The Man of Their Lives Page 4

  That was Grégoire, who’d opened his second-floor bedroom window above their heads.

  “Dad…” Louis said in the same tone of voice that Frédéric had used with him just a few moments before.

  Grégoire winked at his grandson and said to Louis, “Stop yelling at the boy. It doesn’t do him any good...When are we eating?”

  He slammed the window shut, while Frédéric took a step toward his father.

  “I’ll get to it, I promise.”

  “How about private lessons? Would you be okay with that? You’ve got to climb out of that hole you dug for yourself.”

  “Okay, if you want me to...”

  “Yes, I want you to. And I want you to talk to me when things aren’t going well. I want you to get your act together, but that doesn’t mean that we need to be enemies.”

  “I know, Dad... I’ll go see Capelan Monday morning.”

  “Ms. Capelan.”

  Relieved, Frédéric grabbed his father’s hand and helped him to his feet. He was frightened by these rare outbursts of anger. Louis had always been very gentle with him, even soft.

  “You didn’t tell me that you were going to my school this morning.”

  “I only learned about the appointment this morning when I opened my mail,” Louis admitted. “That woman really treated me like some kind of deadbeat father. It was no fun at all.”

  “Don’t feel bad. She looks down on everybody. But she’s not a bad teacher.”

  “And you, you’re a bad student?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  Frédéric’s honesty erased what was left of Louis’s anger. He put his arm around his son’s shoulder, feeling the urge to protect him. From what? From whom? Frédéric was in no danger. Sure, he was struggling at school, but Grégoire was right there was no need to make it such a huge deal. They’d find a way to get through it all.

  * * *

  “You’ve got to be the only person in the entire world who doesn’t know him!” Romain said with a laugh. “I have a couple of his CDs that I can play for you if you’d like.”

  He found his mother’s ignorance of pop culture amusing. She had met “a certain” Louis Neuville. She asked her son, who was a music fanatic, if he’d ever heard of him. She certainly seemed to be smitten by the man.

  Romain went over to the stereo and put in a CD.

  “It’s the score of Setting Sun. Awesome orchestration, don’t you think?”

  After a few minutes, he skipped two tracks to a particularly bold piece.

  “This is very technical, very sophisticated. And it put the movie on the map, too. In most movies, the music just underlines the story and nobody really remembers any of it. But here, if you whistle the first bars, right away you know what it is... Neuville is an ingenious musician. Remember those Chanel commercials? That was him. He’s amazing!”

  She bopped her head, won over by what she was hearing.

  “If you see him again,” Romain said, “ask him to sign this for me. I’d love to have his autograph.” He handed her the CD case.

  Despite all her efforts, she’d thought about Louis twenty times that morning. She was stunned that that she’d noticed so many details about him. His brooding and intelligent vibe, his youthful smile with the beautiful small teeth, his short brown hair, his expressive hands...In a word, charming from head to toe.

  “Well,” Romain said, “looks like Mr. Neuville made quite an impression on you!”

  Caught red-handed in her reverie, Francine sat up straight but Romain ruffled her hair affectionately.

  “Aren’t you supposed to stay away from students’ parents, Mom?”

  She sprang up and tried to wrestle him to the ground. He was ten times stronger than her and soon she called it quits. They laughed the entire time.

  “I’m meeting friends in a half hour,” Romain said. “Want me to make more coffee?”

  Though he was only sixteen, Romain looked after his mom. They were living alone in a small apartment that could’ve been spooky, but they’d fixed it up to be as cheerful as possible.

  “Are you sleeping at your dad’s tonight?” Francine asked.

  “Yes,” Romain said flatly. “But I’ll be back tomorrow morning. What are you doing tonight? Anything?”

  “No, nothing. I might catch a movie. But I have tons of papers to grade. If you want, we can do Chinese takeout tomorrow night.”

  “How about pizza instead?” he suggested, while picking up his guitar.

