Life Is A Foreign Language (24 page)

Michael spread the blanket on the ground and put the cooler in the shade. After removing his T-shirt and jeans, he stood before her in his bathing trunks, his body silhouetted against the blue sky.

This was the first time she saw him with her glasses on. Without shame, feeling no embarrassment, she looked at him, delighted that he had a paunch. True, it was a slight one, but a bit of a potbelly, nonetheless. His legs were tall and muscular, his thighs sagged ever so slightly, and so did his pectoral muscles. His body was both seductive and endearing. The passing of time hadn’t left him untouched either. The effects of age on the human body were merciless but fair; it happened to everybody.

He held out his hand to her. “Let’s go swimming.”

“Race you,” she shouted and ran into the water. With a groan of sheer visceral pleasure she dived in, head first. The water was warm, a caress on her skin. Michael caught up with her, and together they stretched out in a brisk crawl.

Used to the ocean since she was a toddler, Nina was a strong swimmer. But Michael kept pace with her, his lean long body cleaving the water. Turning, they floated on their backs, holding hands, eyes lost in the blue sky dappled with cotton candy clouds. When they had enough, they turned and swam toward land. In shallow water they played, splashed and dunked each other, laughing and shouting.

“I feel like a grown kid.”

He cascaded water on her. “That’s because you are a grown kid.”

They half-walked, half-ran through the sand, falling out of breath onto the blanket.

Side by side, they lay on their backs in the sun. The heat and sound of the waves lapping against the shore filled Nina with contentment. The ocean always had a tranquilizing effect on her. During the years she lived in Annecy, far from her roots in Biarritz, she missed the ocean, sometimes resenting the mountains that arrested her view, often thinking they stole away the horizon.

Michael turned to her, his face serious. He put the palm of his hand against her cheek. “I want to ask you something.”

“Yes, ask me.”

“Yesterday I told you about the Rose Festival and my hopes of winning the prize ‘Rose of Roses’.”

She nodded, waiting for him to say more, eyes lost in his.

“By tradition, the winning rose has a Godmother. Like a Godmother, she pronounces the name, the one I’ve chosen.”

Nina smiled. “Sounds like the launching of a ship.”

“Something like it, yes. Would you be Godmother to my rose? If it wins the highest prize, would you announce its name?”

For a while she lay quiet, his hand warm against her face. “Michael, this is such a privilege and honor. I can’t believe you’re asking me. Are you sure? Isn’t there anybody else you’d rather invite to do the honors?”

“I’ve thought about this for a while. That night on your lanai, when we danced, I knew I wanted you to be the Godmother. You don’t have to answer right now if you’d rather think about it.” He turned on his back, pulling her close. “Take your time.”

“There’s nothing to think about, darling. I am overwhelmed that you should ask me, and proud to accept.”

He caught her hand as she started rummaging in her bag for a tissue. “Nina, please don’t cry.”

His voice was so pleading she smiled. “I won’t, I promise. I’ve never been Godmother to a rose before, I feel all sorts of emotions. Come to think of it, I’ve never been a Godmother at all.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “You have to tell me exactly what I have to do. I don’t want to embarrass you by bungling it.”

“There’s a bit of a mystery involved. The name of the ‘Rose of Roses’ is a secret, until you pronounce it.”

“Why the secrecy?”

He shrugged. “To make it more interesting, I guess. It’s always been done this way. Only the President of the Festival and the rose grower—I hope me in this case—will know the name ahead of time. You’ll get a sealed envelope, inside is a printed card and you’ll read the text aloud. Then you pour water on the plant, and Bingo! It’s named.” Softly, tenderly, he kissed her lips and cradled her head on his shoulder while his other hand caressed her bare back, giving her goose bumps and pleasure shivers.

“Wonderful. It’s an honor. Thanks for asking me.”

“I’m glad I did. I wasn’t sure you’d accept, though. You’ve made this the happiest day for me. We were made for each other. I’m sure of it. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, darling, I’m sure.” She turned to take the sun on her back, moving closer, her arm against his.

When the heat became too much even for Nina, she stood. “I’m going for a swim. Care to join me?”

