A ROMANCE IN CANNES

Chapter 5

The day of departure had arrived.

I put away my last box and slammed the trunk. I was now ready to go. The whole family was gathered in the yard: Papet and Mamée, Cali and Vincent, my parents, Mireille and Rose. Given their faces, I felt more like going to war than going to work on the Côte d’Azur.

The time for hugs had come, so I started with my grandparents, knowing that Mamée would be angry with me if I made her miss the start.

I then said goodbye to my aunt, then to Cali and Vincent.

“Are you okay?” I asked my best friend.

“Yes, I feel blue, but it’ll pass,” she answered, taking me in her arms.

I hugged her back.

“Promise me that if my grumpy cousin proposes to you while I’m away, I’ll be the first person you call.”

“I promise,” she laughs.

“Same if you get pregnant.”

“Okay, but only if you do too.”

I pulled away from her arms with a grimace of disgust.

“Yuck! That’s not likely to happen anytime soon!”

Vincent approached, he must have understood that we were talking about him.

“I did a full check-up on your car. Don’t forget to make an appointment for your brake pads in a few months, but so far everything is okay.”

I realised that I was indeed going to have to start worrying about my car. Until now, I had always had Vincent on hand, but now I was going to have to manage without him.

“Thank you, Vincent.”

Little Rose jumps around my neck.

“I’ll miss you, Danielle!”

“Me too, sweetheart. Will you come to see me in Cannes?”

“Yes! I love Cannes! I used to go there with Mom to go shopping when I lived near the sea. You know, we used to go to the merry-go-round next to the beach.”

“Great! You can show me all that, then!”

Of course, I’m talking about the merry-go-round. For shopping, I wasn’t sure I went to the same places as her mother.

I end with my parents. My father gave me a big bear hug, as I adored them as a child, and gave me some typical dad recommendations: lock your door tightly, don’t park your car just anywhere, don’t forget to read the boiler user manual.

My mother hid her emotions and gave me a ton of advice too. She had also prepared a bag of groceries, so I don’t end up with empty cupboards when I arrive. She then handed me a box which had seen better days, and which instantly brought back a ton of memories.

“Why are you giving me the waffle maker, mom?”

“You always loved them. When you were little, I used to make them for you at least once a week. If you’re nostalgic, you can always bake yourself a waffle. It also makes toasted sandwiches,” she added, shedding a little tear.

It was certainly the most useless thing to carry, but I couldn’t decently refuse to take it. And then, she was right. I loved waffles and toasted ham and cheese sandwiches. Her attention touched me. I hugged her and, after promising to take care of myself one more time, I climbed into the car.

When I glanced in my rearview mirror as I drove through the gate, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. But, from the first kilometres, it began to fade. I wasn’t the type to live in the past, but rather in the present moment and, at that time, I especially wanted to see what the future would hold for me.

The day wasn’t easy. Once the drive was done, I met the real estate agent who was to give me the keys to my apartment. I had come to scout a few weeks earlier, and I had set my sights on a small furnished two-room apartment in Le Cannet, a town near Cannes.

Besides, I had trouble finding my bearings. Between Cannes, Cannes-La-Bocca, Le Cannet, Le Cannet-Rocheville, Super Cannes, everything seemed to be called the same.

The keys retrieved, I had undertaken to take all my things in the apartment. This earned me a good amount of back and forths. Luckily for me, I had managed to park at the foot of the building. After all these efforts, sweat beaded on my forehead, I was tempted to collapse on the sofa in my new living room and idle in front of the television until the end of the day. But, for once, my laziness was countered by common sense. If I left the boxes as they were, there was a big chance that in two months most of them would still be lying around. On the other hand, a second element ended up convincing me: I had neither an Internet connection nor television for the moment and, even if I had to have one or two magazines at the bottom of a box, it was first necessary that I empty them to find them. After having finished filling cupboards and drawers, I finally sat down on the sofa and cast an admiring eye over my work.

The apartment was on the fourth and top floor of an old building. However, inside everything was new. The real estate agent confirmed that everything had been repainted just before I arrived, and the furniture looked straight out of the factory. Everything was white and therefore lacked warmth, but I didn’t doubt that over time I would manage to arrange the apartment so that it seemed less cold. I was sure that once my mess took over every available surface, I would feel more at home.

It was seven o’clock and night was already here. Street lights shone into the living room, including the electric blue neon from the pizzeria across the street that promised delivery in thirty minutes, seven days a week. I had just decided I was going to need curtains.

But what struck me after a few minutes, sitting contemplating my new surroundings, was the silence. Even though I was in town, I heard nothing. The owner must have invested in good double glazing, and maybe my neighbours weren’t there? After all, it was Saturday night. Chances were they were out. Imagining what they might be doing, I closed my eyes and ended up falling asleep.

