Hidden in Paris

Chapter 27


Giving a bathroom break as an excuse to leave the kitchen, Annie left Mark and Lola alone and rushed to her bedroom to call Lucas. She wasn’t going to miss much. Mark seemed on his best behavior in her presence, asking only carefully crafted questions about the children, which Lola answered happily. Whatever was really on Mark’s mind was well concealed and he sounded nothing like the a-hole he had been on the phone. In her bedroom, Annie sat on her bed and dialed Lucas’ number. It was well after six p.m.

“What’s the news on Althea and Jared?” she asked right away.

Lucas answered with an injured voice. “I called about every hour, both are stable and safely hospital bound at least for the weekend. And Althea is being transferred to that service that takes care of her ... issue.”

“That’s a relief.”

“My apartment is ransacked, I have a terrible headache and I still haven’t had a chance to take a shower,” he said.

Annie smiled to herself. “Welcome to the last ten years of my life,” she said.

“I’m glad you called,” he said, “there’s been this thing on my mind, I wanted to ask you if --”

“Mark is so smooth. You’d think he’s just here on a little visit. If I did not know better, which I do because I heard with my own ears what he is capable of, I’d think Lola was a lying sac of dung. But so far he’s been entirely in control and he’s not said the least aggressive thing. I’d bet he’s waiting for the moment he can be alone with her to rip her a new one.”

“Do you believe him to be dangerous?”

“I can’t imagine he would be, unless I’m a poor judge of character. Still, you should see how much power he has over Lola.”

“Who doesn’t have power over her?” Lucas sighed.

“I’m enjoying the challenge.”

“I’m delighted you’re having such a wonderful time,” he said with defeat in his voice.

“Oh come on, how bad can it be? They’re wonderful children.”

“Yes, wonderful. And absolutely filthy. And all over my nineteenth-century Kurdish rug. They’re watching television now.”

Annie took a breath, mustering courage for what she was about to ask of him. “I really think we should keep the children away from the house. Lola and Mark need to be alone to sort things through. The kids’ presence would jeopardize any chance of an adult conversation.” On the line there was silence, then a heartbreaking moan. Annie braced herself. Of course Lucas already knew what she was about to say. “We need to find a solution for the night,” she added.

“I can’t possibly... ”

“You have to.”

“But there is no room, no beds. I can’t very well make them sleep on the floor can I? And doesn’t this man have the right to see his children?”

“He’s got no rights in my book.”

“Meanwhile, I’m being an accessory to a crime.”

She sighed, “Oh now the big words.”

“Annie,” Lucas hesitated, “I need to ask you something.”

“Besides he’ll see them. Only not tonight. Listen, I have to get back to Lola and Mark.”

“There is the possibility of my cabin in Honfleur. We could get there in about two hours by car. There are enough beds. But my car is too small. We would need your van.”

“Honfleur! The beach!” she yelped. “Oh Lucas, I could hug you right now!”

“About that, I wanted to ask you if...”

“I’ll load up the minivan and pick you and the kids up and off to Honfleur!”

“You! Pick us up?” he asked.

“So what?”

“You don’t drive anymore, remember?”

“I’ll drive the darn thing to your place, and you can do the drive to Honfleur.”

“Lola’s not coming?”

“That’s the whole point. She needs to stay and humor that Neanderthal.” She teased, “Are you worried to find yourself alone with me?”

“Alone? With five children?” Lucas said. “Let me ask you something.”

“I better pack bathing suits!”

“Annie, we’re not going anywhere until you shut up for a second and listen to me!”

She wanted to hang up while she was still ahead. “I’m all ears, she said after a long pause.”

“Did you...?” Lucas cleared his throat, “well, was last night meaningful to you?”

“Meaningful? Of course, it was meaningful,” she mumbled.

“Annie, help me out here.”

“Don’t we have the weekend to talk about this?”

“Would it be more towards the positive-meaningful, or the negative-meaningful?” Lucas asked.

Her mind went blank. She was not prepared to answer that question, any question.

