Paris Summer (2 page)

Janine scrambled out of the car. M.Renaud then
handed her her baggage, slammed the door, and drove
away without waiting for Janine to say merci.
Bewildered, Janine shifted her suitcase to the other
hand and turned toward seventeen rue Bonaparte.
Obeying the instructions on the door, she pressed the
buzzer, then pushed open the door. With dismay she
realized there was no elevator. Even worse, Janine had
forgotten that in Europe the first floor is the floor
above the street. Five flights to climb! Several minutes
later, filled with very unsisterly thoughts, Janine was
ringing the bell of her sister’s apartment. Before she
realized what was happening, the door opened and
Janine found Rena’s arms around her neck. In spite of
herself, Janine grinned. Bubbling was exactly the word
for her sister. Rena grabbed the suitcase and pulled
Janine into the apartment. “Are you all right? How was
the trip? Did you like Mark? Do you like Paris? How
long are you staying? Did you have trouble finding the
apartment? Aren’t those stairs terrible? Did you see the
concierge? How is Phil? Are you still in love with him?
How is your job? Aren’t the students hard to handle?
How do you like my apartment? Let me get you a cup
of coffee. No, a pot of tea.”

Laughing, Janine sat down on the couch, which
evidently served as a spare bed. As Rena moved about
the tiny kitchen, Janine explained, “I love my job and
no, the students aren’t hard to handle once they realize
I really am their teacher and not another student. The
only thing I mind is grading papers; being a junior
college, we don’t have teaching assistants so I have to
do everything myself.”

As she waited, Janine looked around the living
room. It was dominated by a large dining-room table with matching chairs. A set of bookshelves, a large
cabinet, and the telephone table clearly came from the
same set. A small refrigerator, an armchair, and the
couch added to the sense of crowding. The building,
like most in the quarter, was an old one, and a
decorative border of plaster rosette leaves ran around
the ceiling. A large rosette filled the ceiling space over
the table. The floor was covered with what looked like
a cross between linoleum and a flat carpet. The walls
were cream color and had obviously been painted
recently. Janine smiled to herself. Rena was not the
sort of person to have trouble with landlords.

Janine could see the kitchen from where she sat. It
was little more than an alcove fitted with a tiny stove
and sink. It had two doors, one opening into the hall
and one into the living room.

After a moment, Rena came out of the kitchen.
“While the water is boiling, would you like to see the
apartment?” she asked.

The bedroom was no larger than the living room.
With the exception of an armchair and the bed, the
furniture-a bedtable, a large desk, and a long, low
cabinet came from the same set as the dining-room
table. The floor was covered with the same material as
in the living room, and the ceiling was simpler, with no
rosettes. The window matched the living-room window
and had the same sort of curtains-two layers, the first
of sheer white material. Over this was a set of heavy
curtains that could be opened to let in light or closed to
insure privacy. It seemed to be a typical French
arrangement.

“Look here,” Rena said, opening a door to reveal the
toilet. “Just like a throne. See, it’s set on a platform a
foot or so above the level of the bedroom floor.”

In another small room that opened off the bedroom,
Rena showed Janine the rest of the facilities. “It’s really
rather modern,” Rena explained. “The landlord put in
the full-size tub last year.”

The combined effect of the rooms was homey. This
surprised Janine, as nothing could have been further
from Rena’s taste. In general she preferred very
modern, very simple furnishings. “I know what you’re
thinking,” Rena said with a grin, “but apartments in
Paris are very hard to find; especially furnished
apartments. This one was a bargain and I grabbed it.
Oddly enough, I’m beginning to like it.”

“It’s nice,” Janine said. Then, surveying her sister
carefully, she demanded, “How have you been?”

“Fantastic!” Rena answered, laughing. “I’m engaged to Mark, the guy who met you at the airport.”

Janine stared at her sister in dismay. “But he’s at
least twenty-eight, and you said you hardly know any
French. How do you communicate?”

