Bad Marie (4 page)

“She’ll forgive you?”

“That’s what she said.”

A woman in the row behind them tapped Benoît on the
shoulder with a sock-covered foot. It was a striped sock, dark blue and turquoise.

“C’est toi, non?
” she said, her voice a playful whisper. “Benoît Doniel?
Oui
. Benoît Doniel. Benoît Doniel.”

Marie watched as Benoît did not respond to this voice. He looked at Marie.

“Je sais que c’est toi. Je le sais. Je le sais.
”

Marie watched as the unidentified foot kicked him again, this time with more force.

“She knows you,” Marie said.

“Merde,
” Benoît said.

The woman with the striped socks got out of her seat and came over. She crouched in the aisle next to Benoît Doniel and put her hands on his face. She kissed both cheeks, and then she kissed him long and hard on his mouth.

“Who is that?” Caitlin asked.

Marie shook her head.

“She has long hair,” Caitlin said.

The woman’s blond hair went down to her waist. Marie suppressed the temptation to pull it. When the woman was done kissing Benoît, she put her head in his lap and started to cry.

“Benoît?” Marie said.

Benoît rubbed the top of the crying woman’s head. He looked at Marie.

“This is Lili Gaudet,” he said. “I have not seen her in a very long time.”

Marie nodded.

The woman lifted her head, crouching still in the aisle, wiping the tears away from her eyes. They were unusual eyes; the lids came down as if she might be part Asian. Only then did she notice Marie.

“You have not heard of me?” she said.

Marie shook her head.

“Should I have heard of you?”

“I am an actress,” she said.

“I’ve been in prison,” Marie said.

Lili Gaudet blinked.

She said something to Benoît in French.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“You live in New York,” she said. “I was just in New York. My film was at the Tribeca Film Festival. They ate hot dogs, the audience, watching my movie.”

“How awful for you.”

“You must have known I was in New York.” She looked back at Benoît. “Read about me in the newspaper?”

Benoît blinked.

“I didn’t know, Lili.”

Marie did not like the way Benoît spoke her name. The intimacy with which he said it.

“Is this your wife?” Lili Gaudet asked Benoît. “I heard that you were married. And who is this? Is this your little girl?”

“I am a big girl,” Caitlin said.

“Excusez-moi
. Is this your big girl?”

“Oui
. Caitlin.
Elle a presque trois ans
.”

“Ta petite fille
.” The French actress beamed at Caitlin, more tears welling in her eyes. “I have looked for him,” she said to Marie. “
Je l’ai cherché et cherché.
All these years. I have looked for him.”

And then, she started to weep. She fell into the arms of the airline attendant who had been hovering right behind.

Benoît unbuckled his seat belt.

“What are you doing?” Marie said. “Don’t.”

But Benoît stood up from his seat. He tapped the airline attendant, who transferred the burden of the French actress into his arms.

“The lady is crying,” Caitlin said, excited, pointing.

Even worse, there were tears in Benoît’s eyes.

“I looked for him,” the French actress said to Marie, speaking over Benoît’s shoulder. “And I looked. For years, I looked. I called his
grand-mère
, but she would not tell me. He did not want to be found.
Mon coeur etait battu. Comprends?
”

But then she smiled.

The French actress had a spectacular smile. With her arms wrapped around Benoît, she projected a deranged happiness. She appeared almost retarded in her delight. Marie was appalled.

“I love this man,” Lili told Marie. “I love Benoît Doniel.
Je suis très heureuse
to see him again.
Comprends?
”

She kissed both of Benoît’s cheeks again. His hair hung in his eyes.

“I want Elmo,” Caitlin said, grabbing Marie’s arm.

“I don’t know where he is, Caty Cat.”

“I want Elmo.”

Marie was glad to have a reason to interrupt the French actress’s moment of rapture. “Do you know where it is, Benoît? Caitlin’s Elmo. Did you pack it?”

“It’s in one of the suitcases.”

“I want Elmo,” Caitlin said.

“It’s checked, Caitlin,” Marie said.

She took a stuffed rabbit from the bag.

“
Voilà
,” Marie said.

Caitlin shook her head.

“No.” Marie stroked the soft fur of the rabbit’s floppy ears. She liked the rabbit.