“Annie?”

Her nose felt prickly. “You’re pretty cute, you know.”

“I’ll take that as a positive, then?”

She looked around the room for a Kleenex. She’d be damned if he heard her cry. “I would. Yes, definitely.”

“Are you really sure about driving the van?”

“Listen, I can drive the van, okay?”

“All right, all right. We’re waiting. Bring vast quantities of aspirin.”



The drip into her arm was gone and replaced by a small bandage. She did not feel weak anymore, but she was exhausted despite sleeping so deeply for hours that she did not even feel herself transported by ambulance from the hospital to where she was now. Althea dressed herself, stepped into the hallway, and asked for the room where she was supposed to meet Madame Defloret. She walked through several hallways, refusing to make eye contact. It was after nine p.m. and the light of the day was only now showing signs of waning. Outside, the sky had a purplish tint. Every window in this place had a metal screen over it, like a prison. She entered a room that resembled a classroom. In the center of the room, ten chairs had been arranged in a circle. Madame Defloret sat in one of the chairs. A long strand of pearls rested on her motherly bosom. “Have a seat, Althea,” she smiled. “The rest of our little group is about to arrive for our evening meeting.”

Althea wrapped her arms around her body. She instinctively searched for the way out as one by one girls and young women entered the room, all thin. Much too thin. She observed the women as they entered the bare room and sat reluctantly without acknowledging each other. Althea searched the girls’ eyes and faces for a thread of connection. But the eyes weren’t interesting in seeing and the faces were closed. What did she have in common with this punk-looking girl who wore torn black pantyhose, a bobby pin in her ear and who sat staring down at her feet, clearly resolved not to speak or listen. What did she have in common with this small girl dressed in pink jeans and pink T-shirt who looked straight in front of her with fire in her eyes, ready to kill? These girls were trapped inside themselves she could tell. She wanted to have nothing in common with them, yet she knew why she had been brought here, and that she was here for the same reason they were. They shared a single purpose, a single common obsession: food, or how to avoid it. There was no hiding it to herself anymore.

As more patients came in and filled the chairs, she realized with sadness that by entering this place, by leaving Lola, Annie, the children and their earthly preoccupations, she had left humanity behind in a way. This sisterhood was devoid of empathy or closeness. Here, it would be each woman for herself. Lola and Annie had offered her kinship at a time when she couldn’t accept it. She had also experienced being cared for and a sense of connection when she was with Jared. She would find none of it here. She was glad to know connection with other humans existed, and how good it felt. It helped to hang on to that thought as she found herself in a room full of women dead set on avoiding it. In a way, she did not belong in Annie and Lola’s life, and she did not belong with these girls either. But where did she belong? She had hoped to belong with Jared but it was all so clear now that all along he had to be on drugs to tolerate her. That thought, strangely, made her more furious than sad.

She thought of excuses to get up and leave. She understood the bars on the window all of a sudden. This was a psychiatric hospital. Surely they could not keep her here against her will. But if she left and went outside, she would be reduced to confront whatever was haunting her without help, support or guidance, just as she always had. There was no outside. Outside was a metaphor for life, and to her, inaccessible. This was a psychiatric hospital, and she, Althea, was mentally ill. She knew she could not do it alone, and for the first time in her life, she did not want to do it alone. Sitting in her chair, surrounded by women who, like her, suffered unimaginable pain, Althea made the most important decision of her life. She decided to trust she could get better. For Jared. For herself.

Madame Defloret started to speak, and Althea listened.



Lola knew that the so-called couple mediation Annie had in mind had little to do with anything other than gaining time. Neither she nor Annie knew what they were doing, and if Mark realized this, he showed no sign. Lola controlled the shaking in her voice and asked him mundane questions about his flight, and when he had arrived and where he was staying and he responded in a perfectly civil manner. They could have been two strangers meeting for the first time. Annie pretended to take notes, but clearly had no clue how to mediate a thing. As for Mark, he might have agreed to Annie being there but that did not mean he had any intention of revealing the least bit about himself or his intentions in her presence. Mark wasn’t the type to air his dirty laundry in public anyway. Anger and yelling were the only way he showed emotion, so for the time being he was careful to show none. An outburst, threats and insults would arrive all too soon but this gift of time, the knowledge that the children were away and Annie was present helped Lola gather herself.

