“About Nita.” Sophie rubs her hands together in her lap. “She’s not my aunt.”
Cecile’s eyes narrow. “But why did you—”
“She’s my mother.”
Her eyes now widen. “Why not say that?”
Sophie’s face falls, the weight of her story coming down on her. “Because it is hard to admit. I was told she had died when I was young and only just found out that she wasn’t dead . . . she just left us and came here.”
Cecile puts a hand on Sophie’s leg. “Oh, child.”
Sophie meets her eyes. “You didn’t know she had a daughter?” Her voice has hope that Nita had at least mentioned she existed.
“I’m sure whatever happened must have been hard on her too,” Cecile says.
Tears slide down Sophie’s cheeks. Cecile’s answer confirms her fears. In Nita’s new life in France, Sophie did not exist. They sit quietly, with Sophie’s sniffling the only sound, but it is not an uncomfortable silence. It is a heavy but necessary one.
Finally, she says, “It is true that my papa died. Nita’s husband. I don’t have anyone left in this world, and I need to find her.”
Cecile squeezes her hand.
“Is there anything else you can remember about her? Anything at all?” Sophie asks. “I’ve gone to the bistro where she used to work and found the apartment she moved into after staying here. All of them have been dead ends. People remember her but don’t know where she is now. Most haven’t seen her for many years, it seems.”
Cecile shakes her head. “I wish I could be of more help. We really lost touch after she moved in with her boyfriend.”
Sophie cringes and suspects she will always have that reaction when hearing Nita had a boyfriend.
Cecile takes her hand again. “I’m sorry, Sophie. No matter what you hear about her life in Paris, I’m sure it doesn’t say anything about how much she loved you.”
Sophie nods politely but is unsure.
“Actually, maybe there is one other thing you could do. There was another girl here that Nita had been friendly with. An Asian girl who bartended in the Marais. Her name was Dara or Sun or something like that. I heard she eventually took over ownership of that bar and is probably not too hard to find. Maybe she knows something more.” Cecile’s eyes shine as she recalls. “Sangdao! That’s it. Her name was Sangdao. I think we all called her Dao, though.”
Sophie perks up like a monkey around fruit. She is grateful to have another lead, no matter how tenuous it might be.
“What is the name of that place? Je vais le chercher.” I will find it, Cecile mutters to herself as she gets up and retrieves her phone. A few searches later, she says, “Le Verre Plein.”
40
NITA
1999
Before Nita knew it, a couple days had turned into two weeks. It had started off with Mathieu sleeping on the couch, as promised, but then about a week in, after they’d gone through a couple bottles of wine, he had managed to find his way back into the bedroom with her. And she had let him. She had once thought she could never get over the picture of Mathieu with that woman, but having slept with Simon somehow eased that burden. And she suspected her secret dalliance had meant much more to her than Mathieu’s had meant to him. So, when she pictured him with that woman in their bed, she replaced the image with Simon and her in his bed. Somehow that tit-for-tat logic was starting to work on her, and the pain she’d initially felt began to drift away.
Mathieu had gone back to a routine of going to the stall and was selling more paintings. She hadn’t seen him pop a pill the entire time. They smoked cigarettes, but nicotine seemed to be the only substance around their apartment these days. By their earning more money and spending less of it on drugs, the tin box in the kitchen where they kept their cash started to fill up again. Nita wanted to do everything possible to sustain this, but in the back of her mind, she often thought of Rajiv’s letter.
As she and Mathieu settled into their new routine, Nita did her best to avoid Simon but eventually could not continue to offer excuses Mathieu would believe. They were meeting Simon and ?lise for dinner because Mathieu had yet to meet her at all and had been trying to arrange this outing for several weeks.
“Well, if it isn’t the happy couple,” he said as they walked into the dark bistro on a quiet street between their apartments. He greeted ?lise with bisous. “You are the one that has stolen our dear friend’s heart.”
?lise smiled. “Not stolen, but maybe just borrowed.”
Nita tensely let Simon kiss her cheeks, trying not to think about the last time his lips had been on her.
“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you two,” Simon said, placing the napkin on his lap and making eye contact with Nita.
Mathieu motioned for the waiter. “Nita has been keeping me busy with work. Trying to make an honest man out of me.” He nudged her playfully, his eyes shimmering in the candlelight on their table.
“Is that so?” ?lise said. She looked at Nita. “You’ll have to tell me your secret to tame men so I can use it on this one too!”
Nita couldn’t hide her surprise. But Simon is already wonderful, she thought.
?lise laughed, seeing the look of discomfort on Nita’s face. “I’m only teasing. I had to import a gentleman from overseas because you Frenchmen can be so fickle with relationships.” She directed her last comment to Mathieu.
He brought his hand to his heart, feigning pain. “You quarrel with our impeccable manners and love for love? At least we know how to select a proper wine.”
They all laughed at the banter, and Nita tried to join in but was having a hard time masking her discomfort. After they placed their orders, she excused herself to go to the washroom. On her way out of the stall, she saw Simon standing by the communal sink.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“Checking on you,” he said.
She peered behind him, her anxiety rising. “What if one of them comes and sees us?”
“Then they’ll see two friends who ran into each other in the bathroom.”
Her movements around him were short and staccato, like a hummingbird flitting from flower to flower. “Simon, please.”
He held up his hands in defeat. “Just tell me he’s treating you well. I only want to know you are okay.”
“I am. But I can’t do this right now,” she said curtly before brushing past him and pasting a smile on her face while she joined Mathieu and ?lise back at the table.
That night, when she and Mathieu were at their apartment, lying in bed, Nita was the one to suggest they smoke some hashish. Mathieu raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it and pulled out a joint from the nightstand and lit it before handing it to her. She inhaled deeply, holding the smoke as if that would also hold her thoughts. She wanted to forget about Simon, and drugs and alcohol were the best ways she knew how.
Mathieu grabbed her wrist and brought her fingers that were holding the joint to his lips so that he could take a drag. He closed his eyes, a peaceful look creeping across his face. Getting high had been an indulgence since Nita had returned, and it was a delicate balance that he tried not to disturb.