“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I’d have to acknowledge that he still has power over me,” I say in a cold and detached voice.
“Because he has. He has as long as you decide he hasn’t.”
The tears stop and dry on my cheeks as I distance myself from my memories.
“Everything alright in there?” asks someone from outside the door.
“Yes, sorry, I just hit my head slightly. We’ll be right back,” Jane calls behind her and lets go of me.
I stare at her.
“You lied,” I say.
“Learned from the best, didn’t I?”
A weak smile hushes over my face, and she brushes back a strand of my hair.
“You don’t have to protect me,” she says, and it is the first time I truly realize how much she knows about me already, how good she is in her profession. “Come on, let’s get you back to presentable and join them before anyone storms in here.”
We get up, and I feel jittery for a second.
I splash some water on my face and get makeup, eyeliner, and mascara from my purse. Putting on the makeup is like a mask shielding me.
“All done?” she asks when I look at myself in the mirror.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Let’s go then,” she says, unlocks the door, and opens it.
I take one deep breath with closed eyes to focus back on my role, and when I open them again, I am Louise.
“I am Amelie, but I was never allowed to be her,” I say when I pass her, putting on a smile as if nothing happened. “And you don’t have to do everything by yourself.”
She suppresses a laugh and shoots a “Don’t be ridiculous” at me, leaving me quite surprised by the subtle humor.
“Ah, there you are,” says her mother the moment we return. “Next time, please be more subtle, will you? I mean, I am all in for Jane finally doing something remotely normal, but?—“
“Mother!” says Jane, outraged.
“It is true, I thought you’d never?—“
“Mrs McKenzie,” I say in my French accent, putting an arm around her back. “Let me assure you, we will be more discreet next time, but I believe there is a celebration to start.” I point towards the end of the room where Jane’s father is walking on a small stage, and Jane’s mother hurries off.
“How do you deal with her so easily?” asks Jane.
I laugh. “I’m not emotionally attached to her,” I say and hesitate for one second, before I add, “I also grew up around all the narcissists there are, it’s like coming home.”
She smiles weakly, knowing that I have given her the courtesy of one small detail of my past.
14
JANE
PLAYLIST: POISON & WINE — THE CIVIL WARS