When Annie left the two of them alone in the kitchen, they faced each other in silence. She could tell that he wanted to say something, that he was mulling it over, something he had trouble getting out. She waited. When he finally spoke, it was to say only one thing: “I missed you so much Lola.” She was too astonished to respond.

Annie came back a few minutes later and discretely put a scribbled note in her hand. “Picking up kids and Lucas with van and taking them to ocean for weekend (he-he!) if that’s ok with you??? You 2 go out to restaurant so I can pack.”

So Lola suggested that maybe she and Mark could go out and talk just the two of them. Annie made a big show of asking if she was absolutely sure that is what she wanted to do, and should she come along. Dinner in a restaurant was agreed upon.

Lola was still wearing yoga clothes, an outfit that seemed perfectly good a few hours ago. She had felt very much a woman in it. She had seduced Gunter in it, but now it felt all wrong. She asked Mark for time to change for dinner. She asked him, she realized.

Mark waited in the living room while she ran up the stairs and rummaged in her tiny closet, her cheeks burning. Mark had dropped everything and flown thousands of miles just for her, just to find her. The only decent clothes she owned were the pants and turtleneck she had not worn once since her flight to Paris. She put them on anyway. Mark liked her boobs when she wore a turtleneck. Underneath, she wore a silk camisole just in case. Mark hated waiting so she hurried to the bathroom and found all her make-up neatly arranged on the vanity. She applied mascara and peach-colored lipstick, and brushed on some powder foundation. Her confidence rose as the image in the mirror began to resemble more the Lola Mark was used to. There was a violent knock at the bathroom door.

“Open, it’s me!” Annie said.

Lola let her in, twirled, and flashed Annie her movie star smile as a joke. “What do you think?”

Annie looked indignant. “Making yourself all pretty?”

Lola frowned at Annie’s angry tone. “What’s the problem?”

“You tell me what the problem is! We just went through hours of drama, shams, schlepping of the kids, leaving Althea and Jared on their frigging deathbeds, and all this shit only to end up at a romantic dinner between you and this schmuck?”

“What do you expect me to do?”

Annie’s rage was barely contained. “Certainly not to fall back into his arms like this.”

“Annie, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to deal with him.”

Annie raised her voice, “can’t you see you have to stop trying to please everyone?”

“Shhhh...”

“I’m sick and tired of people doing what’s wrong for them.”

Lola thought of the children. She thought of Mark, who was probably in a state of advanced agitation waiting for her. She thought of the life she had here that she didn’t want to give up. She thought of the life that was waiting for her in Beverly Hills. The soulless mansion, the bleak runs to generic stores, the right shirt always at the dry cleaner. Watching her step. Watching her back. Her breathing was constricted. She felt a strange rush of energy throughout her body. “Why don’t you tell me what’s best for me then, since you have all the answers,” she said between clenched teeth.

“You don’t want to hear what I think,” Annie barked.

Lola’s pulse raced. “Try me,” she said coldly.

Annie put her hands on her hips and said, “How about you end the charade and tell him the truth. Tell him you want a divorce.”

Lola felt a heat wave engulf her. Who was Annie to give her orders on how to run her life? Who was she to talk to her as though she were a little girl? Despite herself, she raised her voice. It was entirely unlike her to raise her voice. “How can you be so sure?“

“It’s so obvious!”

“You don’t know him at all. You’re not in my shoes.”

“One life! We have one life! And if you go back with him you know what your life is going to be. It won’t change mine. You ran away from him. You disappeared. You hid for months. Can’t you remember how bad it had to be for someone like you to do something that drastic? You were in hell! Your life was horrible!”

