Hidden in Paris (36 page)

“Good,” Althea whispered. She was glad it was her turn to get this stranger’s attention. The nasty nurse had seemed delighted to speak to her.

The lady took Althea’s hand. “I’ll tell you what is going on, and what we suggest you do about it, and you decide if you agree to it.” Madame Defloret’s voice seemed to turn liquid. Althea felt a release of every muscle in her body. “I’m ready to go. I’m feeling just fine. I’m so sorry I...”

“You’ve been diagnosed with an acute case of Anorexia Nervosa. Are you familiar at all with what this illness signifies?”

Althea felt the distant alarm in her brain. She was in dangerous territory, but her headache was melting away, and she could only notice the wellbeing. She did not answer.

“It is a very real illness that requires treatment,” Madame Defloret continued without letting go of Althea’s hand. “For too many it is a deadly illness. Only it is considered by many as a
mental illness
. Have you been diagnosed or treated in the past? Are you receiving treatment now?”

Althea turned her face away. Mental illness? What the woman said did not matter, but the kindness of her tone made Althea’s throat tighten.

“Have you, my child?” Madame Defloret insisted. “Have you been diagnosed or treated, ever? In America maybe?”

“No...no, never. I’m all right, really. I think I can go home.”

“As far as this hospital is concerned, it would be assuming too much of a risk to let you go until you are better.”

“I feel better,” Althea answered, and she did feel wonderfully relaxed at the moment.

Madame Defloret looked straight at her. “You need to listen to this, Althea. This is a serious matter. You might not be able to assess things accurately. Your body is completely run down by this, and most likely there was a grave toll on your emotional welfare as well. In my experience, even with the best of intentions and family support, you won’t be able to overcome this on your own.”

Althea blinked, her eyes wanted to close. “On my own,” she echoed.

“I work for the eating disorder department at Sainte-Anne Hospital. We have a wonderful service that deals specifically with your kind of problem. We don’t always have spaces available, but I have a spot for you.”

Althea looked incredulously at Madame Defloret. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Do you have any questions, dear?”

Althea’s words and thoughts struggled to come out “How...do you know...for sure I have a mental...anorexia?”

“Honey, you weigh ninety pounds and measure five-foot-seven. The ratio alone is a real indication of malnutrition. When was the last time you had your period?”

“I don’t remember.”

“I’m here to help. Do you want to be helped?”

Tears swelled up in Althea from way down in her throat. “I don’t think you can help me.”

“Oh,” Madame Defloret said with a smile, “I’ve helped young women such as yourself time and time again, even some whose lives were only hanging by a thread. I absolutely can help you. But you have to want to be helped. It will be hard work, but, dear, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Althea could no longer think or speak. She only found the strength to say, “Please, yes.”

“Here is the paper you need to sign.” She placed a pen in Althea’s hand and Althea watched her hand sign on the line. In the far distance, she heard a voice. “She’s in. Let’s have her transported to Saint-Anne right away. Lucky girl.” And a moment later, Althea surrendered to sleep.

Leaning against the school gate, Lucas rubbed his chin, surprised to find it rough with beard. He had not showered, brushed his teeth or shaved since the morning before and was still wearing the same clothes. Why, he practically looked like a transient. Now that Jared’s life was no longer in danger, Lucas had returned to worrying about Annie, or Annie as she pertained to him. The last playful words exchanged as she was running out of the hospital and back home to assist Lola had only reassured him briefly. He replayed the evening and the night in his mind, going from smiling to himself to feeling despondent. And now, why was he at the children’s school taking part in the charade between Lola and her husband? Maybe he should be at the house instead to make sure things were safe. Even if Lola’s husband wasn’t violent, Annie was just as likely to escalate a confrontation.

The children came out, cutely dressed in school clothes and wearing backpacks. But the warm welcome he had expected did not happen. The children weren’t delighted to find him standing outside the school gate. Maxence looked at him accusatorily. “Why are
you
here?”