“Who is talking to Daddy?” Caitlin said.

Marie turned to look. She did not know what word to use: bitch, cunt, French actress. Instead she shrugged her shoulders.

“I want a cheeseburger,” Caitlin said, her voice rising. “I want Mommy. Where is Mommy?”

“Mommy is at work, Silly Bean,” Marie said.

At home, Caitlin never asked for her mother. Ellen could work a fourteen-hour day and no one would miss her. Caitlin was always happy to be with Marie, happy to spend their days together. Sometimes, Caitlin was already asleep when Ellen came home from work.

“Do you want me to read to you?”

Marie, the efficient and capable babysitter, pulled out the book about a lost teddy bear from her bag beneath the seat and began to read to Caitlin, while Benoît remained in the aisle with his deranged French actress. Marie read to Caitlin as Benoît sat next to Lili Gaudet in the row behind them. While Caitlin turned the page, Marie craned her neck to get a glimpse of the French actress, talking to Benoît in rapid French, holding his hand.

He had left his wife, he had left his home. For her. For Marie. She had saved him from drudgery and dominion. But there he was, sitting with another woman, another woman who kissed him on the mouth, burst into tears, and talked of his grandmother. It was all wrong. The French actress was pretty enough; her hair was blond and long, she wore a black T-shirt that clung to her breasts, but her head was enormous compared to the rest of her body. Her dark eyes were almost ferretlike, darting. She was skinny, too skinny. She leaned her head against Benoît’s shoulder.

Benoît looked at Marie through the crack in the seats, attempting to nod reassuringly, at the same moment the airline attendant brought over two glasses of champagne. Marie was not reassured. It was too soon for Marie to be angry with Benoît. Too early to begin with regrets and recriminations.

Marie did not believe in regret. It was not, for instance, her fault that Juan José had chosen to kill himself. She could not have known that would happen when he appeared at her doorstep. Marie looked away from Benoît, from his French actress. She could hear their glasses clink together, the French actress laughing, a sound that was just as repellent as the French actress’s crying outburst. Marie picked up Caitlin’s hand and pretended to bite it.

“I am eating your hand,” Marie said. “I am eating it up. Yummy, yummy hands.”

Caitlin had such perfect little hands, tiny chubby fingers.

“Don’t,” Caitlin said, laughing. “Don’t. Stop. Don’t.”

“Well,” Marie said. “What do we do?”

“Let’s watch the TV,” Caitlin said.

Marie nodded, reassured. Caitlin still knew how to behave. Marie put the headset on Caitlin’s little head; she found French cartoons playing on the built-in screen on the seat in front of them. A black cat said: “Ooh la la.”

“Ooh la la la la,” Caitlin said. “La la la.”

“Ooh ooh ooh,” Marie said.

“La la la.”

It was not necessary to speak French to enjoy the French cartoon about the black cat. Caitlin did not want her mommy; she had only needed to establish her mother’s location. Elmo was in the suitcase. Mommy was at the office. Caitlin didn’t even need Benoît. Only Marie. Marie found a bag of cheddar cheese goldfish crackers she’d packed in the carry-on bag, and they ate them happily, watching the television. Marie tried not to think longingly of the flat-screen TV in Ellen’s living room, the comfortable leather couch where she had watched so many bad TV movies. The routine she and Caitlin had painstakingly perfected, the life Marie had left behind.

Marie had been happy in Ellen’s home.

The French actress looked fragile. She looked like she relied on men, needed a man to help her breathe. Any second now, she’d lower her head, currently on Benoît’s shoulder, down to his lap.

“Don’t,” she said to Caitlin, “be like that. Ever.”

After they landed, Benoît and the French actress talked all the way through the airport and then through customs, where Marie and Caitlin had to stand in a separate line for foreigners. The French actress and Benoît kept on talking at the baggage claim while Marie scrambled for all of the ridiculous bags. They came in, one by one: the four suitcases, then the stroller, and, finally, Marie’s backpack.

“That’s everything,” Marie told Benoît.

Marie loaded the bags onto a cart while Benoît talked to the French actress.

“Push this,” she told Benoît, and he did.