  She didn’t need to ask him where he was going. Every Saturday, his band rehearsed for hours in some supportive parents’ basement. Last time she’d seen them play, she’d realized that this was something serious, not merely a hobby. They all were talented and complete fanatics.

  “What does he look like?” asked Romain.

  “Who?”

  “You know who...”

  “Well, I don’t know. He’s... he’s a handsome man. That’s what you wanted me to say, right?”

  She laughed charmingly. Romain followed her to the tiny kitchen and said, “His son is full of it.”

  “You know him?”

  Romain was into science and had no reason to hang out with the literary types.

  “Both of us had our eye on the same girl at a party just before Christmas. We almost got into it.”

  “Which one did she choose ?”

  “Me.”

  “Are you talking about Élise?”

  “Yes. He was hitting on her, and then began to act like a jerk and so I confronted him and he calmed down.”

  Francine knew what that meant. Boys could be unmerciful with each other. Almost as bad as girls. She watched her son as he took the coffee mug out of the microwave. He was old enough to have sex and she wondered if he had already.

  “Have fun grading papers,” he said, giving her a pecking on the neck.

  Two seconds later, the front door slammed shut. Francine stifled a sigh. She found no pleasure in her coffee. The afternoon was going to be insufferably long, same as the evening. She could save the papers for tomorrow and phone a friend or go out shopping but she felt no excitement for anything.

  However, she enjoyed every day of freedom since she left her husband. For the last couple years, life with Antoine felt like being in prison. Each disappointment pushed her to the limit. It was a cycle of morning jogs to stay young, a beer or two in the evening to sleep like a rock, fights against the Department of Education. He was all well-worn habits, daily monotony, little fantasy, and no ambitions or dreams, except the house on the coast of Brittany that he’d bought for their “golden years.” The idea made her want to scream--the last thing she wanted to think about was retirement when sit felt like her life hadn’t really begun. She’d made a horrible mistake marrying Antoine and she couldn’t forgive herself for that or for waiting so long to accept the failure of their relationship. Had she wanted to protect Romain? Or was it simply misplaced pride?

  She’d married Antoine against the advice of everyone she knew, including her family. She was twenty years old back then, and he was thirty. She was a student, while he had the prestige of a tenured professor. But more than anything, he was her first real lover. Their lovemaking was nothing like the quickies—with lights off and awkward gestures—that she’d experienced before she met Antoine. With him, sex was a slow, careful, and beautiful affair. It was a revelation. Naive, she thought that this would last forever, but with time their sex life also became in routine. In every aspect of life, including sex, she had passions that he didn’t get. After a lot of hard work, she managed to obtain her teaching degree. She worked through school subbing in classrooms almost full-time. She was dreaming of going on to grad school, so she could become a university professor. She could picture herself giving lectures to large crowds of students in a vast auditorium at some prestigious university. Maybe later she could be a department head, a dean even. Why not? Nothing is impossible when you really want it. Ruthless, Antoine had crushed her illusions, giving her the �
��be reasonable” speech and doing nothing to support her. The day she’d felt too miserable to take it any longer, she began thinking about divorce.

  She rinsed the coffee mug, went back to the living room, and played the CD again. Louis Neuville...What was she doing imagining that a man like him would notice a woman like her? With his charm and his fame, hordes of women must swoon in his presence. She’d noticed him in the school parking lot standing next to his car quite a few times this school year. She hadn’t realizing that he was the father of one of her own students. He was exactly the type of man that made her swoon. Forty-something, elegant, a classic physique, a face with sharp features. Come to think of it, Frédéric looked like him. She didn’t make the connection until Louis walked into her classroom this morning. He was a terrifically handsome man who looked anguish by the accusation of being indifferent to his son’s problems. On the contrary, he must’ve loved his kid so much he wasn’t able to discipline him. Amazingly, he’d given her the perfect excuse to see him again. Private classes? Of course she was willing and able to give them! First of all, it was vital for Frédéric, she didn’t lie about that. Second of all, she could use the additional income. Extra work had never scared her. Most important, this was her opportunity to get close to Louis. She could try her luck... or at least imagine what might happen.

