Justin Kramon (21 page)

“What are you trying to tell me, Fin?” Sylvan said.

And suddenly a memory struck Finny. It was that time Poplan sat Finny down in her room at Thorndon, after Finny had delivered that awful note, and Poplan said,
Judith is a bad influence.
Finny hadn’t wanted to believe it could be true at the time, and she didn’t want to believe it now. She couldn’t betray her friend, as much as she couldn’t betray her brother.

So she said to Sylvan, “I’m not trying to tell you anything, except what I said. Which is that Judith is a good person, but I don’t want you to expect too much of her. I’m glad you guys have fun together. She’s great for that. But in the long run, I’m not sure what kind of wife she would be. Once she loses her figure, she’s liable to get cranky.”

“That’s good to know,” Sylvan said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

And Finny left it there, hoping what she’d said was enough.

Chapter
22
Finny Goes to Paris

Two hurdles before winter break: Laura and finals.

Finny had already gotten her passport the week after she’d left home, just in case the opportunity for a trip arose. So she didn’t have that to worry about. It turned out Laura wasn’t anything to worry about either. When Finny told her mother she was thinking about going to France with a friend for the holidays, Laura said, “Sounds great, honey. I’m jealous. I guess Gerald and I might be opening presents alone, if Sylvan doesn’t come.” And Laura must have been excited enough about that prospect that she didn’t even ask Finny who the friend was.

Finny called Earl, told him everything was clear at home, wished him a safe trip back, told him she’d see him soon.

The next day she called a travel agent and spent half her life savings on a round-trip ticket to Paris.

Then she was caught in a haze of studying and paper-writing, a fog of days and nights in the library, short naps that she optimistically called “sleep.” She saw a lot of her roommate; Dorrie studied in the room, so as not to be distracted by Steven Bench.

During this time Finny got a quick note from Sylvan. She had written to tell him she wasn’t coming home for winter vacation, in case it affected his plans. He thanked her, saying that he probably wouldn’t go home for too long in that case.
I’m not sure where I’ll go. Maybe I’ll spend part of the time here, and part in New York. Then maybe Baltimore for a week or two. And by the way, things went well with Judith the other weekend. Just thought you’d want to know.

Finny wondered what “well” meant. She had to fight the urge to call Sylvan and talk the whole situation over again. But she saw Dorrie, hunched over a chemistry textbook, and it was enough to yank Finny’s mind back to where it needed to be. She’d give Sylvan a call as soon as she got back from France.

Then finals were over. No time to organize, she just threw some clothes in a bag. She boarded the plane a little after seven, and promptly fell asleep. She didn’t wake up until she was in France.

Earl was there to meet Finny’s plane. In the airport they kissed, held on to each other like they’d been apart for years, rather than a few weeks. He took her through Charles de Gaulle, through what seemed an endless series of buses and escalators and walkways, until they finally got to the B3 metro, which would shuttle them into Paris.

“My mom wanted to be at home to meet you,” Earl said when he and Finny were on the train, “but she had to work.”

“I completely understand,” Finny said. “I don’t want to put her out at all.”

“She’s just excited to meet you.”

“That’s cute.”

“And anyway,” Earl said, “this is better because now you can go back and nap, and you don’t have to feel like you need to stay up and talk. You must be exhausted.”

“Actually, I’m wide awake.”

It was true. Whether because it was Finny’s first full night of sleep in a week, or whether it was just the excitement of being here, on this new continent with Earl, Finny couldn’t even imagine sleeping. Every little thing thrilled her: the language, the beautiful women, the sour odor of the man holding the pole next to her, the little crank on the metro door you had to turn to get the door to pop open when the train stopped.

After one transfer, they walked upstairs, onto the street. Earl rolled Finny’s suitcase for her, and she kept her backpack strapped on her shoulders. She was surprised to see that the streets looked pretty much like the streets in a big American city. Except there were bakeries on the corners instead of delis. And the magazines on view in the magazine booths showed pictures of actual topless women, their breasts displayed like meat hanging in a butcher’s window. She and Earl walked up a small hill, until they reached the address Earl had written on the envelopes of his letters to her when they were in high school. There was a double wooden door that must have been ten feet tall, with brass handles that looked like they were made for giants’ hands. Earl punched in a code on the call box next to the door, there was a small click, and then they pushed through the doors into the building.

