“Good,” Genevieve said.“Because you’re coming.”
That night at eight thirty, Grayson waited outside the Michelin-star French restaurant in the twelfth arrondissement, peering out through traffic, waiting for Genevieve’s car.Grayson himself had taken public transportation, which he was liking more and more as the days passed.He loved people watching.He loved the feeling of disappearing in a crowd.Snow fell lightly on his shoulders and melted on the fine fabric of his jacket.
Suddenly, Camille appeared at the corner, smiling happily.There was a bounce to her step and light in her eyes, as though the escape hatch to New York City had activated something in her.She kissed Grayson on the cheek and said, “Where is Mama?This is her party, no?Why is she late?”
But just then, Genevieve’s driver pulled to the curb, scurried around the car, and opened the door.Genevieve set a gorgeous heeled boot on the sidewalk and took her driver’s hand to steady herself as she got out.She was wearing a fur coat that Grayson didn’t recognize.He guessed that her new boyfriend had bought it for her.It was certainly not the kind of thing that Grayson had ever purchased for her.(She’d resented him for this, once.But it was as though any resentment they’d held for one another had melted away.)
“My darling,” Genevieve said, reaching for Camille.
Grayson didn’t know how long it had been since mother and daughter had seen one another.It broke his heart to think that Camille had been avoiding Genevieve, and that maybe that was why Genevieve had left the city for the countryside.She couldn’t take that Camille didn’t want her in her life.She couldn’t take that she’d needed Grayson to set their daughter right.
The maître d’ led the three of them to a table in the corner.The place was fine dining to the extreme: white tablecloths, flickering candles, and a five-piece string quartet.Grayson had been to thousands of restaurants just like it.Platters offered delicate foods: tiny portions of steak and salmon and quail and foie gras.Everything about Parisian fine dining was focused on details; everything was small.Grayson had often loved dining out and eavesdropping on Americans, complaining about how awful the food was or how small the portions were.Now, he found that he would miss Parisian food.He wasn’t sure when he would have it again.
When the wine arrived, an excellent Bordeaux that Grayson and Genevieve had once drunk in the city of Bordeaux itself, Genevieve raised her glass, cleared her fine throat, and said she’d like to make a toast.Grayson and Camille eyed one another, careful not to show how captivated they were with Genevieve’s swift change in personality.Her swift change of heart.
“I’d like to say,” Genevieve said, her voice wavering, “that it has been the greatest gift of my life to be Camille’s mother.”
“Mama, I’m not dying.”Camille rolled her eyes.“I’m going to Manhattan.It’s a seven-hour flight away.”
But Genevieve raised a finger to stop her.“You’re twenty-six years old, my darling.You’re old enough to make your own decisions and build your own life.Know that I think you’re brave and smart and beautiful and magical.I don’t always show this about myself.I don’t always know how to show how much I love you.”Genevieve’s eyes glinted with tears.
Grayson felt he’d never seen such a touching scene between his wife and his daughter, not since Camille was very small and tucked into her mother's arms.Even then, Genevieve had looked panicked and out of her element.But together, they’d learned how to be a family—for twenty-six years.And now, they would be a different kind of family, one forever connected, yet forging new stories and new ground.
* * *
On December 16th, Camille and Grayson woke up early and rode the train to the airport.In her pretty peacoat, clutching the handle of her expensive suitcase, Camille looked tired but dignified.Grayson caught a glance of himself in the opposite window and grimaced.He didn’t look dignified in the slightest.For a moment, he allowed himself to grieve private transportation, where you could hide yourself away from people’s prying eyes.But around them on the way to the airport, hardly anyone looked at anyone else.Everyone was half awake, preparing for their pre-Christmas flights.
At the airport, Camille and Grayson bought coffees and waited to be called.Their first-class seats were perfectly lovely, with plenty of legroom and nice flight attendants at their beck and call.Almost immediately, Grayson fell asleep and didn’t wake up till thirty minutes before the plane was set to land.Camille laughed at him from across the aisle, tucked into her own blanket, watching a television show on her screen that Grayson didn’t recognize.
“Last flight for a while, and you slept through it!”Camille teased him.
But that was fine with Grayson.Despite having flown hundreds of times, he’d never fully grappled with the concept of flight.It still terrified him.He was happy to have his feet on the ground.
From Paris, Grayson had arranged for Camille to have an apartment not far from his in Manhattan, a quaint one-bedroom from which she could start over and think.But when they got on public transit to return to the city, Camille yawned wildly and asked if she could see his apartment first.Grayson guessed that she didn’t want to be alone in a strange place.He didn’t want to be alone either.
Their flight had left at ten in the morning Paris time, which meant they staggered into Grayson’s apartment a little after noon New York time.Camille escaped to the guest bedroom to shower and change into a pair of cozy sweats, while Grayson caught up on his emails.It was only then, as he scrolled and scrolled, that he realized Camille was right.Nobody was talking about his private flight to Paris any longer.Water Works could continue.
Public opinion had a short memory.The planet did not.It remembered everything: every plastic bag tossed into the ocean and every turtle captured in a plastic ring.The earth remembered what humans forgot.
As soon as Calvin saw that Grayson was back online, he called to update him on the company’s situation.“Welcome back, man,” he said, his voice jocular and overly arrogant in Grayson’s ears.“We missed you over here!”
Grayson slid his tongue over his teeth and fantasized about a time when Calvin had been an acquaintance rather than someone so closely involved in Grayson’s dream.They couldn’t go back now.“Hey, man.How are you?”
Calvin explained what had happened with the company, how they’d bounced back from Grayson’s private flight fiasco, and which influencer they’d decided on for the upcoming commercial.It was a woman Grayson had never heard of, an influencer with three million followers.“It’s going to be great,” Calvin said.
Grayson thanked him, thinking of Will and Ella and the promises he’d made.Back in the ’90s (and into the 2000s and onward), their music had been incredibly important to Grayson, to how he saw himself in the world and how his heart had developed.He wanted to make sure that Will and Ella still understood that.He got off the phone with Calvin, took a bated breath, and dialed Will’s number.He didn’t expect him to answer as quickly as he did.
“Hey there.”Will’s voice sounded strained.It was clear that he was hurt.
“Hi,” Grayson said.“I’m sorry to call so late.I understand you spoke with my colleague about the commercial?”
“I did, yeah.I’ll be honest.I was disappointed.But I get it.You have a company to run.You have to get the message out to as many people as you can.”
Grayson guessed that Will had been practicing this narrative in his head.
Grayson decided to be more than honest with Will, to open up to him in a way he felt he couldn’t with his colleagues.He wasn’t sure why.
“It’s been a crazy time,” Grayson confessed.“I learned my daughter was really struggling over in Paris, and I had to get over there as soon as I could.Obviously you know that because my private flight was photographed and plastered all over the internet.”
