A ROMANCE IN PROVENCE

March - Part 1

The first days of March appeared and with them the arrival of the first tourists. Not that Luberon has completely emptied of specimens wandering around with cameras around their necks, and brochures from the tourist office in hand in recent weeks. In truth, the first days of March marked the start of a more intensive pace at the hotel, and the arrival of visitors from the Nordic countries, looking for rays of sun absent from their homes.

The hotel was emerging from its winter sleep. The gardeners were busy in the park, we opened the rooms, and did the spring cleaning. The first sun loungers were set up by the pool, and already they were taken by storm by the Scandinavian beauties. They exposed their diaphanous skins, barely covered by mini shorts, tank tops and flip-flops, a heresy for the natives. Danielle and most of my colleagues had not given up on their down jackets. For my part, I had found a happy balance, reducing my wardrobe without however considering that spring was already here.

School had started up a few days ago, and Rose had returned to her mother’s house. I spent some time with her during her stay with her father. She was looked after in turn by the various members of her family when Vincent had to go to work. We played cards at Papet and Mamée’s, coloured at Mireille’s, prepared cakes at Nicole and Auguste. But the little girl had a clear preference for the afternoons at Danielle’s (certainly because of the very lax rules imposed by her, or rather the total lack of rules). So I spent a lot of my free time with the child, devouring cookies on the sofa in front of the Snow Queen for example.

It was impossible not to fall totally under the charm of the little girl. From the height of these five years, she had also understood the influence she could have over us, poor adults at her mercy.

When it was time for her to go back to her mother after the two weeks off, Vincent took her to see us so that she could say goodbye. She wrapped her chubby little arms around my neck and made me promise to spend time with her on the next spring break. Then, the most serious in the world she added:

“You know, Cali, when I leave, Dad will be all alone.”

“He won’t be alone, sweetie, there’s your grandma Mireille, Papet and Mamée, Nicole, Auguste, Danielle and I will take care of him until you return.”

The little girl frowned, seeming to think about a question, then asked me:

“Could you maybe help me find him a lover?”

Fortunately, at that time I had finished my coffee, otherwise, I would have choked on it!

“Sweetheart, it’s not up to us to find a lover for your Dad, it’s up to him to look for one, and only if he wants to. Maybe Dad prefers to be alone.”

“Yes, but if he had one, he would be less lonely and sad when I’m not around.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the childish remark. Rose seemed very serious.

“Listen, if I meet a young lady who could make a nice love for your dad, I will talk to him and to you, too.”

Rose smiles at me with all her baby teeth.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I replied, kissing her cheek. “Now, get in the car, you’ll be leaving soon.”

Rose released me to rush to her father. Even if he looked okay in front of us, we felt that the idea of being separated from his daughter in a few hours hurt his heart. Vincent had given me until two weeks ago, the image of a rather cold and distant man. I had to admit that having seen him interact with Rose, I had somewhat revised my judgment. In contact with his daughter, he was no longer the same. He even smiled! You could tell he was happy.

The approaching spring and my time shared with Rose hadn’t however made me forget what had happened with Hugo, that infamous night in the snow. I had knowingly avoided him for a few days, using my best ninja techniques to disappear behind a door as soon as I heard the sound of his voice in a hallway, or else pretending to be interested in the insipid conversation of a colleague when he appeared in the cafeteria.

Luckily, we didn’t get a chance to be alone. When work brought us into the same room, it was for conference calls with headquarters or meetings after which I disappeared as quickly as Lewis Hamilton on the straights.

Once, however, on the occasion of a shared elevator, his fingers had discreetly brushed mine, without me knowing if it was intended or pure coincidence. I was wondering what he thought of our unusual groping session, but I was too cowardly to go ask him the question.

Until the day he was on my doorstep.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked me, closing the door delicately behind him.

I’m used to leaving my office door wide open, so I assumed he wanted our conversation to be private.

“Not at all, sit down,” I replied, pointing to the chairs in front of me.

He settled down as if he seemed unwilling to give in to the comfort of the seat. He seemed nervous and even avoided my eyes a little.

“Well, here you are,” he started, placing his palms flat on his knees. “I wondered if it would please you, of course...”

“Yes?” I encouraged him.

“If you were available on Saturday evening, and if I could take you to dinner somewhere?”

He looked up at me with a hopeful look, and I was stunned to realize that this self-confident man at work was trying to invite me out like a teenager.

“Would it be an invitation for a date?” I teased him.

“It’s supposed to be,” he whispered. “I’m going at it like a fish, aren’t I?”

“Yes. Actually,” I said. “No! You’re not doing it like a fish. I mean yes for the invitation.”

Now I was the one who started babbling!

“Saturday 8 p.m. I’ll pick you up.”

My confirmation had restored his confidence. At least, you had to believe that his weakness had only been temporary. But it had shown me that he was not as perfect as he seemed to be in his tailored suit. And that he too may not have known how to handle the situation after our last kiss.

I had a date with Hugo! This left me dreamy for a good part of the afternoon. And I was as excited as a dust mite at a carpet shop about telling Danielle!

On Friday night, Danielle and I were planning a DVD night together.

“I stopped by the grocery store before I came, you don’t know about the big ice cream tubs? There were only miniature ones that you finish in two bites! Well, I ended up finding a weird brand with a Vermeer painting on it, but don’t expect a vanilla chip cookie or a banana brownie, it’s just basic chocolate,” I grumbled.

