Hidden In Paris Part 25

"I was thinking," Althea paused and looked away, "maybe I need to go home."

"Sure, absolutely!" Annie sprang to her feet. "I'll take you home right now. Let's get out of this joint."

"Hospitalization is mandatory," said the nurse who was obviously a s.a.d.i.s.t and did not want to miss a second of this.

"I mean, go home, to the States."

Annie sat back down on the bed. She knew what she was going to say and knew she would regret saying it. "Your home's here," she affirmed, her voice calm, her eyes steady. "We are your family. Dysfunctional, yes, but family, nonetheless."

"I'm afraid to go back to my mother. I don't think I'll get better there."

Annie tried a joke, as she contemplated how she was essentially s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g herself up, but some things have to be done and cannot be undone and some words have to be said, and cannot be unsaid. "Well, I'm far too young, but please consider me to be your temporary dysfunctional mother."

Althea looked at her with clear eyes, eyes that were full of a certain light, a hopeful light, and said, "Thank you."

Lola knew from watching E.R. that each pa.s.sing minute could mean irreparable damage to Jared's brain. She hurried through the house, made the children's beds, picked up enough dirty socks to practically fill the diminutive machine a laver, then, armed with a bottle of Monsieur Propre, she scrubbed both bathrooms to a shine. As though she were hired help, as Mark would say. But she liked cleaning the house. Or rather she liked cleaning this house. This was a house with a soul and a spirit, not like that thing that resembled an over-decorated wedding cake and that Mark pompously called The Mansion.

After cleaning, she filled the bathtub with bubble bath and very hot water. She brought candles into the bathroom and lit them one after the other for Jared, saying a small Sanskrit prayer with each one. She placed the candles around the bathtub, the telephone on the sink, undressed and slipped into the steaming water. As she floated, she did Pranic breathing and visualized Jared's recovery by focusing on the color blue-green and sending him healing thoughts. Her hands floated to the surface. She took them out of the water and contemplated her nails now freed from the tyranny of acrylics. The sick-looking stumps at the tip of her fingers were a disagreeable memory, and now her nails were short, clean and real.

She wondered why she needed to look perfect for Mark. Was it really something he asked of her? She did not look her own idea of perfect anymore. A couple months of Annie's food and she had gained at least ten pounds-pounds her body needed so she could feel normal, and real. Real was a theme that kept coming back. Real, as opposed to perfect. Annie had helped her trim off what was left of her dyed black hair, and without the dye to give it some weight, her hair grew like hay in all directions. It was interesting how her face, sc.r.a.pped of artifice, was back to the androgynous look of her teenage years. The fine lines around her eyes and mouth were still there, but they no longer bothered her. Wrinkles added charm, that's what Annie had said. Because her face was rounder and her eyebrows were now blonde as well, her expression was softer. She looked more average maybe, but also infinitely more relaxed. There was very little of her old appearance she wanted to go back to. She liked the way she looked now. But would Mark?

It wasn't only the way she looked that had changed. It was the way she felt. In Paris, she felt more capable, more centered, stronger, independent. Maybe it had something to do with basking in s.e.xual ecstasy at the ripe age of thirty-nine with this man who had obviously descended to earth for the sole purpose of giving her pleasure. Mark would not like that either.

After her bath, she patted her body dry in the foggy bathroom, stole some of Annie's Chanel #5 creme pour le corps, the one Annie had bought the day before when all was well, when the frivolous was acceptable. She slipped into a favorite pair of lavender leggings and a matching T-shirt. Her wardrobe had narrowed down to whatever was wearable in the lotus position. She was putting on her socks when the phone rang.

"Jared's going to be fine," Annie quickly said. "I'm sorry I did not call you sooner. He's been out of the coma for the last hour, but it's been one struggle after another."

Lola felt the tension melt out of the muscles in her back. "How is he?"

"They're running some tests on him, but it all looks good so far." Annie sounded exhausted. "You won't believe this, but the question of the moment is not how is he, but how is she."

"Who?"

"Althea," Annie said weakly. "She's been hospitalized, too, one floor above Jared. I'm guessing that the emotion around Jared precipitated things. Listen," she paused before adding, "according to the doctor, Althea was on her last leg. She fainted in the street near the hospital. They said they had rarely seen such a severe case of dehydration. Besides, she is so malnourished. Lola, I..."

"It's the anorexia. This was going to happen sooner or later. We knew that."

"We didn't know that! I certainly didn't know that!" Annie cried out. "I didn't know anything about that."

"I guess I've seen anorexia at work before. There is little you can do."

"There is tons we could have done," Annie screeched, "and even more we should have done." There was a long silence on the phone. "You're right," Annie finally said. "I knew she had an eating disorder. How could I knowingly let her do this to herself?"

Lola search for soothing words. It had been a difficult morning. Annie acted tough, but she was a marshmallow. On the phone, Annie was blowing her nose.

"I've been so wrapped up in my s.h.i.t," Annie said finally.

"Think of all the things you were dealing with. Jared and Althea are adults. We'll help her. I don't know how but we'll help her and she'll be fine. I know tons of ano..."

