"What?" I asked, wondering if I heard his statement correctly,
"Hear me out, nudity in France is not something portrayed as inherently sexual Armani, nude art is about appreciating the human body in its purest and most natural form, it’s about the kind of vulnerability one can only portray through it." Fabian explained to me, "it's different from American film."
"I see..." I replied and the look on his face suggested he wanted to say something else,
"My mom was an actress and a lot of her films had a fair amount of nudity, she'd let me watch them when I was younger but scolded me for watching them when I got older because according to herle jeune esprit est pur de choses que le plus âgé n'est pas." The young are pure of things that the older is not,
"Your mom sounds wise," I told him,
"Sometimes it's almost like she wishes I was never born." Fabian blurted out, "Shit I'm sorry I didn't mean for that to sound so dark."
"No no, it's okay you can talk to me," I assured him, and now the movie faded into the background.
"Don't get me wrong, ma maman m'aime (my mom loves me) but a part of me knows she loved her career more. And I think she misses it; the red carpets, the spotlight, and being hounded by the paparazzi. She'll never admit it of course but I've known this for a while." He explained and my heart ached at his words,
"I've never had the best relationship with my mom either, and people are always focused on the stigma surrounding strained relationships with fathers and their children but seem to neglect that the most damage is done by the ones who we’re told are supposed to love us no matter what, the ones we're told loved us at first sight, the ones who brought us into this world, our mothers." I sighed sinking into the seat,
"Armani, I don't want to bore you with my problems, today was supposed to be a fun escape, remember?" Fabian said changing the topic,
"You're not boring me Fabes, you never bore me," I assured him.
And then there was this beat of empty silence before an idea strung into my mind.
“I think that this can happen because a lot of women are told that they have to love their children no matter what, from the time they’re young they’re told that there exists this promised connection she’s supposed to immediately feel towards her child. And when that doesn’t happen, it can really affect both the mother and her child.” Fabian explicated, “We talked about this in my psychology class.”
"I have an idea, wait here for me," I told him and he looked at me like I was crazy,
"Where're you going?" He asked, "You're not abandoning me are you Nnandi?"
"Of course not, I'm not atotalasshole, but I will be leaving momentarily just give me a second, no questions asked," I promised before getting out of my seat and making my way to the front desk again.
I was met with the same weary-looking brunette who was sweeping the floor with earphones in and I tried my best to get her attention.
"Excusez moi." I called but she kept on cleaning and couldn't hear me, "Excusez moi!"
She finally heard my call and stopped the music playing in her ears and sighed heavily as though I were interrupting her. I still have no idea why the French seem to not like foreigners so much, then again if I were French I'd hate us too.
"How can I help you?" She groaned looking at the time on her watch, "it's almost my break."
"Sorry to interrupt I- uh I was just wondering if you had any old movies in the back starring Camille Lyon?" I asked and she gave me a condescending glare holding out her hand,
"Maybe, maybe not, perhaps there's something you can do to, comment dites-vous les Américains? Jog my memory." She contemplated and I knew exactly what she was referring to, I dug in my purse and handed her 20 euros which she gracefully accepted. It was probably more than she expected but she looked like she was struggling, I knew what it was like to struggle.
"Merci mademoiselle, I'll see what I can do." She thanked me with a wink.
I made my way back into the Cinema with Fabian waiting for me, I took my seat next to him and he gestured to the now empty packet of sour gummy bears.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to keep a lady waiting?" He joked and I shoved his shoulder playfully,
"Still doesn't give you the right to rob me of my candy," I replied just as the screen flickered and the movie begun to change.
"What's going on?" Fabian muttered just as the new film title appeared on the screen.
THE DAME WHO SAVED ME
Fabian almost immediately recognized the film and his eyes lit up with nothing but the purest happiness, his keen amber eyes focused on the screen and I didn’t think I'd ever seen someone so excited to watch a movie in my life.
Camille looked not that different than she did when I’d met her, except that her eyes held a little more youth and her figure was slimmer and more well-rounded, her full rose-tinted lips were rouged along with her prominent Cupid's bow and were her signature style. She spoke in an enthralling manner that demanded her audience's attention. She had a fire in her that couldn't be extinguished, not by age and not by time.
