Happy People Read and Drink Coffee (3 page)

“I know. Me too. Every time I hear it, I think of Clara,” Felix admitted. “Come behind the counter.”

I obeyed, putting up no resistance. The smell of coffee mingled with the odor of books hit me. I took a deep breath, in spite of myself. My hand slid along the wooden bar; it was sticky. I picked up a cup; it was dirty; I took another one but that wasn't very clean either.

“Felix, you're fussier about my apartment than you are about Happy People. This is really disgusting.”

“It's because I've got too much to do—no time to play housewife,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“It's true that it's swarming with people, just like the huge crowds we used to get on our busiest days.”

He turned around to help his only customer, with whom he seemed on more than intimate terms, given the way they were ogling each other. The guy finished his drink and left with a book under his arm without bothering to pay.

“So, you're coming back to work?” Felix asked, pouring himself a drink.

“What are you talking about?”

“You've come here because you want to get back to work, right?”

“No, as you know very well. I just want to take some books with me.”

“So you're really going? But you've got time, no rush.”

“You haven't listened to a thing I've said. I'm leaving in a week; I've already signed and returned the lease agreement.”

“What lease agreement?”

“The one for the cottage I'm going to live in for the next few months.”

“Are you sure that isn't risky?”

“I'm not sure of anything; I'll see when I get there.”

We kept staring at each other.

“Diane, you can't leave me all alone here.”

“You've been working away without me for more than a year, and I'm not exactly well known for being efficient. Come on, suggest some books for me.”

With no enthusiasm whatsoever, he recommended the books he liked; I agreed without even stopping to think; I couldn't care less. I had already heard of one of them:
Tales of the City
. To my best friend, Armistead Maupin had the power to solve any problem. I knew nothing about it; I'd never read it. Felix piled the books one on top of the other on the counter. He couldn't look at me.

“I'll bring them to your place; they're heavy.”

“Thanks. I'll go now; I've got a lot to do.”

I glanced over at a little recess behind the bar. I was curious, so I walked towards it. In it stood framed photos of Colin, Clara, Felix, and me. It had been done with great care. I looked back at Felix.

“Go home now,” he said softly.

He was standing near the door; I stopped beside him, gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, and left.

“Diane! I won't be coming over tonight.”

“OK. See you tomorrow.”

“Colin!”

My heart was racing. I was sweating and feeling all around the bed. My only reply was the cold emptiness where he should have been. And yet Colin was with me, he was kissing me, his lips were nibbling at the skin on my neck and had worked their way down from behind my ear to my shoulder. His breath at the back of my neck, the words he whispered, our legs intertwined. I pushed back the sheets and stood barefoot on the parquet floor. The lights of the city lit up the apartment. The sound of the wooden floor creaking as I walked reminded me of Clara's little feet running towards the front door when she heard Colin's keys in the lock.

Every night the same ritual was repeated. We were snuggled up against each other on the sofa. Clara in her nightdress and me eager to see my husband again. I would go into the entrance hall and Colin would have just enough time to put his files down on the table before his little one would jump into his arms.

In the darkness, I followed in their footsteps, into the living room where we would all be together. Colin would come over to me, I'd take off his tie, he would kiss me, Clara would stand between us, we'd have dinner, Colin would put our daughter to sleep, and then we'd be alone together, confident in the knowledge that Clara was safely in her bed, sucking her thumb.

I realized that our apartment no longer existed; I had wanted to stay here to keep everything intact; I was wrong. No more files, no more hearing the sound of keys in the lock, no more racing around on the parquet floor. I would never come back here.

Forty-five minutes on the subway only to end up stuck at the bottom of the stairs to the exit. My legs felt heavier with each step. The cemetery entrance was right near the station, but I didn't know that. Just as I went through the gates, I told myself that I couldn't go empty-handed. I walked to the closest flower shop; there were plenty in the neighborhood.

“I'd like some flowers.”

“You're in the right place!” the florist said, smiling. “Is it for a particular occasion?”

“For over there,” I said, looking towards the cemetery.

“Do you want something traditional?”

“Just give me two roses, that's all I need.”

Surprised, she walked over to the cut flowers.

“White ones,” I said. “And don't wrap them up; I'll take them as they are.”

“But . . .”

“How much do I owe you?”

I left the money, grabbed the roses from her, and rushed out. My wild race stopped when I got to the gravel lane of the main path. I turned around and around, searching in all directions. Where were they? I went outside again and fell in a heap on the ground. I hurriedly dialed Happy People's number.

“Happy people booze it up and have sex. How can I help you?”

“Felix,” I whispered.

“Are you all right?”

“I don't know where they are, can you imagine? I can't even go and see them.”

“Who are you trying to see? I don't know what you mean. Where are you? Why are you crying?”

“I want to see Colin and Clara.”

“You're at . . . at the cemetery?”

“Yes.”

“I'm on my way; don't move.”

I'd only been to the cemetery once, the day of the funeral. I'd emphatically refused to go there afterwards.

After running away from the hospital, the day they died, I hadn't set foot there again. Both my parents and Colin looked horrified when I announced that I wouldn't be there when they put their bodies in the coffins. My in-laws left and slammed the door.

“Diane, you're going completely mad!” my mother exclaimed.

“I can't be there, Mom, it's too hard. If I watch them disappear into those boxes, that would mean it's all over.”

“Colin and Clara are dead,” she replied. “You have to accept it.”

“Be quiet! And I'm not going to the funeral, I don't want to see them go.”

I started crying again and turned my back on them.

“What?” my father spat.

“It's your duty,” my mother added. “You will go and you won't make a scene.”

“My duty? You're talking to me about duty? I couldn't give a damn about that.”

I turned angrily towards them. Rage had replaced my grief.

