I stare up at him, shocked.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his shoulders dropping. “Just…I’m happy for you to use my mother’s design. And I’m happy to help where I can.”
“Okay,” I reply weakly.
He gently grasps my chin and tilts it upward until I’m looking into his eyes. I feel a quickening inside my chest at the intimacy of the gesture, the feeling of his forefinger and thumb pressing into my skin. I almost feel possessed by him in that moment.
“Okay?” he checks, his eyes moving between mine.
I nod, swallowing, and force myself to ask, “You’re still happy to sign a contract though, right?”
He lets go of my chin and looks off to the side.
I feel a pang of regret. “Our lawyer won’t let us proceed with the design otherwise,” I explain. “You could sue us for copyright.”
“Fine. I’ll sign your contract, but keep money out of it.”
“Okay,” I agree heavily, wishing I hadn’t had to complicate this excursion with work stuff.
He blows out a breath. When he speaks, he’s more composed. “Are you ready to see ‘humanity’s first great masterpiece’?”
“I’m ready to see a pretend version of it, yes.”
It seems to be our default setting to wind each other up.
“This is a masterpiece of humanity too,” he replies with a half smile. “It’s one of the many reasons why I’m proud of my country.”
I wait for an explanation, but he doesn’t offer one. All he says is, “You’ll see.”
The replica cave is inside a purpose-built piece of modern architecture: an enormous circle made of gray concrete that towers over us as we walk around to where the timed tours take place. When our group is called and we’re led inside, it becomes clear just what an undertaking this was. The extent of the replication is astonishing.
The real cave was occupied by humans during two different time periods—around thirty-six thousand and twenty-two thousand years ago—and rockfalls sealed up the entrance after each. The most recent discovery was in 1994 by three cave explorers who were moved to tears by what they found. More than a thousand pictures—almost half of which are animals—appear on the walls, including now-extinct species such as woolly rhinoceroses, mammoths, cave lions and cave bears that were even bigger than grizzlies. The cave floor is littered with fossilized bones and there are replica stalactites and stalagmites too.
The artists back in the day were creative with their techniques: an owl has been fashioned from the markings made by a cave bear sharpening its claws, and a reindeer’s upper body and antlers climb out of natural contours resembling legs. But the most beautiful pieces are the panels of art—huge frescos that wraparound the walls featuring realistic charcoal drawings of dozens of animals. A pride of lions hunts bison. A pair of woolly rhinoceroses butt heads. And there is one drawing of horses—each with different expressions—that I could stare at for hours.
The original explorers resisted the temptation to venture into the cave until pathways could be constructed because they didn’t want to mark their own presence alongside the footprint of a child who stared at the art by flame light over twenty thousand years ago.
Right after discovery, the cave was sealed off to the public. And that’s what makes Chauvet 2 so special. It was built in order to preserve the original for future generations.
No wonder Étienne is proud. I can’t imagine the amount of money this must have cost so that millions of people could enjoy an experience that otherwise would only be afforded to a few.
“I’m proud of your country too,” I say on our way out. “That was mind-blowing.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
I leave a beat. “I still want to see the real one though.”
He laughs. “Me too, but it’ll never happen. It’s locked up like a bank vault and guarded twenty-four seven. They don’t publicize its exact location, but it’s not far from Pont d’Arc at the entrance to Gorges de l’Ardèche. You might see it if you go kayaking.”
“Would you come with me?” I ask on impulse as we walk back to his car.
He shrugs. “Sure.”
I’m thrilled, but then it occurs to me to ask, “Actually, are there rapids? And how fast will we be going?”
“Therearesome rapids and we’ll be going very slowly if I remember how badly you paddled.”
I thump his arm.