  She let herself sway to the incredibly romantic music. What kind of life had Louis Neuville lived to compose such sad music? A leitmotiv kept coming back, haunting her. Romain had praised Neuville’s music, even though he was typically restrained. It was as if he’d given his blessing for what she was about to do. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she told herself. This was true even for an obscure teacher born and raised on the coast of Brittany, something that Antoine was never able to conceive.

  * * *

  Louis lunged. The tip of his foil finally touched Frédéric’s torso. Winded, he took a step back and removed his mask. For the past twenty minutes, his son had pushed him hard, as though he’d wanted to get back at him for yesterday’s lecture. Frédéric had lunged at him again and again. Now, sweat was dripping down Louis’s temples, neck, and back, making his shirt cling to his skin. He took off his glove, ran a hand across his face and wiped the sweat.

  “I can’t keep up with you anymore,” he said.

  “That’s not true. You still got game.” The teenager was being sarcastic.

  Too much time sitting at the piano and not enough sports for sure. But the twenty-five year age difference made the contest unfair. Louis glanced at Frédéric. The kid was breathing normally and his hair wasn’t even out of place. Torn between admiration and resentment, Louis shrugged. The young male had wanted to test his old man, totally normal. In the animal world, Louis would’ve had to step aside as the leader of the pack. The idea made him smile, but right away he regained his role as a father and said, “You should practice more. You’re very good at it, you know. It’d be nice if you didn’t do everything half-assed.”

  When he was about Frédéric’s age, Louis had already won a few competitions. Fencing let him burn pent-up energy, and get away from his musical obsessions when they became too much. His music teachers all got on his case, and convinced him that he should concentrate on harmony and counterpoint instead of risking messing up his fingers on the hilt of a sword.

  “You have ten minutes to take a shower!” Alix shouted at them.

  She’d been watching them attack and parry and counter-attack while sitting in the sun on the cast-iron bench that had been painted a hundred times over the years. She smiled as her brother went by.

  “We’re not getting any younger,” he said between his teeth.

  It was a way for Louis to link his sister to his own defeat, to remind her that she was his double. He walked away quietly as Frédéric sprawled on the grass beside his aunt.

  “Were you trying to kill your old man, my love?” Alix said. “Or embarrass him?”

  “He loves to be pushed around a little. Besides, I think he needs to let off steam.”

  She threw her nephew a sideways glance and smiled. Frédéric was at once very mature and very juvenile. Very cute, also, just like Louis at age sixteen, including his thick mane of hair.

  “Are you ever going to get a haircut?” she asked.

  “What are you talking about? My hair is not that long. What do you want me to do? Go for the military look like Dad?”

  Before she could say anything, they saw Tom’s car coming up the driveway. He came to a stop near them. Slowly, Alix rose to her feet to greet him.

  “You’re right on time! Five minutes later and Laura would’ve kicked your butt.”

  “Traffic on the highway was nuts,” he mumbled.

  “Nothing is more fun than driving out of Paris on a sunny Sunday...”

  They traded those sorts of platitudes every time they saw each other as a weird way of reconnecting.

  “And is it me or do you get an inch taller every time I see you?” Tom said to Frédéric.

  They regretfully headed for the house. In the living room, Hugues and Grégoire were already serving wine and beer. The hors d’oeuvres on the coffee table soon were gone.

  “Don’t stuff your faces this way!” Laura protested. She was coming into the room with a plate of canapés that Frédéric took away from her.

  “If you knew what we eat around here during the week, you’d take pity on us,” Louis sighed.

  He was fresh out of the shower and smelled of soap. His hair was still wet and his face looked tired. His shirt and jeans, both black, made him look even slimmer.

