The French Girl (14 page)

I was abruptly awakened by the sound of raised voices.  I sat up for a moment and tried to remember where I was. Many times I woke up in the night thinking I was back on the sofa in Cote Nouveau.  I tiptoed out of bed and crept down the hallway towards Giselle and Jean’s room.  Their door was partially tipped open and I could see their reflections in the long mirror as Giselle took off her earrings and placed them in a box.

***

“I agree she was rude,” Jean said.

“Rude?” Giselle said.  “That is an understatement, Jean.”

Jean began to unbutton her chambray shirt and paused.  “I know and I’m sorry.  I realize you don’t see anything redeeming in her, but she really is a brilliant lawyer and an excellent teacher.  She has such energy in her classroom.  Her students are so engaged….”

“Oh I am certain they are engaged.  And what is up with those girls?  What in heaven’s name do they see in her, Jean?”

“I’ll be darned if I can figure it out, but she’s with a different one every week.”

“Well I hope they are all having a good time,” Giselle said, “because it will be short lived, no doubt.  I am sorry, Jean, but I do not think she and I will ever be friends…”

Jean came over and stood behind Giselle as she began to slip off her necklace.  Jean pulled her hair back, leaned down and kissed Giselle in the small of her neck.  I watched as Giselle shut her eyes and leaned back towards Jean, who slipped her arms around the waist of Giselle’s dress.

“I don’t care if you’re ever friends with her as long as you’re always friends with me,” she said as she nestled her head in Giselle’s neck.

“Jean…” Giselle said very quietly.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look in that dress?”

“Only a hundred times.”

Jean drew her closer to her.  “Can we be very good friends right now?”

“Shut the door,” Giselle said.

***

The next day, Jean went up the attic and dug out the Cote Nouveau painting and hung it on the wall across from my bed. That night when I went to bed, I somehow felt I had both a happy Maman and a kind Madame Duvais watching over me.  Still, there was something strange about the painting that I could not quite figure out…

CHAPTER TEN

“Look,” I said catching up to Winnie. “My mood ring is dark blue.”

Winnie took my hand in hers, studied the ring and announced, “Etoile, that means you are in a very romantic mood,” she said giggling. I quickly pulled my hand away and felt my cheeks redden.

“I think it means I was chasing you too hard around the playground.”

“And you still cannot get me.  Catch you on the flip side,” she said taking off ahead of me. She had long legs like Jean.  I tried to catch up with her but stopped abruptly when Dale Batchelder emerged from behind a tree and blocked my way.

“Chasing after your girlfriend?” he asked, his eyes pinched against the sun.

I turned and ran the other way back towards the school.  Winnie saw me and came running up beside me, throwing her arm around my neck the way she always did and tugging at me.

“How come you stopped chasing me?” she asked.

“I just did not feel like it anymore.  It is too hot.”

Winnie punched me in the arm.  “Don’t be such a spaz,” she said.

“I am not a spaz,” I said frowning.

“You are a spaz,” Winnie said as she broke away from me and headed towards another group of girls near the brick wall of the school that were playing “Miss Mary Mack.”  Winnie had tried to teach it to me but for some reason, I could not get the coordination down of when to slap left and when to slap right.  I wondered if Jean or Giselle knew how to do it.  Disappointed, I walked slowly back into the school to find a book to read.

The classroom was empty as I rummaged through my desk.  I pulled out my copy of
The Hidden Staircase
and noticed a small slip of paper sticking out of the end that I had not noticed before. I took it out and unfolded it thinking perhaps Giselle had slipped me a note, which she sometimes did wishing me a good day or saying how much they loved me.

I unfolded the paper and quickly read the word clumsily scribbled across it and felt my stomach immediately flip into a knot.  Just then, the bell rang and the other students began to filter back in. I turned to see Dale Batchelder watching me.  He sat down in his seat and began gnawing on the end of a pencil, all the while staring at me. I looked at my mood ring which had turned nearly blood red and knew it probably matched my cheeks.

My legs could not keep up with the rest of my body as I flew down the long driveway towards Stone Cottage. Giselle was stooped over the vegetable garden wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, a sleeveless blouse and a long skirt.  She looked up as I sailed past her.

“Hello,
Cherie
.  How was school?” she asked, but I ignored her and ran straight to my room.  “Etoile!” I heard her call after me.  I climbed the stairs, shut the door and rummaged through my closet until I found the small blue bag. Opening drawers, I realized I had far more now than when I had originally arrived and that I would take only what was absolutely necessary.

I heard Giselle’s feet on the stairs and a small tap on the door.

“Etoile?” she said.  “May I come in?”

I did not answer her.  She opened the door anyway and stood there looking at me with a look of great concern on her face.

“Etoile, what is wrong?” She spotted the blue bag and her mouth parted.  “Etoile, please answer me.”

“I want to go.”

“Go where?”

“Back to Cote Nouveau.”

Giselle crossed her arms. “Why?”

“Because…because I do not belong here.”

“Of course you belong here.  We are family.”

“I want to be with other family.  I want to go and find Anais,” I said as my stomach squeezed even tighter.  I ignored it.

“Etoile,” she said as she came forward and placed her arm on my shoulder, but I pulled away.

“Do not touch me!” I shouted.  “I do not want you to touch me!”

“Etoile, please tell me what is wrong!”

“Why can’t you just be…” I began to say.

“Be what? Be what, Etoile?”

I slammed the drawer shut.

“Normal!”