The space they walked into was dark, and very cold, and soon Finny realized that they weren’t inside at all. They were in some kind of tunnel, their feet on a stone walkway, and Finny could see light ahead of them. Earl pressed a switch on the wall, and the tunnel lit up. There was a small apartment to their right, which Earl explained was a superintendent’s room. As they walked forward, Finny could see that the bright space ahead of them was a courtyard. They walked into it, a gorgeous green square of lawn. Around it were garages for the cars of the presumably wealthy people who lived here. A stone path bordered the grass, where the cars could drive. It was quiet here, walled off from the city. Finny looked up at the majestic building, its beige walls nearly golden in the bright winter sun.

“In France, it’s a big deal to live on the third floor, which they call the second,” Earl whispered to Finny. “There are a few ground-floor apartments here that are smaller and a little less expensive. A photographer lives in that one.” He pointed to a window through which Finny could see a television set. “And a lady who works as an, uh, escort, lives there.” He pointed to another window, which was shielded by a curtain at the moment. “For a while I didn’t understand what she did. I kept asking my mom, and she would always laugh. The lady advertises as a massage therapist. She sometimes has different guys waiting in the courtyard at lunchtime. It’s pretty funny. No one really cares. One time, just for fun, my mom went in to ask for a massage, and the lady said she was all booked up. Even though there was no one inside.”

It seemed like here there was a frankness, an everydayness to sex, which Finny liked. She said to Earl, “Have you ever gone in for a ‘massage’?”

“Um,” Earl said, turning red.

“Really?”

“My mom bought me one for my eighteenth birthday. It was kind of awkward, but I told her I’d go through with it.”

Finny laughed, clapping a hand over the ugly jealous voice in her head. She didn’t want to acknowledge all that pettiness. What was the big deal about a “massage”? And it wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of other boys during the last four years either.

So she said, “Your mom sounds funny. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

“Well, if you’re not tired, we can go over soon and visit her at work. She said she wanted you to come by when you woke up anyway. Let’s just go stick your stuff upstairs.”

Earl led Finny to a door on the far side of the courtyard, which he opened with a key. It was still cool inside, and he had to hit another switch to get the light to go on.

“We gotta move fast,” he said. “Or else the light goes off and I have to grope for the switch.”

They hustled up a very narrow, tightly wound staircase. Earl said that it was only five flights, but it felt like it would never stop because they were turning so much.

“The regular staircase is nicer,” Earl said. “But this one is the only way to get to the maids’ rooms.”

He pointed at the door on the third floor and said, “That’s the American lady my mom rents from. I don’t even think she’s around.”

When they reached the top landing, there were doors on either side of them, and a door behind Finny, which Earl said was where the toilet was. He opened the door to their right with another key, and they walked into the room.

It was stuffy, as Earl had said—and unbelievably small. There was a kitchen counter, with a sink and two burners in it, a small refrigerator beneath it. A table was pushed into the corner between the counter and the wall, and there was only enough room for two chairs beneath it. There were some red cushions stacked against one wall, which Earl explained could be spread out to make a bed for them later. And on the far wall, a little window through which Finny could get a view of the rooftop next door.

“Where does your mom sleep?” Finny asked.

“She’s renting the other room, across the hall, too. The lady who was living there moved out, and my mom had saved a little money. She decided she needed the extra space. So we have this room to ourselves.”

“Wow,” Finny said. “An apartment in Paris to ourselves.”

“Not bad,” Earl said, “right?”

“I can hardly believe it.”

Earl’s mom worked in a hair salon on Rue La Fayette. It was only a five-minute walk from Earl’s apartment. The salon occupied a very small storefront, sandwiched between a jewelry store and a chocolate shop. The sign on the door said
Salon deCoiffure
, and then beneath that:
Ramon de la Peña.
Earl led Finny inside, a bell on the door ringing as they entered. The shop was tiny, only two barber’s chairs and two chairs with the heated domes that came down over your hair for drying, one sink for washing hair. There was a small desk in front, which was empty at present. In fact, there was no one in the shop. Finny and Earl placed their coats on a coat rack by the door.

