Love Is Pink!

“And, in truth, I’m happy about that, too,” I continued. “Because a child needs a father who will take responsibility.”


Now Valentin jumped up off the couch completely. Baby growled, but he didn’t seem to hear it. “What has gotten in to you? Is this revenge for my not being able to come to France?” He awaited my response. “You’re behaving like a bourgeois wife. Even your outward appearance is completely different. You look . . .” He searched for the right description, studying me, looking like he’d bitten into something rotten. “You look ordinary. All the polish is gone. Perhaps you’re just a bit confused. I know you’ve spoken to my wife. Perhaps that threw you off track. But when you think about it calmly, you’ll see things differently. I know, my Michelle. By tomorrow, it will all be just as it was before.”

Baby growled again. This time Valentin heard it. He pointed at the dog. “And this ugly mutt, we’ll have him taken to the animal shelter. Or better yet, we’ll get him put to sleep.”

Fury rose up in me. Valentin sensed my rage and looked down.

“Do not touch Baby!” I said. “Do you hear me? Nobody touches him. And don’t come here again tomorrow. I’m not going to think anything over. My decision is made.”

“What decision?” Now Valentin was stammering.

“You know what I mean.”

Valentin flushed red. “No one has ever ended a relationship with me! If something is going to end, then I’m the one to do it! You can’t be serious about wanting to break this off.”

“But I am,” I answered plainly.

Valentin’s face took on a vicious expression, which made him appear thoroughly unattractive. “You’re aware of who owns this apartment?”

I pointed to the moving boxes. “Of course. What do you think I’m doing with these? I’m packing.”

His eyes showed wounded pride followed by a flash of triumph. “Then, unfortunately, I’ll need to inform you of another condition: you’re also losing your job as a real estate agent.”

I shrugged. “You know what, Valentin? I’m not at all bad at my profession. I’m sure I’ll find something new.”

Valentin shook his finger at me in a threatening way. “When I discovered you, you were nothing. It was I alone who cultivated you. I put an endless amount of time and effort into you before I could even allow myself to be seen in your company. And now you go back to being exactly what you were before! A cheap, ordinary nobody.”

“So you should be glad to be rid of me!” I countered.

In an attempt to answer, he opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he lowered his head, turned around, and grabbed his camel hair coat with one hand and my car keys out of a nearby bowl with the other. “You can forget that Z4 you’ve been driving! And the platinum card will be canceled immediately!” The door slammed loudly behind him.

Baby got up, yawned heartily, and looked at me with curiosity.

“We’re rid of him,” I said, and Baby wagged his tail.

At that very moment, my phone rang. It was the Hotel Grand Royal in Chamonix. My Prada bag had resurfaced and was on its way to me. The concierge was confident it would get to me by tomorrow. In return, I should now send the Swiss woman’s purse back to the hotel. Everything else would be taken care of by the Grand Royal.

I hung up. It was nice to be getting my property back. I’d had enough taken away from me recently.

One single question troubled me now: Where in the world had I left the stranger’s Prada bag?





36


We got hungry around noon. Baby nudged me numerous times with his wet nose and had a pitiful look in his eyes. With the exception of a bottle of Veuve Clicquot I’d planned to share with Valentin, my refrigerator was empty.

I briefly considered ordering sushi—as I often used to do—but then I thought about the state of my bank account, which would no longer be magically filled. And I thought about Baby, who surely did not care for seaweed and wasabi.

I vaguely remembered seeing a supermarket in the neighborhood. I put on my ski jacket and said good-bye to Baby. Not five minutes later I was standing in front of an Aldi.