Rena laughed. “Don’t tell me he pretended to be
French and you fell for it! He’s as American as you or
me. And he’s only twenty-six, so stop worrying. He
must have been annoyed at having to meet you at the
airport.” She sighed. “But you see, I only found out
yesterday that I had gotten this interview, and I
couldn’t turn it down since I’ve got to meet a deadline
on an article on the French education system for the
New York Times. It meant missing your flight, and
Mark was the only person I could think of who could
pick you up. It was rude of him to play that trick on
you.

Janine shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. But why didn’t
you write me you were engaged?”

“Well, we haven’t set a date and we’re keeping it sort of quiet. But we do love each other. It’s just that we
don’t want our families butting in just yet. Can’t you
imagine what Mom would be like?”

Janine nodded. She could indeed imagine what their
mother would say. “Well, I’m very happy for you. And
you can trust me. I won’t tell Mom.”

“Thanks,” Rena said with relief. “But tell me, how is
Phil?”

Janine looked away. “Let’s have that pot of tea first
and then I’ll tell you.”

“Sit down. It’ll be ready in a minute.”

Janine was pensive, wondering exactly what to tell
her sister. Rena was so different; younger and livelier.
Rena had their mother’s dark hair and lovely eyes. She
had early developed the sort of figure that insures male
admirers. At twenty, Rena was often mistaken for
twentyfour. She was so different from Janine, who
looked eighteen but was actually twenty-two. She was
used to strangers assuming Rena was the older of the
two. Fair, with hazel eyes and quite tall, Janine had
developed late and even now had a figure she
considered too boyish. Unlike her sister, Janine had
never had many boy friends; partly because of looks
and partly because of her own prickliness. That’s what
made it so hard about Phil. He had seemed so
wonderful: showering her with compliments and
deferring to her preferences. And always telling her
how much he loved her! And yet, how could it have
taken her so long to realize something was wrong? How
naive of her not to guess he was married! Beth had been
the one to tell her finally. Janine was grateful, of
course, and yet she somehow found it hard to talk to
Beth after that. Janine had told Phil she knew about his
wife and he had laughed. Laughed! He had said, “So what? What difference does it make?” And when she
said that it mattered to her, Phil had called her
provincial and said he wasn’t about to make changes
for her. When she said she wouldn’t see him any more,
Phil had become abusive. Laughing, he had asked if
she really thought there was any other man who would
want her. Could Rena really understand what it was
like to be so unsure of yourself that you would almost
believe Phil? There was so much Janine needed to tell
someone about and so little she could bring herself to
say.

“Now. Here’s the tea and I’ve got a box of tissues
handy, so tell me what happened with Phil,” Rena
commanded.

Janine stared at her teacup. What could she say?
“We broke up.”

“I gathered that,” Rena said wryly, “but why? He
wanted to marry you. Was it another woman?”

Janine laughed bitterly. “You could say that-he
already had a wife. And Phil honestly expected me not
to care. He expected me to act as if I didn’t know about
her. I couldn’t, of course. So we broke up. He was
pretty bitter about it.”

Rena bit her lip. “Does Mom know yet?”

Janine shook her head. “No, but she will soon. I
mailed her a letter just before I caught my plane. I
figured she wouldn’t try to call me here. Rena, I just
couldn’t take having her say `I told you so’ or, even
worse, trying to comfort me. I .Just couldn’t stand it!”

Rena quickly set both teacups on the table and put
her arms around Janine, cradling the blonde head on
her shoulder. “Go ahead and cry. I’ve got the tissues
handy.”

It was the first time Janine had cried since she learned about Phil’s wife. At the time she had been too
shocked to cry. Twenty-two might be a little old to fall
in love for the first time and have your dreams crumble,
but it doesn’t hurt any less than at sixteen. And at any
age it hurts to discover you’ve been a fool.

Several minutes later, Rena gently reminded her
sister of the waiting tea. Grateful for her sister’s tact,
Janine reached for her cup and held it with a slightly
trembling hand. “You can stay here as long as you
like,” Rena said gently.

“A couple of months at the most,” Janine replied
ruefully, “if I want to keep my job. And I do like
teaching.”

Rena smiled. “I can spend a few days showing you
around Paris. Then I have to go to Switzerland to work
on another article. But you can stay here. I’ll only be
gone a couple of weeks. Who knows, maybe I’ll bring
back a tall blond yodeler for you!”