I woke up with a start, a trickle of drool stuck to my cheek. How long had I slept? No idea. I didn’t have a clock in the room, yet another thing to think about during my special apartment decoration shopping spree. I stood up and my stomach rumbled. So I headed to the kitchen area and opened the fridge. I already knew my possessions were meagre, but seeing the pack of ham alone on its shelf made me wince. A little trip to the supermarket instead of my nap wouldn’t have been excessive.

I stared at the ingredients for a moment, as if they were going to tell me what I could turn them into. I end up closing the fridge to open the cupboard door, where some canned goods, a packet of cereal and powdered chocolate meet my eye.

I was considering a meal of Koko Krunch when I realised I had no milk. Already thinking about the unpleasant feeling of too dry cereal stuck on my palate, I abandoned this option. It was then that my eyes fell on the waffle iron that my mother had bequeathed to me before I left. It sat enthroned, alone on the work surface, since I hadn’t found a place for it yet. Knowing that I was the lucky owner of a bag of sandwich bread and cheese, my brain associated them with the lovesick pack of ham. So it would be a toasted ham and cheese sandwich for me tonight! Nothing better than some simple food for this first solo evening.

I’m busy preparing the sandwiches. Which didn’t take me long, let’s be honest. Especially since I made the basic version – or lazy – without sauce. I put the two sandwiches in the device and closed the hood. While waiting for them to cook, I took what I needed to set the table on the small bar in the kitchen. Since I had no reason to eat on the couch, having no TV, I might as well settle down.

I had barely taken out a bottle of water from the fridge when several things happened almost simultaneously. I inhaled the smell of burnt plastic, and when that information was processed by my left hemisphere, I immediately looked at the waffle maker. Black smoke, like that of a failed conclave, escaped from it. But before I could do anything, the lights went out.

Great. I had tripped the fuses.

Of course, I didn’t have a flashlight. No big deal, the creators of mobile phone applications had thought of us. It was enough to use the app, which was fine. But first, the phone had to be located… without a flashlight.

It was then that the glow of the pizzeria sign no longer seemed so intrusive to me. I moved around my living room, still managing to stub my toe in the process. Besides, could someone explain to me why the pain of this tiny appendage hurts so much? I found my phone wedged between the sofa cushions, probably where I had left it during my impromptu nap.

Once the device was on, I went in search of the electrical panel. Where did the real estate agent say it was again?

After looking in the obvious places: entrance, broom closet, etc., I looked in the less logical places: bathroom, bedroom... Then, an idea came to my mind: what if it was on the landing? I then opened the front door; the hallway was also plunged into darkness. A noise to my left startled me. It was the door to the apartment next door. Great! I was going to meet my neighbours. Perhaps they could tell me where that infamous electrical closet was?

A man came out. I couldn’t see much, but given his build, I was sure he was a man. Or else a very robust woman, like Brienne of Tarth. I felt for the hallway wall, looking for the light switch. Weren’t they supposed to glow in the dark, or something like that to make them easier to find?

“Don’t bother, you’ve tripped the fuses to the whole floor,” a deep voice told me, pierced with annoyance.

No, definitely not a woman’s voice.

“You... are you the neighbour?” I asked.

My question was admittedly a bit stupid; besides, he didn’t bother to answer it. I heard a metal door open. He, too, was lit up by his telephone. I saw him squat down and push a button or two in the closet. A second later, the hallway was lit up and my eyes, which were getting used to the darkness, were dazzled.

The neighbour, or so I assumed he was, stared at me with an expression that I described with one word: irritated. Great!

He was tall, rather slender, and had messy dark blond hair. He wore severe black-rimmed glasses, and his hand resting on his hip accentuated this rigid look.

“Th… thank you,” I stammered.

“Try not to blow any more fuses. As you noticed, we’re on the same network.”

“That’s weird. I need to talk to the owner about that.”

“He already knows,” he replied dryly.

“Oh…”

He turned his back, ready to go home, when I thought it might be nice of me to excuse myself by offering him a drink.

“Would you like…”

I had no chance to finish when he said to me over his shoulder without even looking back:

“I don’t have time. Because of your stupidity, I just lost several hours of work.”

He slams the door, and I stand dazed in the middle of the hallway.

Well, welcome to the building!

I returned to my apartment, closing my door as delicately as possible – it wasn’t the time for making too much noise.

My dinner was burnt, and a strong smell of rubber filled the room. I approached the object of the scandal and realised that in my haste to make the sandwiches, I had wedged the electrical power cable of the device between the plates. My dinner was good to go, and so was the waffle iron.

The Koko Krunch wasn't such a bad idea after all...