  “So, you’re going for the Johnny Cash look this morning,” Tom laughed.

  Louis came over to shake his hand, and then sat on the arm of the couch.

  “He’s almost as big as Johnny Cash was,” Alix said. “He’s got every single director at his feet!”

  Alix was a bit worried because he’d refused to sign the contract she’d given him last night. “Soon you’ll be the best-paid composer in the business,” she added.

  “Great,” Louis said in a tone totally devoid of enthusiasm.

  “Eventually you’ll thank me!”

  “Yes, you can count on that.”

  Alix almost got angry but gave her a stare that prevented that. Louis seemed like he wanted to pick a fight and she preferred letting things go. When he was down on himself, to the point of self-loathing, he exasperated her.

  “The fact remains that money is kind of important, right?” said Tom to no one in particular with a casual wave of the hand.

  Alix knew him well enough to know that by saying that he didn’t intend to help her out but, rather, provoke Louis.

  “Alright,” Grégoire intervened. “Time for lunch. Laura is waiting for us in the dining room.”

  Grégoire always played the role of host, convinced that this was still his house. The place had been his for so long and he’d refereed arguments between his children too often to relinquish this role. He made his way to the dining room ahead of everybody else, sat at the head of the long table and told his two granddaughters to sit next to him. He was an amazing grandfather; he talked to the girls as though they were adults and they loved that.

  With the help of Frédéric, Laura brought the crab croustades from the kitchen. Louis didn’t pay attention to where he sat and wound up next to Hugues. He liked Hugues a lot. His warped sense of humor often made him laugh out loud. His brother-in-law easily integrated into the family after marrying Laura. He’d caught on that his new wife was part of a clan, and hadn’t tried to take her away from it. He was also a good father, who actively raised of Sabine and Tiphaine. And he thought it was perfectly cool for his wife to devote herself to her career. When they talked about psychology, they were always on equal footing, with an obvious mutual respect and admiration. The fact that Laura was an excellent cook was an added bonus.

  “I was watching you and your kid do your pirate impersonations this morning,” he said to Louis. “You guys were
going at it pretty hard.”

  “We both would’ve been disqualified in a real bout but it was fun. Frédéric is a heck of a fencer.”

  “He’s better on a mat than in the classroom, I suppose,” joked Hugues in a low voice.

  “If you have any tips for me, I’m all ears,” Louis responded in the same tone.

  They’d talked about Frédéric’s school troubles before, but Hugues always refused to blame the kid. “Boys will be boys,” he’d say each time.

  “Let’s eat,” Alix said, pouring two spoonful of sauce on Louis’s croustade.

  She was sitting on her brother’s right, while Tom had found a chair on the other side of the table. He’d gone to bed at five in the morning. In spite of the perfect weather and the amazing smells coming off the plate in front of him he now regretted his decision to come. Tonight he’d get to sleep with Alix, but until then he’d have to put up with everything—the pressure Alix was going to put on Louis to sign the damned contract, the endless conversations about how great a car the Alfa Romeo was, the people he’d have to call back after checking his voicemail, and the tenderness Alix would show her brother instead of him. At just this moment Alix looked his way and gave him a forced smiled, leaving him even more demoralized.

  “So,” he said to Louis louder than he’d intended, “what’re you working on these days?”

  “Nothing anyone will hear anytime soon.”

  Louis’s tone had been so trenchant that he immediately regretted it. He’d known Tom for a long time and he liked him a quite a bit. He had no reason to be rude to him, and so he added, “It’s my inspiration… Or lack thereof. I’m struggling with something…”

  “Okay, then,” Alix said, beaming. “What you need to do is tackle the score for the miniseries. You come up with a tune or two, something catchy. You can do it in no time at all—piece of cake!”

  “That’s what you think…”

  “Jesus,” Grégoire said. “Leave the man alone for a second! Why do you have to talk business at the dinner table?”

  Grégoire couldn’t help himself—he always defended whoever was being badgered.