She took a step back, folded her arms back across her chest and studied me for some time before asking, “What has happened?”

I continued to ignore her as I shoved several
Nancy Drew’s
that I had not read yet into the bag. I did not think Jean would mind. Giselle came towards me and spun me around.

“Etoile, what is wrong?”

I was not planning on answering her, but I saw the look of concern on her face and realized that I did not want her to worry about me when I was gone. Without a word, I walked over to my bed and dug out the book with the slip of paper still sticking out and handed it to her.

Her shoulders stiffened as she read the word and folded the slip of paper back up.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was left it in my book at school.”

She slipped the paper into her skirt pocket. “And you understand what this word means?”

I nodded.

“I am so sorry, Etoile.”

“I do not want to go back to that school.”

“But Etoile, you love school.”

“Please Giselle,” I pleaded, “You are so smart and you know about so many things, so does Jean. You could teach me from home. Please, Giselle, I do not want to go back there.”

“But you have made friends.  What would Winnie think if you did not show up at school anymore?”

“Winnie does not like me either.”

“Of course she does.  You talk about her all the time.”

“They all hate me. I can’t even play Miss Mary Mack.”

“Why do you have to be like them?”

I could not think of an answer.

“Come with me for a moment,” she said.

Giselle led me outside to the flower garden and sat down on the ground.  She gestured to me to join her.

“It is not you they hate,
Cherie
.  It is that we are different.  Here, do you see this soil?” she said digging her hands into the dirt.

“Yes.”

“Do you see how loose and open it is?”

“Yes.”

She took my hand and dribbled some of the dirt into it.

“Now look here,” she said as she tried to dig her hands into the hard soil of the walkway. “Nothing grows in this because it is hard and dense. You must have openness in order to grow.”

I shook my head, confused.

“The people who write those things are like the dense, hard soil that new ideas and new thoughts can never grow in.  It takes room and space and sometimes courage. It is impossible for them to ever embrace anything that is different unless they are willing to turn over their own soil.  Does that make sense?”

Explaining it that way, it did make sense.  I nodded.

“There will be people you meet all your life whose minds are already as hard as this packed soil and there is very little you or I will be able to do to change them other than to try and be the best person you can be. Do you understand that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  Now come on, I will teach you Miss Mary Mack.”

We sat on the steps of the front porch facing each other as Giselle began to chant the rhyme, “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack.  All dressed in black, black, black.”

I tried to meet her hands, but got confused.  She stopped.

“You just need to get the rhythm,” she said.  “Here, do it in your lap first.”

It was easier that way.  She walked me through the entire rhyme and then we began again. This time, it was much easier and I was able to match her hands each time, even when she began to speed up.

“With silver buttons, buttons, buttons,” Giselle said very quickly, “All down her back, back, back.” Our hands flew at each other until we dissolved into a fit of giggles.  Just then, Jean pulled up on her bike and came over towards us.

“I’ll bet Jean even knows it,” Giselle said.

“Knows what?” Jean asked as she leaned down and kissed Giselle.

“Miss Mary Mack.”

Jean rolled her eyes.  “If I could do Miss Mary Mack, I could probably dance, too,” she said.  “You know I’m not that coordinated.”

“But you are a wonderful athlete,” Giselle observed.

“Large motor skills, fine motor skills.  Two completely different things,” Jean said.

Giselle turned to me. “
Cherie
, would you please go and water the tomatoes for me? I never finished watering them.”

I watched Jean and Giselle disappear inside the house before creeping around to the kitchen window.

“Someone stuck this in her book today at school.”

“What does it say?”

“It says
gouine. 
It means dyke,” Giselle said with a heavy sound of disgust.

“Does she know who it was from?”

“No, but I have my suspicions. The little bastard...”

“Giselle…” Jean replied with a reprimanding tone, “You must remember that it’s the parents who are narrow-minded, not the children.”

“I do not care. They made fun of her because of us.  She is very upset, Jean.”

“Good.”

“What?  What do you mean by good?” Giselle asked, her voice rising.  “How can you say such a thing, Jean?”

“Because, Giselle, we all knew this wasn’t going to be easy.  I’d rather she find out now how people might treat her rather than have her think everyone was going to be accepting of our situation.”

“You said just the other day how glad you were to have her in your life, Jean.”

“And I meant that, but we can’t always stop these things from happening. I know it’s hard to see her suffer because of us…”

“Suffer because of us?” Giselle asked in an outraged tone.  “Suffer because two people love her?  Suffer because she’s cared for?”

“Suffer because of the pain others can inflict with their words.  Suffer because it will always be perceived as different.  Suffer because at her age, she doesn’t have the strength to deal with the intolerance and ignorance that you and I deal with everyday as adults.”

“You forget one thing, Jean.”

“What’s that?”

“She is French.  Real French women are a lot tougher than most.”

***

The next morning, I got up early and came downstairs ready for school. Giselle raised her eyebrows at me as Jean lowered the newspaper she was reading.

“What is this?” Giselle asked.

“I am ready to go back to school,” I announced.

They looked at each other.

“Etoile,” Jean said folding the paper neatly and setting it aside, “Giselle showed me the note and I’m very, very sorry that someone left that for you.  It’s not your fault that…”

“I know,” I said interrupting her.  “They are dense and have no room in their heads for new ideas.”

Jean cocked her head and looked over at Giselle.

“Come on,” Giselle said pushing me to the table.  “It is the start of a new day.”