“Your mothers,” Lucas started and then cleared his throat, “are visiting Jared and Althea at the hospital.”

Maxence looked dubious. “I thought it was just Jared.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Paul said.

“It’s a complicated question and--”

“Did he shoot her?” said Laurent.

The children asked and asked, he noticed, but seldom waited for an answer. “Nothing of such a dramatic nature, I’m afraid.”

“Are they dead, though?” Paul wanted to know.

Laurent pushed him. “If they were dead, they’d be at the cemetery, not the hospital you turd-head.”

“Are they bleeding at least?” Paul asked.

Lia trailed behind. “Where are we going?”

“We’re picking up your baby brother and then to the...”

“When’s Mom coming back?”

“...park,” Lucas continued, wondering about his blood pressure.

Maxence raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? Why not the house?”

Lucas had figured out a long time ago that the boy was exceptionally sharp. “That would be because...”

Paul interrupted. “Which park?”

Laurent made an awful face and held his throat. “I’m thirsty.”

Lucas strained to continue, “...they forgot to give me the key.”

“Whatever happened to your own key?” Maxence said.

“I...misplaced it.”

“Well, that
sure
is bad luck!” Maxence exclaimed, not buying it for an instant. Before he asked another one of those disagreeably inquisitive questions, Lucas took Maxence aside. This was the best thing to do, the only thing to do.

“Lia’s father has come, quite unexpectedly I’m afraid, and there needs to be some grown-up discussion before...”

Maxence nodded knowingly. “We’re in hiding then?”

“Well... we... but... In a way...”

Maxence patted Lucas on the arm. “Don’t worry, man. I’ll cover for you.”

The group walked gingerly to Simon’s daycare and Lucas decided that his fear had been just plain silly. At the daycare, Simon was busy at work with Legos and did not want to leave. Finally he got up from the rug and followed them. But as soon as they were outside, Simon stalled.

“What is it now, small one?” Lucas asked him.

Lia shrugged. “He hates to walk.”

“You could just carry him,” Laurent instructed. Lucas lifted Simon up onto his shoulders. The child was light but strangled him with his powerful little arms.

There were too many of them, so a taxi was out of the question. Strong from his morning experience, Lucas decided he would take the children on the métro. He was a bit miffed when the kids casually took passes from their pockets and entered the station as easily as he would have entered Fauchon. Lucas studied the map and came up with an itinerary. They would have to change trains three times, but to get to Buttes Chaumont would present the advantage of being near the park and steps away from his apartment. They rode the métro from La Muette to Buttes Chaumont. At each métro change, Lucas lifted Simon onto his shoulders and huffed and puffed to the next train, the children complaining of thirst, heat and hunger the entire time.

When they finally got out of the métro, Laurent said, “How come we didn’t take the métro at Passy? We would have had to change only once.” Lucas planted his gaze on the child and wondered if he should put his own understanding of the world into question. As they climbed up the steps out of the subway and toward the street, he nudged Simon. “Come on, little one. You can walk. I’ve seen you do it plenty of times.”

“Mamma,” Simon began wailing.

“How does your mother do this?” he asked Lia. “This gigantic baby must weigh over fifteen kilos!”

“Mom?” Lia said. “She doesn’t carry him like that.”

“She takes the stroller,” Paul added.

“What stroller?” Lucas heard himself wail. “Where is it?”

“At the daycare,” Laurent answered.

Lucas wailed, “Should you not have told me about the stroller?”

Lia just shrugged as if to say, “
What is the problem with you
?”

At the park, Lucas was desperate to rest on a bench, but the children saw the ice cream vendor. From there on, things worsened. Lucas purchased five ice creams, but by the time the last child was served, the other four were a mess. The ice cream melted faster than they could eat it, and already their clothes and faces were smeared in horrible ways. Lucas made a silent prayer that Annie would call him and that he would not have to bring them up to his apartment. The playground was shaded and Lucas moaned with relief when he finally sat on the bench.