“First of all, we eat ice cream in summer, you know the season when it’s hot? Next, we prefer flavours that haven’t been developed in a test tube.”

“Bananas are natural,” I tried.

Danielle replied with a roll of her eyes meaning: are you so naive my poor girl?

I put the groceries in the cupboards and the ice cream in the freezer. We used to make it a habit that I fill the fridge and Danielle cooks. This was a winning arrangement. At least my sense of organization saved us from starvation and Danielle’s culinary talents from food poisoning.

“What are you doing?” I asked, sprawling on the couch next to her.

Danielle was frantically typing on her phone, smiling at her screen.

“I’m chatting with a new guy.”

“Who’s the lucky one?”

I leaned over her shoulder to try to catch a clue.

“His name is Julien. He’s pretty cute, look.”

She scrolled through several photographs of a brown-haired man with big chocolate eyes and laughing. I had to admit that his photos were quite convincing.

“You’re never disappointed when you meet them in person?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I guess everyone posts their best photos on this type of site, so reality doesn’t always fit when you see them in the flesh.”

“It happens sometimes. Not often, actually. But you can have some good surprises. What happens much more regularly, though, is that the guy looks funny and confident behind a keyboard, but then he’s heavy or creepy in real life.”

“And what does this Julien tell you?”

“He’s started quite well, he lives in L’Isle-Sur-la-Sorgue and he’s a plumber.”

“OK, he doesn’t live too far away, what does it matter if he’s a plumber since you aren’t looking for someone to settle down with?”

Although she denies it, I still suspected Danielle was looking among all these encounters for a potential future life companion. But her answer disarmed me a little:

“If he’s a plumber, he’s a practical type, and I’m not going to draw you a picture to explain to you what advantages there are in dating a practical guy…”

“He can fix your sink?” I teased.

“God, you’re naive!” she replied, feigning exasperation.

“I know men who aren’t practical, and who do well in bed.”

“That’s because you only slept with desk jockeys and you don’t know anything else.”

I pretended to be upset by her answer, but thinking for two minutes I realized that I had only had intimate relations with guys who spent most of their working time behind a computer. Not that the list is very long.

“It takes skill to type on a keyboard,” I said.

“That’s why you have to find a craftsman who does his own accounting!”

We laughed together, as a little beep announced to Danielle the arrival of a new message.

“Ah! He tells me he has two problems he should tell me about because it got him in trouble with other girls.”

“What?”

“Wait, he’s writing to me. By cons, if he tells me that his two problems are two kids, I disconnect immediately. I can’t stand guys who consider having children as a burden.”

“Are there some who do that?”

“You’re so cute,” she said sarcastically. “What do you think? There are already a lot of assholes on earth, so just imagine that online, there’s a concentration.”

She looked back to her phone, a new message has appeared.

“He tells me that he’s 6'2!”

“Crap! That’s tall! Well, unless you’re playing in the NBA,” I added in a pragmatic tone.

“Yes, which will never happen to him while living in Vaucluse. Well, I’m 5'7, I’m not small. The advantage is that even if I put on my 6-inch heels, I’m still less than him.”

“And if you need a helping hand to grab a tin can on the top of a shelf, it’ll be super useful.”

“Except you’re the one doing the shopping, and I don’t plan on going shopping with him anyway, even if you weren’t here. Well, I think he’s a bit tall, but it’s not completely disqualifying. Let’s wait to see the second problem.”

We looked at the screen together and when the little bubble appeared talking about the second problem we each froze for a second, then we looked at each other before bursting out laughing.

“26 centimetres!”

“I don’t know what shocks me the most,” I say between two giggles. “That he gives you the length of his s*x while you’ve known him by text messages for less than an hour, or the size itself.”

“Let’s say he’s logically proportioned... From what he writes, it often poses a problem, that’s why he prefers to warn me. But 26 centimetres! Is it that big? I just simply can’t tell. Get out the measuring tape,” she exclaimed.

I jumped up to rummage through the kitchen drawer for the measuring tape. I then showed her what these famous 26 centimetres represented.

“Oh! It’s not that impressive after all,” she commented, tilting her head to the side.

“You’re joking! It’s enormous. Hold on! I have an idea,” I exclaimed, diving into one of the cupboards that I had filled a few minutes before.

I pulled out the bottle of air-freshener bought earlier.

“Here! You have your 26 centimetres!”

I proudly exhibited the lavender air-freshener spray can.

“Oh my God! But it’s gigantic!” Danielle exclaimed with wide eyes.

“Or you also have the cleaner for the oven. Same size, but wider version,” I said, “But you know what they say: go big or go home!”

Danielle stared at me strangely then went back to spontaneous laughter, holding her ribs to contain the spasms running through her. As for me, I laugh to the point of tears.

After a few minutes of this sweet madness, I proposed:

“Shall we watch this movie?”

“With pleasure, I think I’ll wait until I’ve regained my senses, and above all digested the important information, to chat again with Julien.”

“Action or romantic movie?”

“Action. No mush tonight.”

I put the DVD in the player and then settled comfortably with my roommate on the sofa. We were quickly caught up in the story, watching these men string together stunts, brawls and exchanges of gunfire. Fortunately, none of them was more than two metres tall.