“It’s a studio. I think I’ll be okay. Wait, don’t leave yet. What did you mean when you said that our parents’ past would make ‘anything else’ too complicated?”
Thomas looked straight at her, then drew close to her and kissed her quickly.
“Good night, Manon.”
19
After going inside, Manon took a long shower that sobered her up, but didn’t soothe her migraine. It was already three o’clock in the morning on Friday.
She put on an oversize T-shirt and sat cross-legged on the rug. She stared at the box of letters for a while before finding the courage to open it. At last, she took a deep breath and lifted the lid.
Emotion overwhelmed her when she saw all the envelopes in her mother’s handwriting. She picked up the first letter addressed to Raymond.
My distant but dearest love,
It’s been a year. The apartment we moved into isn’t very big. I miss my house in France so much, though not as much as I miss you, and yet the memories feel linked. I’ve made my bedroom my refuge and filled it with the souvenirs I have left: a few photos you took one summer. I admire them as one admires a sunset, equal parts wonder and sadness to see the day end, mixed with hope that the morning will come soon.
I put my cherry bookcase in the small entryway. It holds all the books I love, books I’ve spent so many evenings with. All the stories we liked to talk about on that bench. The living room is big and bright, andthe windows look out over the bay. The timeworn furniture reflects the sunlight. I covered the couch in a colorful blanket. Do you remember it? The one you admired in the shop on La Grande Rue? The next day, I went back to buy it in secret. Sitting at my desk to write to you, I can take in the entire San Francisco Bay. The Bay Bridge and Telegraph Hill crowned with Coit Tower—such a strange name, don’t you think?—are to my right. An unusual woman had it built after her death, if you can imagine. She smoked cigars and wore long pants before it was socially acceptable. She was an incorrigible gambler and dressed like a man to get into the casinos that didn’t allow the fairer sex. An admirable woman whose courage I would love to possess. She left her fortune to the city. For years, men watched for incoming ships from the top of the tower. I’ve gone up there and watched the horizon myself. I realize nothing I’m telling you is particularly interesting, but what can I say without hurting you? Manon is getting used to her new life. I was so afraid our hurried departure would upset her. She’s already speaking English, or at least she manages quite well. She’s my confidante and my best friend, so much so that I sometimes forget to be the loving mother she needs. She’s grown so much. I already catch glimpses of the remarkable young woman she will become someday. She’s headstrong, which I try to temper as best I can, while hiding the wonder she inspires in me each day. She started dance when we got here, and her teacher tells me she’s particularly gifted. I hope she won’t want to become a ballerina, though. It’s a profession full of suffering. But if she wants to, I won’tstand in her way. Nothing can really resist her strong will and rebellious spirit.
It’s three o’clock in the afternoon—almost time to pick her up from school. The weather is lovely today. My windows are open and I can hear the cable cars clicking as they travel the city. You’re allowed to ride them standing on the outside steps. The wind lifts your hair and the feeling is intoxicating, a little like riding an old Parisian bus in the times when you could stand on the back platform.
In the evening, the smell of the tide wafts up from the ocean and carries me far away from here. I breathe in the fragrance of another sea, the one where we watched side by side as the waves crashed over the peninsula or the fishing boats came back to port in the evening.
You are the one person to whom I feel I can say anything, the one person who loves and understands me. So, I know that you’ll understand what my words aim to say, despite their clumsiness.
My love, you were my whole world. You must know that I never really left, since my memories of you are still here, like a song in my heart.
Camille
Manon folded up the letter and put it back in its envelope, then took out another.
My distant but dearest love,
I was so pleased to get your letter. I went to the post office, as I do every Thursday. Whenever I go, I feel like a spy collecting information of utmost importance. In fact, that’s close to the truth, isn’t it?But no one ever follows me. Manon is at school, and he’s always traveling.
I really don’t want to worry you, but in order for you to understand what I’m about to write, I first have to tell you that I had a little fainting spell recently. Nothing serious, I promise. You’re a doctor, and I would never lie to you. But when I passed out in the street, I thought I was dying. When I came to, I was terrified—not by how I felt, but by the idea that something might happen to me before I have a chance to say all that I must say to you.
When Manon goes to bed, the house is empty. You’re not here, you who brought me back to life ten years ago. I was a mother and nothing more, fulfilled by my daughter alone. I lived for her, and my only goal was to make her happy. My days followed her rhythm. I took her to school in the morning, and then waited to pick her up in the afternoon. We would walk home, hand in hand, and then she’d sit next to me and draw until bedtime. When school was out and the weather was good, we had picnics in the backyard. During breaks, we would often sleep in the same bed, since her father was only ever home on the weekends.
It was noon on a gorgeous summer day. The ocean was calm, and there wasn’t even the slightest breeze. Tiny waves petered out at our feet. The beach was deserted as Manon, sitting in an abandoned rowboat on the sand, tore into her sandwich.
I was reading when I heard a man’s voice behind me. “If this little girl didn’t have such a pretty mother, I would give her a serious talking to.”
I looked up and met your gaze. “Why is that?” I said, nearly furious.
“Because I spent the morning cleaning my boat and now she’s filling it with crumbs,” you replied.
You left and came back a little later with a bottle of rosé and two glasses. Your son was taking riding lessons nearby, and you suggested I enroll my daughter. You were so handsome, so tall. Your eyes had just brought the woman in me—dead for quite some time—back to life. A person doesn’t get to choose who they love.
I enrolled my daughter in riding lessons. Every day, we sat on a bench, watching our children, and you respected my silence. You were gracious enough to never tell me about your life, and I did the same. The moments we shared belonged only to the present and to us. One day, Manon came over to you and said, “I think Mom really likes you,” and I blushed.
You know the rest, my love, but I had to tell you about the wonderful gift you’ve given me. Manon has become a young woman and, thanks to you, so have I. For eternity.
It’s so hard to do the right thing.
Camille
Manon kept reading through the night, until she reached the last letter her mother had written. Then, just before going to bed, she remembered what Thomas had said. She hurried over to the bag and found the letter he’d left for her.