"On the bright side," Annie interrupted, "Lucas spent the night!"

"The two of you did look highly suspicious this morning." She heard Annie giggle, and she was once again amazed at Annie's gift for joy, her ability to either swing away from negative emotions or embrace them. "How did that happen? How was it?"

"I have so much to tell you. Things are a little tense around here. Lucas just arrived. He's acting all perplexed and embarra.s.sed, and you should see me. At any rate, we've spent the whole morning running between Jared and Althea, one crisis after another, and we haven't exchanged one word about the subject."

"This is so romantic!"

"In our case, it was strictly p.o.r.nographic."

"Even better."

"I want to stay at the hospital for Althea. I told her I would."

"Not a problem. I'll pick up the kids at school at 4, and visit Althea and Jared later. I'm so excited about you and Lucas." A loud banging coming from the front door interrupted her. "Wait," she said, "someone's at the door. Are you expecting a delivery?" Lola nudged the phone between her ear and her shoulder and ran downstairs. "We'll help Jared and Althea get back on their feet, and everyone is going to be happy, you'll see." She unlocked the entrance door with two hands with the phone tight against her cheek. "Now it's your turn to describe your wild night," she said chuckling while pulling hard for the front door to open. "How did you finally..." Lola faced the open front door, and her body turned to granite.

Annie's voice echoed in her ear. "Lola?"

But Lola could not speak. She heard the faint "Lola? What's going on?" coming from Annie at the end of the line. Lola managed to articulate "I...I have to go."

On the phone Annie screeched. "What's going on? Who's at the frigging door? Talk to me!"

Lola had forgotten how tall he was, how she needed to look up when she faced him. "Annie... It's my husband." She said. "Mark. He's here... Mark.... How did you...? Annie, I have to go," she stammered before hanging up.

Jared attempted to lift his arm, but it was strapped to the IV so he brought it down. His voice was weak. Lucas had to lean toward him to hear what he was trying to explain. "One thing led to another," Jared said.

Lucas decided to ask. "Did you mean to do this?"

"What?"

"To overdose, Jared. Did you mean to kill yourself?"

"I was having a bad day."

"A bad day!" Lucas blurted out, and Jared closed his eyes. Lucas softened his voice to a whisper. "What happened exactly?"

"Well, I had this...thing with Althea, and I drank a lot of booze on top of some c.o.ke and then some other stuff that kind of landed in front of me. I usually know my limits. I f.u.c.ked up."

"Who got you into drugs? Althea?"

"Believe me, I don't need anyone's help to get into trouble."

"But why?"

"You know how it goes."

"No, I have no idea how it goes, Jared." Lucas rubbed his eyes. "Tell me."

"After Mom died. It was part of a learning curve, I guess. I'm not a junky."

Lucas's throat tightened. "This is not what your mother would have wanted."

"Mom's dead." Jared looked away. "That's as definitive as it gets. It's my own business. I didn't bother anyone."

He squeezed Jared's arm. "Well, it's bothering plenty of people now. You could have died."

"Look, not that I want to die, but what's the difference to anyone if I die now or later?"

"Your father died early, and I think it made a great deal of difference to everyone who loved him and depended on him."

Jared remained silent, and neither one of them spoke for a while. Lucas could not bring himself to mention how this affected him personally. And it would have been bad form to point out that it could not have been worse timing. Lucas's shoulders stooped. There had been no time to speak to Annie about their night together, and he had the feeling that Annie was trying to avoid him. "And Jared, this is already having a s...o...b..ll effect. Althea is... ill right now. Listen, I hate to tell you this, but she fainted in the street. She's in the emergency room downstairs."

Jared tightened his fist but was too weak to move another muscle. "What happened?" he asked softly.

Lucas did not want to get into it. "It's...unclear. We're still waiting to hear."

"Look," Jared said, "I'm not addicted."

"Not yet."

"That's right. Not yet."

Lucas felt overwhelmed with sadness. "I'll help you out, Jared. You know I will."

"Thanks. I know."

Annie peeked her head inside the room and coughed. "Lucas, may I borrow you?"

"Is Althea okay?" Jared said feebly. He looked ashen.

"She's stable. They gave her something to sleep while they pump her with fluid and stuff. Things her body needs. She's okay for now. Lucas, do you mind coming out for a minute?"

Once in the hallway, she whispered frantically "You won't believe this. The s.h.i.t is totally hitting the fan! Lola's husband just showed up at the house!

Lucas raised an approving eyebrow. "At last! What took him so long?"

"What could you possibly mean? It's total chaos! She can't fight him alone. She's got as much defense as a newborn kitten. I have to rush to the house right now. Can you keep an eye on Jared and Althea? I'll go home and see if Lola needs my help, and..." Annie's eyes widened. "The kids! The last thing we need is to add children to the equation."

Lucas looked at her, waiting for a rest of the sentence. Then it dawned on him. "What do you need me to do?" he said in resignation.

"Pick up the kids at school at four, and then walk to the daycare, the kids will tell you where it is, and get Simon. And no matter what, don't bring them home."

"Vraiment? And where do you suppose I should take them?"