Marie held Caitlin’s hand. She nodded to the French actress, but that was all. The flight was over and it was time to say good-bye. But when the moment arrived, when Benoît and Marie and Caitlin were supposed to get into a French taxicab and start their life together in Paris, France, Marie found themselves still attached to Lili Gaudet, who ushered them out of the airport and toward a black car that was waiting.

“You will stay with me,” she explained to Marie. “I have plenty of room. You’ll be very comfortable. I have many rooms.” She looked at Caitlin. “I have toys for you. Beautiful dolls.”

Marie looked at Benoît. She had never thought to ask him where they would go once they were in Paris. She had thought they would talk about this, their plans, on the airplane, but instead he had gone off with the French actress. Marie assumed he had some sort of plan. It was his country.

“This is good,” Benoît assured Marie. “It’s lucky that we found Lili. Ellen will not be able to find us in her apartment.”

“Ta femme?
” Lili asked. “Ellen?”

“Mommy?” Caitlin said. “Where is Mommy?”

Marie wished Caitlin would stop talking about Ellen.

“He did not invite me to the wedding,” Lili said. Lili was gripping the bottom of Benoît’s sweater, like a child.

“I was in prison,” Marie said.

Lili looked confused, but she didn’t respond. Marie understood what she was doing. The French actress would treat Marie as if she was the babysitter. The servant. As if she did not exist.

“She already knows we are in France,” Benoît told Marie.

“How?” Marie asked. “How does she know?”

“The credit card. The plane tickets.”

Marie nodded. They had thought nothing through. Eluding Ellen would be harder than the police. Caitlin was off her nap schedule. There would be jet lag to contend with.

“You haven’t talked to Ellen?” Marie said. “Have you?”

Marie did not see how he could have, since he had spent every single second with the French actress, but she also couldn’t be sure.

Benoît shook his head. “Just the messages.”

“Wishing me a life in prison.”

“If I pay for a hotel on her credit card, she will know where to look.”

“You don’t have a credit card in your own name?”

“Marie,” he said, irritated.

“I live in the best
arrondissement
in Paris,” the French actress said, speaking loudly as if that would improve her English. “You can walk everywhere. The best restaurants, the nicest gardens, the best museums. Shopping. Do you know Paris?” Lili Gaudet did not wait for Marie’s answer. “It is a beautiful city. The most beautiful in the world. I used to tell Benoît I could not imagine him anywhere else.”

“That’s what his sister told him,” Marie said.

Benoît had begun to load all the luggage into the trunk of the black car, helping the driver, which made it impossible for him to contribute to the conversation and also made the decision to go to Lili Gaudet’s apartment final. Four bags and a stroller.

“Car seat,” Caitlin said, when Marie tried to put her in the car.

They’d packed everything else, but not the car seat.

Marie never had to worry about these details before. Caitlin had not demanded a car seat the day before, when they took a taxi to the zoo. Marie looked at Lili Gaudet, and her mind flashed back to the prison, the intense heat of the laundry room, the simple monotony of folding clothes. There were no serious mistakes to make in prison. There was only work to do, sheets and towels and uniforms to clean, and then more laundry, a never-ending supply, until her body ached with exhaustion. Marie closed her eyes, just for a second, and she breathed in deep. The Paris air was redolent with exhaust fumes.

“A seat belt is good, too,” Marie told Caitlin.

“No,” Caitlin said. “Car seat.”

“You’ll be fine, Kit Kat. I’ll just strap you in. You’ll see.”

“She misses her mother, no?” Lili said.

Marie understood that Lili was trying to undercut Marie’s authority. They were not and would never be friends. Marie went to the trunk, where Benoît was still busy with the bags, and she picked a suitcase at random. She opened it and found Caitlin’s Elmo.

“C’est
Elmo,” Lili said. “We have him here, too, in France.”

Marie handed the red stuffed doll to Caitlin.

“Elmo,” Caitlin said, hugging the red doll to her chest. Marie buckled Caitlin’s seat belt and sat down next to Caitlin in the backseat, her knees bent to her chest, her feet up on the bump, and Lili sat down next to her. She was wearing a flowery perfume that Marie did not like.

“You will love my apartment,” she said.

Benoît was in front, next to the driver. Marie rolled down the window on Lili’s side, and then they were off.