Then Finny heard a woman’s voice from the back of the store, which was shielded by some black silk screens with pictures of purple cranes on them.
“Bonjour!”
the voice said.

“Hey, Mom,” Earl said.

The woman who emerged from behind the screens was taller than Finny had expected her to be. Probably because Earl and Mr. Henckel were so short, Finny had expected Earl’s mom to be, too. But this woman had the opposite of their squashed frame: she was almost unnaturally elongated, with arms and legs that seemed stretched like taffy—so thin and white. Her pallor was accentuated by the simple black dress she wore, and by her dark hair, which was pulled back in a tight bun, moistened by some kind of hair product. She had a strong nose, and thick, somewhat square eyebrows. Her whole body seemed pliable as dough when she walked, and Finny had the feeling she could pop into a handstand at a moment’s notice.

“Hello, hello,” Earl’s mom said to Finny and Earl, waving dramatically, like they were much farther away.

“Hi,” Finny said, and held out her hand to shake.

But the woman took Finny in her slender, surprisingly strong arms and gave her a long hug. “Finny,” Earl’s mom said while they were still hugging, “I’m so, so happy to meet you. I’ve been waiting so long for this day.”

“Me, too,” Finny said, a little taken aback by the intensity of the greeting. She wasn’t sure what to call Earl’s mom, since she knew she wasn’t a Henckel.

Finally, Earl’s mom let go. Finny had to take a deep breath, since all the air had been squeezed out of her lungs.

“I’m Mona Trebble,” Earl’s mom told Finny. “But you should call me Mona.”

“You should call me Finny,” Finny said.

“You’re stunning,” Mona blurted out. “One of the most beautiful young women I’ve ever seen.”

“Uh, thanks,” Finny said, though she wanted to say more, as if there’d been some obvious error she needed to explain.

But Earl saved her. “Finny slept her whole flight,” he told his mom, “so she didn’t need a nap. We decided we’d come right down and see you.”

Mona’s reaction to this statement was a bit more pronounced than Finny would have expected: her eyes flooded with tears. “This is the most wonderful day of my life,” she said, sniffling and trying to collect herself.

Finny supposed that she hadn’t realized the importance of this visit to Earl’s mom, how honored Mona must have been that Earl would bring his girlfriend all the way to France to meet her. Only later did Finny see how extreme Mona’s emotional reactions were to everything; you could have held the door for her and she would have burst into tears.

“I’m really happy to be here,” Finny said.

“To have my son and his love together in my home. Who could imagine a greater joy?” She was beaming, her eyes reflecting the overhead lights.

“Not me,” Finny said.

“My son is such a wonderful, thoughtful child,” Mona went on.

“Mom,” Earl said.

“I’m just so excited,” Mona said. “To think that under a roof I have provided, you and your lover will be snuggling up together, kissing, petting, whatever else you do—it’s the greatest accomplishment I could hope for.”

“So inappropriate, Mom,” Earl said, his cheeks glowing.

“Anyway, I have a surprise for you,” Mona said to Finny. “It’s something very, very special, to welcome you to France.” She looked at Earl. “Is now a good time, honey?”

“Sure,” Earl said. Finny could see he was already tired from this visit with his mom. “Why don’t you see if Finny wants to do it, though?”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Mona said, clasping her hands over her heart like she was trying to catch a scurrying mouse on her chest. “Of course we wouldn’t do it if Finny wasn’t interested. But it’s such an honor.” She looked at Finny. “I couldn’t imagine you not being interested.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell,” Earl said to Finny. “But definitely don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to.”

“What is it?” Finny asked.

“Ramon has agreed to cut your hair.
For free.”
Mona whispered these last two words, as if they were too unbelievable to say at full volume.

“Actually, I just got a haircut not that long ago. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”