“Judge me all you want with your therapist once you get one. In the meantime, let me continue.”
“The green-eyed pediatrician, then?”
“Stop it! I didn’t meet Camille at the hospital.”
“‘Camille.’ Got it. So, where did you meet?”
“Do you remember the seaside town where we spent all our summers?”
“You mean where I spent my days hunting for clams in the sludgy sand, riding the merry-go-round, going on pony rides, always losing at mini-golf? The picnics Mom packed for the beach, walks by the lighthouse, the crepe stand by the port, and the games of Monopolywhen it rained? I’d have to have a pretty bad case of amnesia to forget that kind of monotony.”
“That’s not fair. You had the time of your life on those vacations.”
“Did you ever ask me, even once, if I was really having fun?”
Raymond studied his son for a moment, then continued his story.
“That’s where we met.”
“Thrilled to hear it. What’s that got to do with me?”
“Well, let’s just say that the clam hunts, the merry-go-round, the riding club, and the crepe stand all provided opportunities for us to be together. You were the pretext for all our dates.”
“You used me as a cover? That’s disgusting.”
“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter! We didn’t do anything wrong, Thomas. We loved each other from afar, for your sake. Every now and then, we would hold hands discreetly, making our hearts race. Other times, we would brush up against each other, just barely. But mostly, we exchanged glances and stories, nothing more.”
“Spare me the details!” Thomas protested.
“You’re not five years old anymore. Won’t you at least try to listen to me without making this all about you?”
“This is turning my entire world upside down. Do you want to know what I actuallydidenjoy about our summers under those depressing gray skies? Unlike the rest of the year, when your patients and your operating room took up every moment of your time, I had you to myself. We spent time together, just the two of us. So, I’m not exactly thrilled to learn that those hours you carved out for me were, in fact, just a pretext to see your mistress.”
“Camille wasn’t my mistress. She was much more than that. And did you ever ask yourself ifIwas having fun, if I was happy, or even just okay?”
“I was a kid!” Thomas cried.
“And then you grew up—and I nearly died of loneliness!”
“What about Mom?”
“It wasn’t your mother’s fault. It wasn’t mine, either. It was love at first sight, Thomas. Some things can’t be explained,” Raymond said quietly.
“And one of those things is talking to a ghost!” Thomas shouted. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to haunt whoever you like, wherever you like. All I ask is that you stay away from the foot of my bed.”
“If that’s what you want. We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow. The concert must have worn you out. It wasn’t the right time to tell you all that.”
Thomas stood up and walked to his bedroom. Before he went in, he turned back toward his father and gave him an angry look.
“We won’t talk about this tomorrow, because we’re not talking about this now. I’m simply having a nightmare that’s populated by all my anxieties: Sophie, you, making mistakes onstage at the Salle Pleyel, dirty looks from my conductor, Marcel’s disappointment. In reality, I’m still at Mom’s house, sleeping on the couch in the living room, and when I wake up, none of this will have happened. It will still be the anniversary of your death, I won’t have seen Sophie, and my concert won’t have happened yet.
“And I’ll still have only good memories of summer vacations with my father.”
4
Thomas had a hard time waking up. He opened his eyes, still heavy with sleep, and realized that his ringing phone had disturbed his dreams. He reached half-heartedly for his smartphone and looked at the screen. There was no point in rejecting the call—his mother would keep at it until he finally answered.
She poured a flood of words into his ear. Fortunately, his mother’s voice was soothing. He put the phone down on his pillow and listened, occasionally mumbling a reply.