Standing, he stretched to his full length. “You bet, for other reasons than the heat.” His near naked body was taut against the sea and the sky, and she thought how beautiful he was, his body a study in harmony.

She glanced at him, chuckling. “What other reasons?”

He winked. “I’m thirsty. How about you?”

“Yes, me too.”

He walked to the cooler and lifted out a gallon of water. “Here, drink all you want.”

She drank, and although the water was a bit tepid by now it tasted wonderful in her parched mouth.

While Michael drank, she ran across the strip of sand into the ocean and cried out in pleasure as she dived into the next breaker, stretching out in a rhythmic crawl.
I could swim to the end of the earth.
Feeling strong and whole. Yes.

Turning, she headed for the shore, and waded to him as he stood in waist deep water. She threw herself into his arms, catching him off-guard. They lost their footing, went under, and surfaced sputtering and laughing. She couldn’t stop smiling; her cheek muscles pulled and kept stretching her mouth ever wider. “I love you. Tell me you’ll always love me.”

“Yes, Nina, I’ll always love you. My whole life through.”

She believed him.

Chapter 27
 

The sun, low in the sky, bathed the world in hot colors of carmine and orange as they reluctantly prepared to leave the beach.

“I’ll miss this place. It’s so beautiful and peaceful. Here the world is my oyster, if you don’t mind a corny expression.”

Michael patted her behind as she bent to pick up her towel. “Today, corny expressions are allowed.”

She swatted at his hand and jogged in the deep sand to the car.

On their way to her house, Michael glanced at her from time to time.

“What’s the matter, Michael? Something on your mind?”

At first he didn’t answer, punching buttons on the radio while he steered with one hand.

“Come on, I can tell there’s something. You’re making me nervous.”

He pushed hair off his forehead and sighed. “You won’t like this, and I hate having to tell you, but it was decided a quite some time ago.”

Nina dreaded what she was going to hear, not sure how to handle it. “Tell me.”

“It’s my grandson Kevin’s birthday today. Peter and Ally arranged for the whole family to have dinner together tonight. I’m sorry, sweetie, I must go.”

Nina’s heart skipped a beat, then started racing. Disappointment invaded her, numbing and heavy, but she wasn’t going to get into an argument because he took time to be with his family, apparently not giving her a thought. “Okay.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Is that all you’ve got to say? Just okay?”

Thoughts flitted through her head, anxiety and fear made breathing painful.

He tried to take her hand, but she snatched it away, keeping it out of his reach. She sat straight, so tense the muscles in her neck started to cramp. “You drop this like a bomb. Why didn’t you tell me earlier, so I could make plans of my own for the evening?”

With a sharp movement he turned his head in her direction before concentrating on the road again. “My mistake, Nina; I should have told you. I’m afraid I didn’t think.”

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the neckrest. “Didn’t think? Because I’m not important.” She’d taken it for granted they would spend the evening together. Her mouth was filled with the acidy taste of disappointment, but she caught herself before she said things she would regret.

“I’m sorry if you’re disappointed. Kevin’s dinner was planned a long time ago. Don’t let it upset you.”

She shrugged. Anger got in the way of reason. It hurt that he was leaving her on her own after the intimate hours they’d shared. The familiar loneliness enveloped her like a second skin, terrifying. She wanted to get home before she started crying.

Michael talked in a soft warm voice. “Be reasonable, Nina. I can’t just ignore a family dinner.”

She swallowed hard. “Of course not.” She didn’t want him to neglect his family, but was she wrong in expecting that he should give her a thought, knowing that she was still struggling to find her landmarks, homesick for her own family? “Please take me home, Michael.”

Fighting tears, determined not to let him see her cry, Nina had the passenger door open as he stopped in her driveway. Grabbing her beach bag off the floor, she dashed out of the car, slammed the door and rushed into the safety of her home before Michael could move. He called something after her, but she didn’t stop to listen.

