life, and to her, inaccessible. This was a psychiatric hospital, and she, Althea, was mentally ill. She knew she could not do it alone, and for the first time in her life, she did not want to do it alone. Sitting in her chair, surrounded by women who, like her, suffered unimaginable pain, Althea made the most important decision of her life. She decided to trust she could get better. For Jared. For herself.

Madame Defloret started to speak, and Althea listened.

Lola knew that the so-called couple mediation Annie had in mind had little to do with anything other than gaining time. Neither she nor Annie knew what they were doing, and if Mark realized this, he showed no sign. Lola controlled the shaking in her voice and asked him mundane questions about his flight, and when he had arrived and where he was staying and he responded in a perfectly civil manner. They could have been two strangers meeting for the first time. Annie pretended to take notes, but clearly had no clue how to mediate a thing. As for Mark, he might have agreed to Annie being there but that did not mean he had any intention of revealing the least bit about himself or his intentions in her presence. Mark wasn't the type to air his dirty laundry in public anyway. Anger and yelling were the only way he showed emotion, so for the time being he was careful to show none. An outburst, threats and insults would arrive all too soon but this gift of time, the knowledge that the children were away and Annie was present helped Lola gather herself.

When Annie left the two of them alone in the kitchen, they faced each other in silence. She could tell that he wanted to say something, that he was mulling it over, something he had trouble getting out. She waited. When he finally spoke, it was to say only one thing: "I missed you so much Lola." She was too astonished to respond.