Lola paced angrily from the tub to the door and back. It was so ridiculous, this fight in the bathroom. “No matter what, I’ll have to go back and live in the States. Otherwise, you know what he’ll do? He’ll go after the children. I kidnapped them. I could go to jail!”

“Ha! You realize that now, after all these months?”

“And the children...And Mark still loves me. He said so. He said he missed me.”

“Ha! Famous f*cking last words! He loves to own you, haven’t you noticed?”

Lola had noticed. She tried to resist the volcano brewing inside her. “No, I did not notice!”

Tears flew from Annie’s eyes. She didn’t even bother wiping them. “Fine, I’m out of here. I’m very f*cking disappointed in you.”

Lola erupted. “Stop saying f*cking! And I’m not here to make you happy! You want me to stop pleasing him so that I can please you? Trade one tyrant for another?”

Annie opened her mouth in shock. “I have zero invested interest in your decision!”

“Stop fixating on my life, okay? Why don’t you start working on yours if you’re so evolved...and leave me alone.”

“Fine! Let him use you as a rug. You love it!” Annie wiped her tears, all anger suddenly out of her voice. “Am I still taking the kids to the ocean?”

“Yes! Take them to the f*cking ocean,” Lola yelled. It felt good to yell. So good.

Annie raised an eyebrow, as though she wondered what Lola was so mad about, shrugged and left the bathroom.

Lola sat on the edge of the bathtub, shaking. Mark was still waiting downstairs. He would have to wait. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw pure rage. She barely recognized herself. Her hands were folded into tight fists. If Annie hadn’t left, she would have whacked her, she knew she would have.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Annie peeked in. “Okay, honey, keep in touch with the anger. It’s good, excellent!” and she closed the door.

So this was how it worked? Lola ran back to her room and nearly ripped her clothes off. She replaced them with an old pair of jeans and a baggy sweater. She wiped her lipstick with the back of her hand. She kept her fists tight. She was ready for Mark.



It was an eerie feeling to be walking down the steps of Annie’s house and in the streets of the sixteenth arrondissement of Paris with Mark. Her heart was beating hard. How had she managed to push away the thought of him? Now that he was here, he filled all the spaces in her head, and unfortunately, in her heart. He wore that lavender aftershave she liked so much, and that did not help. It was irrational of her, but she was just thrilled. It was as though his presence in Paris was a sign that he loved her. It wasn’t like this at all, of course, but she so badly wanted this evening to be romantic. Had he taken her in his arms, would she have buried her head in his neck, or would she have been able to resist? But Mark only walked and did not try to take her hand. Thank goodness he didn’t take her hand.

The sun was slowly setting. They walked in silence, neither of them managing small talk. They passed all the familiar shops closed for the night. She would not be able to show him the jewelry-like spread of pastries behind the window of the boulangerie, the quaint cheese shop. She longed to share the marvelous Parisian sights and experiences with him. But now, glancing at his profile, the strong angle of his jaw, watching him hurry through the streets as though lost in his thoughts, she doubted he would be the kind to enjoy Paris at all. She was catching herself remembering Mark as she wished he would be, as opposed to how he really was.

They advanced toward rue de Passy in search of a restaurant. There was the building where she taught Yoga. There was rue de l’Annonciation, where she bought peonies and fromage de chêvre. Here was the very mailbox where she dropped the postcards. Over there at the end of rue de Passy was the métro and the city beyond. Between the centuries-old buildings, the sky was deep blue with streaks of pink clouds. Mark marched without looking and she walked along without sharing, her heart tightening with each step.

As they walked, she also began to sense something different in the air that had nothing to do with Mark’s presence. The streets were unmistakably livelier than they usually were at this time on a Friday evening. The neighborhood, polished and upper class did not usually attract the kind of Parisians who party at night. But the more they advanced, the more she saw men and women, couples and groups of teenagers everywhere. Was it music she heard? There was a sense of anticipation and excitement in the air she did not recognize.