Her face was wet with tears, her hands trembled, and deep sobs wracked her body. Taking refuge in her bedroom she fell by the bed, hitting the floor so hard her knees hurt. She’d been flying high, filled with trust, euphoric from love and hope and happiness. With one sentence, Michael had shattered everything. She burrowed her face in the comforter, crying with soul racking sobs. The innumerable times André had left her alone, had plans that didn’t include her, flashed through her mind.

Before long, the doorbell rang. Raising her head, she listened, holding her breath. If the caller was Michael, she didn’t want to see him or show herself the way she was, disheveled and broken. If it was somebody else, she didn’t care; there was nobody she wanted to talk to.

Then she heard the familiar voice calling. “Nina, open up. It’s me, Sophie. I know you’re home.”

Nina assumed Sophie had seen her rush out of Michael’s car. If she knew Nina was home, she wouldn’t relent. Slowly she stood, wobbly from kneeling. She dragged herself into the living room. From the window she saw Sophie on the porch, hand raised to ring the doorbell again.

Sniffling, Nina dried her eyes and running nose on the hem of her T-shirt.
I can never find a tissue when I need it.
She called, “Go away, Sophie. Leave me alone.”

“No, I won’t. Michael asked me to drop in because you’re upset. Please open the door.”

“I’m all right. I’ll talk to you later.” And she turned on her heels and returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind her, as if she could shut out an intrusive world—a world that held nothing for her.

Emotions and the chilly air-conditioning made Nina’s teeth clatter. In the bathroom she bathed her sunburned, tear-streaked face with cold water and showered to wash away the sand and salt from the beach. When her skin was dry, she slathered it with aftersun crème and slipped on an ankle-length, long-sleeved housecoat.

In the office she rummaged among her papers. While she looked for Walter Driscoll’s number, the phone on her desk rang, but she didn’t answer, didn’t even bother to listen to the message when the machine picked up.

Had she stopped to think, she probably wouldn’t have called Walter, but fear and despair motivated her to escape the impasse she felt with Michael, his lack of consideration for her.
It’s like an echo from my life with André.

After she dialed Walter’s office number, a glance at her watch brought the realization it was after office hours. She broke the connection and dialed his cell phone. He answered on the second ring.

Nina made an effort to sound calm. They exchanged polite greetings.

“This is about your e-mail, I suppose,” Walter said. “I was going to get back to you tonight from home.”

Walter had been her supervisor for many years, but they were not close. Their relationship was professional and impersonal. She wanted an assignment, and he didn’t expect an explanation. She was free and competent, which was all he cared about.

“If you’re available, we’ve been asked to give three lectures at the University in New Jersey starting on Wednesday. Only one subject and right in your ball park—the genetic predisposition of alcoholism. How do you like that?”

“Good. Will there be the usual mix of professors and medical students?”

“I guess. Some three hundred people at each lecture.”

“How much time per talk?”

“Forty-five minutes for your talk, fifteen for Q and A.”

She made a quick calculation; today was Monday. She should be able to get a flight to New York tomorrow morning. She could review her notes in the afternoon in the hotel. “I’ll check flights, call you back.”

There was a connection that would get her into JFK shortly after noon tomorrow. She made the reservation and called Walter, who promised to pick her up at the airport and book a hotel room.

Not for a minute did she reflect on what consequences this might have on her and Michael’s relationship. Like a wounded animal, she wanted to put as much distance between them as she could. For a few days she needed to be on her own, think things through.

Packing a carryall with a two-piece business suit, high heeled pumps, a few silk blouses, underwear and her vitamins, she kept herself busy. Anything not to think. She was taking a break for a few days. Late Friday night she’d be back. The assignment was for one lecture a day, which would leave her plenty of time to take stock of the situation—Michael’s role in her life, what she could and couldn’t accept. Tonight she must find the courage to let him know she was leaving. She wished she had his e-mail address, and berated herself for being a coward for wanting to avoid direct contact with him.

Michael’s cell phone was answered by voicemail. She left a message: “I’m leaving for New York tomorrow to give a few lectures. Don’t know my hotel yet, but you have the number to my cell phone. Bye.” At the house the answering machine kicked in, and she left the same message. When she put the phone down, her hands were trembling, her whole body shook. There was something final about this.