A ROMANCE IN CANNES

Chapter 4

As expected, the announcement that I was leaving had the effect of a bomb. First a great silence, then chaos.

Everyone had a question to ask: Why? When? But what are you going to do there?

It was my mother who silenced everyone by exclaiming in a heartbreaking voice:

“But why do you want to leave? Are you not okay here?”

The pie she had in her hands almost ended up on the floor. Fortunately, Vincent has reflexes of a lynx and grabs it to put it on the table; you could always count on him to save the food. My poor mother, meanwhile, was standing in the middle of the living room, her arms dangling, her hands spread wide in red polka-dotted oven gloves. In another context, her appearance could have made me laugh.

But how do I answer her? Indeed, it wasn’t bad, here in Gordes, to live in an apartment in the heart of the family property. But how to tell them that I had, little by little, the feeling of suffocating? That I wanted to be elsewhere, even if it wasn’t far away.

“Mom, I’m fine here, but I have this chance…,” I started.

“Is it your job that you don’t like anymore? You know, there are other hotels in the region, and then, if you wanted to do professional retraining, we would understand.”

“Mom, I know all that. I don’t want another position in the region, I want something bigger, different, where I can flourish…”

It was one word too much. To tell my mother that I wasn’t fulfilled was to imply that she had missed something in my education. It was like I was questioning all the hours she had spent braiding my hair and teaching me how to ride a bike. I felt that the situation was slipping away from me, the tears were already in her eyes.

“You don’t want to live with us anymore, do you? I don’t understand, you have everything here: a loving family, a big apartment…”

My father grabbed her hand in a gesture of support. For my part, I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to calm myself down.

“Mom, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting to live my whole life in the house where I was born.”

“You weren’t born here, you were born in the hospital, my father pointed out.”

I rolled my eyes.

“It’s the same. Except during my studies, I never left. I’ve worked at the same hotel for almost eight years. Before that, in another establishment, two kilometres away. I think it’s time for me to get some fresh air. This doesn’t mean that I’ll leave until the end of my life!”

“We know how it goes, you’re going to go there, you’re going to meet someone and you’re never coming back. Just like Cali!”

The interested party made a small grimace then tried to come to my defence.

“Nicole, Danielle is just going to Cannes, not Australia. It’s only two and a half hours away, so she can come and visit us often.”

“Oh! I know my daughter, Cali, she’ll always have an excuse not to come. Too much work, not enough time…”

It’s true that when I left for my studies, I didn’t come back regularly. But, at that time, I was a broke young student. And above all, I was in love; at twenty, when you have to choose between spending the weekend with your parents or with your darling, you don’t think long.

“Well, you’re the one coming to see me,” I argued, hoping she wouldn’t take the invitation for granted too often either.

“So you’re going to work in this palace on the Croisette?” asked Mireille, certainly to divert the conversation a little. “Do you think you will meet stars?”

“It’s possible, especially during the Film Festival in May, I suppose.”

“Oh! If you ever come across that Egyptian actor with the big dark eyes, can you bring me an autograph?”

“Uh…”

I had absolutely no idea who she was talking about.

“You know! The one who played a prince in the desert…”

I glanced questioningly at Cali and Vincent, to see if they had any idea, but they looked as lost as I did.

“Let’s see! He was also in Doctor Zhivago!”

I was pretty bad at movies, especially when it came to movies released long before I was born. Fortunately, Cali knew her classics.

“Omar Sharif?”

“Yes! That’s it!” exclaimed my aunt. “Omar Sharif!”

“Mom, Danielle will have a hard time seeing him, I think he’s dead,” Vincent intervened.

“How so? Oh, the poor thing! Why am I not aware of this?”

She looked upset, as though pained that someone had forgotten to send her an obituary for a close friend.

“Well, I’ll settle for an autograph from Sean Connery or Roger Moore. Why not, even if I think he was a less good James Bond.”

She didn’t notice that both were also no longer of this world. Or the fact that my job certainly didn’t allow me to ask hotel guests for autographs.

I went to sit next to my mother, who was sulking in the corner.

“Mom, I know you’re sad but, as we were saying earlier, I’m not going very far. You can come and see me whenever you want, and I promise to come back to Gordes from time to time.”

My father, who was sitting on the other side, puts his arm around her shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

“Have you thought about your grandparents? They’re no longer very young and…”

“Thank you, Nicole, I don’t have one foot in the grave yet!” scolded Papet, who had remained very silent until now. “The little one is right to want to leave. Look at you there! All so suffocating! She must live a little, this child!”

It suited him well to ask them to give me some air. He spent his time watching my every move, but his statement at least had the advantage of keeping everyone quiet.

My mother was watching him, her mouth hanging open as if she didn’t recognize him.

“You’re right, Danielle, to go to Cannes. It’s a very beautiful city, with charming people…”

“First of all, what do you know about it? You’ve never set foot there!” remarked Mamée. “All you know about Cannes are the reports about the half-naked starlets. Is that what you want for your little girl?”

“Mamée, I’m not going there to try to get a role in the cinema. I’m going to work in a hotel, like here.”

“I hope you’re not going there to walk around with your chest out in the open! If I ever saw pictures of you like that, I don’t think my poor heart would survive it.”

My grandmother had the heart of a young girl; it was rather her head that wasn’t always right. But I pretended to take the threat very seriously. I wasn’t a topless fan anyway, and I doubted that, even if I converted to it, I would interest any photographer.

“Well, if we agree on that, you have my blessing, my dear,” she finished.

“I promise, Grandma. No compromising photos.”

I turned to my mother, who sighed.

“Well, if that’s what you want, I can’t stop you,” she replied in a resigned tone. “Maybe it will allow you to meet a handsome young man and I’ll finally have the chance to be a grandmother.”

I wasn’t going to tell her that this day might never come, so I agreed with her.

“Yes, you never know.”

She finally smiles a little.

“You would prefer that we were more enthusiastic about the idea of your departure. But you’re my only baby, so understand me…”

“I know, mom, I know.”

I placed a kiss on her cheek. My father cleared his throat.

“What your mother forgets to tell you is that, even though you’re leaving, we understand that this new position is very prestigious, and the competition must be tough to get it. Well done, sweetie. We’re proud of you.”

My dad wasn’t one to talk just to fill the silence, so his words came straight to my heart. I got up and kissed him too.

I promised once again to come back to see them regularly and answered the multitude of questions they had: where I was going to live, if I was going to make a decent living, etc. When, an hour later, I left their apartment to go back to mine, perhaps I finally confessed to myself what was happening to me: I was leaving.