“Well, you do have responsibilities,” my father said, “and you will carry them out.”

“You don't give a damn about Colin, Clara, or me. All you care about is keeping up appearances, fulfilling the image of a devastated family.”

“But that's exactly what we are,” my mother retorted.

“No! The only family I've ever known, my only real family, is the one I've just lost.”

I could barely breathe anymore; my chest was heaving. I kept staring at them. Their faces contorted for a brief moment. I looked at them for some sign of remorse, but there was none. Their façade was unshakable.

“You have no right to talk to us like that,” my father replied, “We're your parents.”

“Get out!” I screamed, pointing at the door. “Get the hell out of my house!”

My father walked over to my mother, grabbed her by the arm, and led her to the door.

“Be ready on time,” she said before disappearing, “We'll come and get you.”

They returned, as mechanical and exacting as a Swiss clock. They'd listened to nothing I'd said.

In the state of exhaustion I was in, I didn't have the strength to fight. Without the slightest hint of tenderness, my mother forced me to get dressed and my father shoved me into the car. In front of the church, I broke free of them and threw myself into Felix's arms. From that moment on, I stayed with him. When the funeral cars arrived, I hid my face against his chest. Throughout the entire ceremony, he whispered in my ear, telling me about the past few days. He'd chosen the clothes they'd be buried in: Clara's Liberty dress and the soft toy he'd placed next to her, Colin's grey tie and the watch I'd given him for his thirtieth birthday. It was with Felix that I made the journey to the cemetery. I remained in the background until my parents came over to us. They held out some flowers to me.

“Felix, help her to go over there,” my father said, “She has to do it. Now isn't the time to be difficult.”

Felix squeezed my hand hard and snatched the flowers from my mother.

“Don't do it for your parents, do it for you, for Colin and Clara.”

I threw the flowers into the hole in the ground.

“I came as fast as I could,” Felix said when he found me. “Let go of the roses, you're hurting yourself.”

He crouched down beside me, opened my fingers one by one, took the roses and put them on the ground. My hands were bleeding; I hadn't even felt the stinging thorns. He put an arm around my waist and helped me stand up.

We walked through the cemetery until we came to a water fountain. He washed my hands without saying a word. He took a watering can and filled it up. He led me along by his side, knowing exactly where he was going. He let go of me and started to clean a tombstone, their tombstone, the tombstone I was seeing for the first time. I took in every detail: the color of the marble, the calligraphy used to carve their names. Colin had lived for thirty-three years and Clara hadn't even had the chance to celebrate her sixth birthday. Felix handed me the two roses.

“Talk to them.”

I put my ridiculous present on the tombstone and fell to my knees.

“Well, my loves . . . forgive me . . . I don't know what to say to you . . .”

My voice broke. I buried my face in my hands. I was cold. And hot. I was in pain.

“It's so hard. Colin, why did you take Clara with you? You had no right to leave, no right to take her with you. The only thing I hold against you is that you left me all alone. I'm lost. I should have died with you both.”

I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. I sniffled noisily.

“I just can't believe you're never coming back. I spend my whole life waiting for you. Everything is ready for you at home . . . People tell me it isn't normal. So I'm going away. You remember how you wanted to go to Ireland, Colin, and I said no; I was stupid . . . I'm going to go there for a while. I don't know where you are, the two of you, but I need you, watch over me, protect me. I love you . . .”

I closed my eyes for a few seconds. Then I got up with great difficulty; I couldn't get my balance and my head was spinning; Felix helped me steady myself. We headed for the exit without looking back and without saying a word. Before going down to the subway, Felix stopped.

“You know, until now I didn't believe you when you said you wanted to get better,” he admitted, “but what you did today proves I was wrong. I'm proud of you.”

I waited until the day before my departure to call my parents. Ever since I'd told them my decision, they hadn't stopped trying to convince me to stay. They called me every day and my answering machine worked wonderfully.

“Mom, it's Diane.”

In the background was the usual sound of the television with the volume turned up as loud as possible.

“How are you, my darling?”

“I'm ready to leave.”

“The same old song! It's your daughter, my dear, she still wants to go away.”

A chair creaked on the tiled floor and my father took the receiver.

“Listen, my girl, you're going to come and spend a few days with us and that will get you thinking straight again.”

“Dad, that wouldn't do any good. I'm leaving tomorrow. You still haven't understood that I don't want to come back and live with you. I'm a big girl and you don't live with your parents when you're thirty-two.”

“You've never known how to manage by yourself. You need someone to guide you; you're incapable of seeing a plan through. The facts speak for themselves. We supported you and if you have enough to live on now and carry through this absurd idea it's only because Colin had some foresight. So frankly, going abroad is way beyond your capabilities.”

“Thanks Dad, I didn't know I was such a ball and chain around your neck. I'll make sure to think about what you said when I need cheering up.”

“Let me speak to her,” my mother said in the background, “you're getting her back up.” She took the phone again. “Your father isn't very diplomatic, my darling, but he's right. You don't think things through. Now if Felix were going with you, we'd feel better, even if he isn't the ideal person to take care of you. Listen, we've left you alone up until now, thinking you'd get better with time. Why didn't you go and see the psychiatrist I talked to you about? It would do you good.”

“Mom, that's enough. I don't want a shrink, I don't want to live with you, and I don't want Felix to go with me. I want peace, I want to be alone, and I'm fed up with being watched over, you understand? If you want to reach me, you know my cell phone number. And please don't tell me to have a good trip.”

Eyes wide open, I stared at the ceiling. I was waiting for my alarm clock to ring. I hadn't slept all night, and the fact that I'd hung up on my parents had nothing to do with my insomnia. In a few hours I'd be getting on a plane, headed to Ireland. I had just spent my last night in our apartment, in our bed.