“Has someone threatened you?”
“Not exactly ... It has to do with a contract of sorts. The details would bore you to death.”
Thomas picked up his pace to keep up with Manon, who was taking large strides.
“Do you want me to drive?”
She wasn’t listening. She was preoccupied with looking for her keys in her bag. When she finally found them, she opened the passenger door and gestured for Thomas to get in.
“Do you think it’s inappropriate?” she asked as they made their way toward the water.
“Running two red lights in a row? Not at all. It happens to the best of us.”
“Having dinner with a stranger the night after my mother’s funeral. I mean, you’re not atotalstranger, so I guess it’s okay.”
“Did you have a bad day?”
“A surprising one.”
“Good surprising or bad?”
“I’m not sure ... And I didn’t get a thing done all afternoon. So, yes, I guess you could say I had a pretty bad day.”
“Focus on the road and we’ll talk about it at dinner.”
Manon abruptly pulled off the road and parked in front of an old garrison.
“It used to be a fort,” she explained as she got out of the car. “Now these buildings are home to a museum, a theater, and an organic market. And our restaurant.”
Thomas opened the door to the restaurant and let Manon go in first. Once inside, he noticed his father sitting at the bar, winking at him. Startled, he didn’t even notice as the hostess greeted them.
“Would you rather have dinner with her?” Manon asked.
“Who?” Thomas asked, caught off guard.
“The woman at the bar. She doesn’t seem to mind you staring at her.”
Thomas headed toward their table without answering. The waiter handed them two menus, which they studied in total silence. Thomas didn’t understand a single thing written there. “Do you know what ‘chickpea hush puppies’ might involve? Or an ‘urban macro bowl’?”
Manon ordered an avocado salad with spicy tofu and Thomas followed her lead.
“When my dad died,” he said, “I told myself I wasn’t allowed to cry, not even at the funeral. Then, a few days later, I just fell apart. I understand if your mind is elsewhere. Don’t feel obligated to stay if you don’t feel like it.”
“You’re so full of contradictions,” Manon remarked.
“How do you mean?”
“On the one hand, you’re a perfect gentleman, and on the other, you’re utterly shameless.”
Thomas frowned. “Did I say something to upset you?”
“Mom always made me wear a riding helmet before getting on a pony. I felt ridiculous, because all the other kids were allowed to ride without one. A little boy in my group used to mock me, calling me ‘coconut.’ Later, that same boy gave me his crepe when my mom had forgotten her wallet. Another time, he jumped onto the sandcastle I had spent the whole afternoon building, but then the next day, he helped me build a new one. One day, while I was eating ice cream, he elbowed me, and the cone smooshed into my face, making everybody laugh—even my mother laughed at me. Then that little monster helped me up when I fell off the swings and ran to get my mom so she could take care of my knee. And while she bandaged it, he sat there and consoled me. Now, Thomas, are you going to tell me what you were doing at her funeral, and why you lied to me?”
Thomas looked straight into her eyes.
“Another summer,” he replied, “the little girl stole my blue truck and broke it on purpose. It was a gift from my father, and I really loved it. As for me, my dad always made me wear a hat in the sun, even though the other kids on the beach never did. He bought me a sailor’s cap with a yellow anchor on the brim—a source of endless humiliation. A terrible little girl, whom I nevertheless dreamed of being friends with, always made fun of it, calling me Popeye. I recognized you immediately, as soon as I saw you in the mausoleum.”
“Good for you, but you haven’t answered my question.”