“All right now. You can play,” he said and waved in the direction of the jungle gym.

Lia planted herself in front of him.

“I need to pee.”

The bathroom was within eye distance. He pointed to it.

“Mom takes me into public bathrooms,” Lia told him, making a face.

Indeed, the toilets of public parks had to be squalid, and what about the strange people that might be lurking around. But how could he take one child to the toilet and leave the other four unsupervised. The boys were busy amusing themselves with fighting other children on the playground. They called it play, but it was more like war. Youngsters could be remarkably aggressive, Lucas noticed, but he also noticed with contentment, and maybe a hint of pride, how his children formed a tight little clan against the others.

Lucas turned to a mother on a nearby bench who had heaven knew how many children of her own. “Would you mind keeping an eye on those boys there?” He pointed to Lia. “This little lady needs to use the restroom.”

He stood with great discomfort at the door of the girl’s bathroom. “The lock is broken,” he apologized to the mother and daughter waiting in line behind him.

Lia’s voice came out of the stall. “There is no paaa-per! Can you hand me a Kleenex?”

“Dear,” Lucas whispered, “I do not carry such things.”

The woman behind him laughed and produced Kleenexes from her purse as though she were some kind of genius. Lucas thanked her as graciously as he could, considering he felt like clubbing her over the head. But already, on the playground, the woman allegedly supervising his children was yelling at Paul for hitting one of her brats with a plastic shovel.

It was getting late. Annie had not called him and he knew better than to call her. How he was ready to bring the children back to their house. To hell with keeping them! But the thought of taking the métro again was more than he could bear. Of course his own apartment was five minutes away, but the thought of five children with shoes filled with sand and hands sticky with ice cream residue all over his Persian rugs made him shudder.

The children, sensing his weakness, began making demands.

“We’re hungry!”

“You just had ice cream.”

Laurent shrugged. “Ice cream doesn’t fill you up.”

“It’s just sugar. Empty calories,” Lia added.

“Empty?” Lucas echoed.

“I have an idea. You go get the food,” Maxence suggested. “We’ll stay here and play.”

“I regret, but this will not be possible.”

Laurent pointed an ice cream smeared finger toward a yellow arch Lucas had never noticed in the past. “McDonald’s is right there,” he said.

“Me want chicken nuggets,” Simon blurted out, followed by frantic orders from every kid:

“I want a Whooper.”

“They don’t do Whoppers dumbass.”

“Can I have a toy with my happy meal?”

Lucas stopped them by raising both palms. “Let me make something clear,” he said, “I refuse to set a foot in that horrible place.”

“You never had MacDo?” Maxence was flabbergasted.

“Never have, never will. Not only is it rubbish, but it is the symbol of American imperialism.”

“What?”

“France is the world’s capital of gastronomy, so why ingest the worst that the world has to offer?”

“How do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never had it?

“You’re like Sam I Am.”

The children explained that it was an American joke about eating green eggs.

“But it’s sooo good.”

“But we’re really, really hungry.”

Lucas discovered he was walking on the edge of the razorblade too late. “
No McDonald’s! Never!
” He yelled.

The playground turned silent. Birds stopped chirping, dogs quit barking, and mothers and children froze. Everyone was staring at him as though he were a child abuser. Lucas hurried the children out of the playground. He felt quite famished himself. With the circus at the hospital, he’d had neither the time nor the enthusiasm for breakfast or lunch. He, too, needed to go to the bathroom but he could no longer ask those hostile mothers for favors. He resigned himself to bringing everyone to his apartment. He would make some pasta; maybe he had enough for a salad. He hoisted Simon on his shoulders, and now was also carrying Lia and Paul’s backpacks. He was fuming. The children could see he meant business and cooperated. But they all came to a stop in front of McDonald’s, jumping up and down, begging and claiming starvation. The fact was, he was starving. Really starving. He had not eaten a thing in nearly twenty-four hours.