It wasn’t until they were halfway up rue de Passy that she remembered. Today was June 21st. Summer solstice. Tonight was the yearly Fête de la Musique. This also meant that tonight was the third anniversary of Johnny’s death. No wonder Annie was a basket case.

Bands were setting up, and Parisians were flocking out of buildings and onto the streets. Small crowds were beginning to gather around musicians, and many were already dancing. Was Mark noticing any of this? Paris was en fête and she was stuck with her own personal party-pooper.

They slowed their pace as they passed restaurants dressed in long white tablecloths and flickering candles on diminutive tables set right on the sidewalk. At the terraces, couples gazed at each other over stiff menus. The rainstorm of the day before and the heat of today had turned the evening warm and balmy. The quality, the texture of the air reminded her of the Hawaiian breeze of their honeymoon. They had made love on the lanai for days. They had lived naked for a week and had fed each other mango and pineapple, drunk with each other’s touch. She closed her eyes and thought she smelled the salt of an improbable ocean.

Mark came to a stop and pointed up to a restaurant sign. “What about here? Chinese?” A Chinese restaurant? In Paris? Mark always chose the restaurant, and there was a time when she would rather not have made that kind of decision. Already Mark had entered the restaurant, but she surprised herself by not following him inside. She remained standing by a table nudged between the wall and the sidewalk, a table set for two with a small bouquet of orchids in the center.

Inside, Mark was speaking to the maître d’ in a boisterous English that was clearly getting him nowhere. Lola watched him through the glass window. Had he noticed she had not followed him inside? Her body was filled with the kind of energy that could have launched a rocket, an energy that rushed through her arms and accumulated in her fisted hands. Mark finally turned to speak to her, and seeing that she wasn’t there, stormed outside. When he found her standing by the small table, he looked so flabbergasted that she almost laughed. “You’re not coming?” he asked, and there was a tinge of despair in his tone.

She waved in the direction of the white tablecloth “I want to eat right here.”

She marveled at how easy it was to state this simple fact.

Mark turned on his feet; returned inside, spoke to the same maître d’ who hurried outside with him, menus in hand. As they sat down, Mark did not seem upset, as though what had just happened was of no significance. Could it be this easy? Simply ask and you shall receive?

Mark, with much arm movement, ordered a scotch. The waiter had to be playing dumb, squinting and shaking his head emphatically in incomprehension. Lola found it very amusing to watch his Majesty Mark the Great, Ruler of All He Saw, struggle with a society for which the American’s concept of “service” is seen as humiliating subservience. Clearly, Mark had rubbed management the wrong way by bullying his way to a table. This meal would be fun to watch. Paris would chip away at Mark’s arrogance real fast. Lola couldn’t hide a smile.

“Anything you can do to help here?” said Mark, not amused.

“Bonsoir, pourrais-je avoir un whisky pour monsieur et pour moi un verre de rosé, s’il vous plait,” she said. The waiter beamed at her “bien sûr, Madame,” and left.

“I guess you speak the native dialect. You learned fast.”

“I took French for years.”

“Didn’t know that.”

“Don’t know much about me, do you?” she said, surprised at the animosity in her voice.

Mark seemed taken aback by her confrontational tone. “Please spare me the attitude,” he said.

What would Annie answer to that? Lola looked Mark straight in the eyes. “If I were you, I’d put the diplomatic gloves back on,” she said.

“Diplomatic? You’re the one who disappeared.” He paused, looked away. “You took the children with you. You left me. I think you owe me an apology,” he paused again, “and remorse. Don’t you think it would be appropriate, now that your pitbull friend is not around? And...” Mark stopped what had sounded like the introduction to one of his tirades and studied his menu. Lola didn’t respond. If it weren’t for her pitbull friend, she would have had no time to regroup and things would have taken a very different turn. Right now, she felt strong, stronger than she had ever felt. She waited for an end to Mark’s sentence, ready for a fight, but the end of the sentence did not come, and Lola wondered again about the strange discrepancy between the way Mark looked at the moment, weary, almost unassuming, and the way she knew him to be.