“I’m not quite sure I’m ready for another romance
just yet,” Janine replied, smiling. “Besides, by then I
may have snared some unsuspecting Frenchman.
Seriously, it sounds as though your writing is going
well. Are you still freelance?”

Rena nodded. “Technically I’m a stringer for the
New York Times and one or two magazines, but
basically I’m on my own. I usually choose a topic I
want to write about and then find an editor who will
buy the idea. I make enough to live on, but I’m often
broke.”

Janine grinned. No matter how much money Rena
had, it would never be enough. She simply could not
manage money. It wasn’t that Rena was extravagant.
As Janine knew, Rena didn’t own a car or believe in
taking taxis or even spend a lot of money on clothes. In fact, Janine never could figure out how Rena managed
to spend all her money, but somehow she always did.
Even as a little girl, Rena would have spent Friday’s
allowance by Monday. During the rest of the week she
would try to borrow from Janine. And yet it was Rena
who lived in Paris now and Janine who had to scrimp
and save to visit. Sometimes Janine wondered if
perhaps Rena’s way might not be more fun. Changing
the subject, Janine asked, “Have you heard from home
lately?”

“I got a letter from Mom last week. Everything
seems about the same as usual. Mom warned me not to
date just one man, then asked if Mark and I had any
wedding plans yet!” Rena concluded, shaking her
head.

Janine smiled; the words were familiar. Their
mother was anxious to see her daughters married, but
somehow their boy friends were never satisfactory. It
had become a habit with Janine and Rena to tell their
mother as little as possible about their romantic
experiences. “And Dad?” Janine asked.

“Same as always, working ten hours a day. He sends
his love and says they plan to go camping next week.
He even bought a new fishing pole. I wonder how Mom
stands these trips-I never could!”

“Unless you happened to meet a handsome young
forest ranger, of course,” Janine pointed out.

Rena grinned. “I wonder whatever became of Pete?
He used to stop by our campsite every evening and help
Mom and me build a fire before you and Dad got back
from fishing or hiking.”

“I wondered how you suddenly became so proficient
at building fires,” Janine admitted. “Good thing that
was the last camping trip you went on or we’d have found you out quickly enough. And Dad would have
been so disappointed. He thought his teaching was
finally having some effect!”

For a moment both girls were silent, thinking about
the yearly vacations. Janine took after her father: a tall,
blond engineer who loved the woods. At an early age
she had learned how to pitch a tent, bait a hook, row a
boat, and build a fire. She also shared her father’s love
for animals. Rena, like her mother, preferred soft beds
to cots or sleeping bags; a stove to a camp fire; driving
to hiking; in short, civilization to the outdoors. But
their mother loved her husband and understood his
needs. Therefore, every summer the family spent a few
weeks camping. At times she almost seemed to enjoy it.
The Halonens were happy, carefree, frivolous people
when they first met, and it was strange to see them, over
the years, settle into a pattern of quiet respectability.
Their daughters found it hard to imagine them eloping
after a three-week courtship and would have been even
more amazed to learn they had almost been divorced
a year later. Love had prevailed, however, and by the
time Janine was born they had learned how to live with
one another, growing closer over the years.

Suddenly Janine remembered Rena’s last few
letters. “Whatever happened to Pierre?” she asked.

“Pierre?”

“You only mentioned him in one letter, and that was
a couple of months ago, but at the time you seemed to
think he was pretty important.”

Rena laughed. “I remember now. He was just after
Eric and just before Juan. Pierre was very nice and I
began to think it was serious, but his family wanted him
to marry a Frenchwoman. So that was that, and he stopped dating me. Now I suppose you want to know
aboutJuan?”

“You’re darn right I do. I don’t think you even
mentioned him to me in your letters,” Janine retorted.

“Well, Juan was a Spanish teacher at Berlitz. Very
romantic; he used to come to see me every night and
often bring me flowers. But after about three weeks he
had to go back to Spain. Oddly enough, he reminded
me a little of Alex,” Rena explained.