"I dunno. Your place?"

"All five of them? Je ne peux pas." Discouragement must have showed on his face because Annie planted her eyes right on his.

"You owe it to me," she whispered. "Didn't I just give you the most memorable s.e.x of your life?" She beamed at him.

"Wait a minute," Lucas's spirit soared. He tried to sound extremely offended. "I thought I gave you the best..."

But already she was running away.

Chapter 26.

At the door, Mark wasn't exactly smiling, but he did not look angry. He was closely shaven and dressed with extreme care. Did he just bring his small Hermes bag neatly stored in the overhead compartment of his first-cla.s.s direct flight? Did he already have their flight booked for the way back? Was he planning on taking the children only and leaving her in Paris? She instinctively searched his jaw for tension, his eyes for the cold light of controlled anger, but instead found in his expression a weariness she wasn't familiar with and a.s.sumed must be jet lag. Strangely, he looked glad to see her rather than victorious. Her heart was in her throat.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" Mark said. This wasn't a question. Lola moved slowly away from the door to let him in. The absurdity of her situation was so apparent to her now. She had imagined in minute details how Mark would be searching for her, yet had not for an instant prepared herself for the moment he would find her.

She followed him into the house, her mind blank. He stood in the hallway, looked at the collection of small antique mirrors of all sorts and shapes and at the yellow walls stenciled with naive suns. He waited until it occurred to her to guide him into the living room. She instantaneously began seeing the house through his eyes. The living room was too dark, too heavy with antique furniture and velvet curtains, too provincial French. "Can I give you something to drink?" she asked. Whether he asked for a drink, and the type of drink, the tone of his voice, all were subtle signs she was desperately seeking to read. She searched the walls for traces of Annie's strength and common sense. Hers had abandoned her.

Mark walked around the room taking his time, inspecting objects from a distance that appeared to be physical and emotional, like he was visiting a second rate museum. He did not touch anything and she was thankful for that, because she would have perceived it as an invasion of Annie's home. She wished so much she had not let him in. And it was terrible how she already felt battered by his unspoken disapproval. He turned to her and stared at her, c.o.c.ked his head with an amused expression. "You look different." This sounded neither like a criticism nor a compliment. She instantly became terribly self-conscious. "I do hope this is a wig," he said, pointing at her hair. She felt relief like cool water running though her body and smiled. This was his sense of humor. She fluffed her now blond hair. "I let it grow out. This is my real color actually."

"Who lives here?" Mark said.

"Well, there's Annie, my... good friend, and her three sons, Maxence, Paul, and--"

"Any guys living here?"

She was about to give him a convoluted answer when she remembered something Annie had said. "You don't owe him an explanation. Just remind yourself that he is the bad guy, not you." So Lola did something very out of character. She answered with a question and mirrored his tone.

"Is there a woman living in your house?"

She chose the word "your" on the spur of the moment, and it felt good. Mark ignored the question and returned to inspecting things. Her shoulders had turned as hard and heavy as stone, and her jaw felt sore from clenching it. She was able to gather enough distance from what was happening to understand that her body was awaiting the blow up. Mark had not blown up yet but he was about to, because that's what he did. Something stirred in her, indignation, determination. This was no way to live, this walking on eggsh.e.l.ls, terrified of a human ticking time bomb.

"What money have you been using?" Mark asked softly. "Nothing came out of our accounts."

On the phone with Annie, she had wanted to shout out for her friend to come to the rescue, but with Mark right in front of her, it had been impossible. So she pictured Annie in her mind for strength.

"I'm using my own savings. From before us."

"Clever girl," he said. "You had a secret account all this time? I never knew you to be secretive."

There was something different about him that she could not put her finger on. He seemed...not humble, no, not quite, but less self-a.s.sured and also less edgy. She wondered if maybe he was sick. "I guess I thought I knew you, but the joke's on me," he added.

"Do you want to sit down?" She asked and she was surprised to see him sit on the couch immediately, as though he had been waiting for permission. He crossed his legs with one foot over the knee, and spread his arms on either side of the couch. She knew his body language, had learned to read its minutest fluctuations. Mark was trying to appear relaxed in a way that screamed that he wasn't. "Okay," he said, trying to smile, "so what's the plan now that I'm here?"

She had seen him do this a hundred times-let the other person talk too much, get confused, emotional. He'd reveal nothing of himself or his desires until he was completely in control. "Information is power," he always said. She didn't have to fall into the trap. All she had to do was the opposite of what she usually did. No excuses, no glib explanations, no pitiable display of emotion. So rather than sit down, she crossed her arms and said relatively firmly and with as little feeling as possible, "You tell me what the plan is."

Mark examined Lola from head to toe with amus.e.m.e.nt. "What's wrong with the way your hair was before? Is that part of the incognito thing? Are you trying to change ident.i.ty?" he laughed a bit too loudly. She wanted to tell him that this was the real her, and that the ident.i.ty she had a.s.sumed with him was the false one. She saw him follow her gaze toward the clock. The children needed to be picked up from school in just a few hours. As on cue, Mark asked: "Where are the kids? Are they here?"