trust fund.
The month the kids were gone was lonely at first. There was no one to watch I Love Lucy reruns with, but fortunately it also gave me an opportunity to abstain from peanut butter and pizza. Sam was eight, and Charlotte had just turned thirteen and we'd been having endless arguments about green nail polish and a nose pierce. To tell you the truth, by the second week of my solitude, I was beginning to enjoy it. And despite the heat, I always like New York in the summer. On weekends, everyone disappears. I go for long walks late at night, and sit for hours in freezing cold air-conditioned movies. It was also hard for me to believe that Roger had been gone for nearly two years. I no longer dreamed about him at night, I no longer ached for him, I no longer remembered quite so precisely what his body looked like. I would never have thought it possible, but I had finally stopped missing him, and his snoring, and the good times we hadn't had in ages.
The kids called from time to time, and it struck me funny when Roger asked me somewhat breathlessly how I did it, how did I put up with them day and night, and was Charlotte really serious about the nose ring. For once, much as I love Charlotte and Sam, I was happy they were with him … and Helena. Let her share her favorite blouse, her best skirt, and the “rad” silver bracelet she'll never see again. It will turn up under her bed in ten years’ time, along with her favorite handbag, and a half-used bottle of perfume. I always look under my bed first for anything that's lost now. I figured I'd let Helena figure that one out for herself. After all, taking care of his kids is part of loving Roger. Funnier still that she'd almost had her tubes tied at twenty-five, after liposuction and silicone, because she didn't want to ruin her figure, but decided to take the pill instead, Charlotte told me. Sam just thinks she's funny. By the third week, I figured she was going crazy, and sorry she ever married Roger. And I was growing nostalgic about green nail polish, and weakening about the nose ring. Fortunately, Charlotte didn't know that.
The house was awfully quiet without them. But I was still getting pedicures regularly, and wearing bright red nail polish so I could wear high-heeled sandals. I had given up dating a few months back, but not my new image. That summer, I cut my hair short. Helena was still wearing her mane like Farrah Fawcett. So be it. Roger loved it. And everything else about her.
And then, four days before the kids were due to come back, I made a decision. I had nothing else to do, no reason to wait around New York until they got back. It came to me at midnight on the fifth day of an unbelievable heat wave. I had seen every movie in town, all my friends were away, and it suddenly made sense to me to meet them in Paris. I decided to fly over on a special fare, and got a great deal for the trip back. And they made it so easy and so painless, it seemed worth it.
I made a reservation at a funny little hotel on the Left Bank, a place someone had told me about, owned by some fading French movie star who served divine food and catered to interesting and elite clients. I packed my bags before I went to bed, and flew out the next day. I arrived at Charles de Gaulle at midnight their time, on a warm summer night at the end of July, and the moment I arrived, I knew it was magic. It was the most perfect night that had ever been, in the most romantic city on the planet. The only trouble was that I was sharing it with a cabdriver who reeked of sweat, and was happily eating a raw onion. There was a certain Gallic charm to it, as long as I kept the window open. I did, but mostly so I could see the sights as we drove through Paris. The Arc de Triomphe, the Place de la Concorde, Place Vendôme … and the Pont Alexandre III as we drove toward the Left Bank, where my hotel was.
I wanted to get out and dance, to stop someone, to talk to