Authors: Roger Barry
‘Well, this is where I live’ she said, gesturing to an apartment above. ‘I’d invite you in, but my aunt may not take kindly to a strange man appearing at her door’.
‘I understand’ answered Josh, an almost impermeable look of disappointment shadowing his features. ‘Can I see you again?’
‘Why yes, of course, that would be nice’
He extend his hand, but she ignored it, instead taking him by the shoulders and planting a kiss on each cheek in turn, before turning on her heel and walking inside. Her scent lingered long after she had left. Josh didn’t want to move, because moving would mean moving away from her fragrance. He wished he could just stay there, in front of that dark blue door, until Ella appeared again. Finally he turned and continued walking down the street, a broad smile on his face, before having to stop at the next junction and ask directions when he realised he had no idea where he was.
Over the next couple of weeks, they began to see each other more and more. As Josh’s main subject was photographing Paris society, he generally worked what would be considered unsociable hours. Ella also had a fragmented and erratic work schedule, but the desire to meet up was there, and so they did. One balmy late spring afternoon, as they sat in a small sidewalk café, Ella turned to Josh.
‘You know, we’ve been seeing each other for weeks now. You know where I live, where I work, but I know little about you. I know you take pictures of social events, ceremonies, and all that, but I don’t have an idea where you live’.
‘I live in a loft apartment at 16 Rue de Georges’.
‘Oh’
‘Would you like to see it?’
‘Ok’,
‘What time do you start work?’
‘I don’t. I opened up this morning and worked ‘till twelve, and considering I closed up last night, I think I’m entitled to having the rest of the day off. You?’
‘I’m free also. Tonight is a very quiet evening as far as Paris society goes. Even serial partygoers have to have the occasional break I suppose’.
They left the café shortly after, Josh leading the way as they held hands strolling through cobbled streets, stopping at the occasional shop to glance at its window, before finally coming to a halt at the entrance to 16 Rue de Georges.
‘Well, here we are, this is it. Are you sure you want to come up?’
‘I said so didn’t I? Unless of course you have something to hide up there’.
‘Like what?’
‘A wife and a couple of screaming infants perhaps?’
‘Nah, I sent those away for a couple of days. A sink full of dirty dishes, now that’s another matter.’
‘Dirty dishes I can handle, I work in a café, remember?’
‘Oh ok, well then, let’s go’.
They entered the dark hallway, Josh stopping to gather mail from his post box, before they began climbing the winding staircase. When they reached the top, Josh opened the door and they entered the studio apartment, as he dropped his keys and mail on a small occasional table in the hallway.
‘Well, here we are, home sweet home’ he said, sweeping his arm majestically around the small studio. Ella’s eyes began to study the room, which didn’t take long, given its size. It was a typical man cave, clothes strewn about, books balanced precariously in piles, and yes she observed, there was indeed a sink full of unwashed dishes. Josh followed her gaze in the direction of the sink.
‘Oh shit, I forgot there really was a sink full of dishes’ he mumbled, slightly embarrassed, ‘I’ll sort those out in a minute’.
Ella just gave a knowing smile.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ he asked.
‘Sure, why not’ she answered, ‘presuming you can find a clean cup, that is. Should I have brought my own maybe?’
‘Er, probably’ he answered, only half joking. ‘No, it’s fine, just give me a minute or two. Have yourself a tour while you’re waiting, just make sure you don’t get lost’.
‘Well considering your apartment consists of one room, that might prove a bit difficult’ she answered as she began exploring. On a dresser to one side stood a huge pile of photographs.
‘Mind if I have a look?’ Asked Ella, gesturing to the pile.
‘Help yourself’ he answered, ‘but if you come across any wife and kids pictures, just ignore them’.
Ella took a large bundle of photographs over to the only part of the room that had space to sit down comfortably, the bed.
‘I can see why you live here, small and cramped as it is, the light’s amazing’.
This was true, thought Josh. With two bay windows to one side and a large skylight overhead, it certainly made it easy to sift through photos and negatives.
She began to peruse the bundle. She stopped as she came to a group of war images.
Josh brought over the two coffees, placed them on a small bedside locker, and sat beside her.
‘How come you never talk about the war?’ she asked.
‘What’s there to say?’ he answered. ‘War turns everything on its head, and logic goes out the window. If I kill someone in peacetime, I’m a murderer. If I kill fifty people in wartime, I’m a hero. Go figure, if you can.’
‘Have you ever killed anyone?’ she asked softly.
‘You do what you have to do’ he answered simply.
He looked troubled. Ella realised she’d opened the door to a room Josh had no desire to enter. She kissed him gently on the neck, soothingly moving slowly up, kissing him all the while, until she reached his ear, and whispered softly.
‘I’m sorry, the mouth engages before the brain sometimes. Let’s move on to other things’.
She turned his head round to face her and their mouths engaged, gently probing, tasting, tongues exploring, getting more intense with each movement. They were lying on the bed now, their hands touching and feeling and exploring each other’s bodies, becoming more frantic as hands slipped beneath clothing and undergarments to caress naked flesh, removing each item that stood in the way of their bodies connecting and becoming as one, moving in unison now as they worked into a rhythm, getting more and more frantic with each thrust, then suddenly ceasing as if suspended in mid air for a moment, before emitting a loud groan and a shuddering sigh, collapsing in a heap of sweating, intertwined flesh. Josh rolled over, breathing deeply, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing, before turning back to Ella, kissing her gently on the lips while moving her now matted hair from her forehead with one finger. They lay entwined for a time, Ella studying the effect of the dying shafts of late evening sun as it gradually gave everything pale in the room a golden hue. She could hear the sounds resonating from the cafés below, greetings, laughter, the clinking of teaspoons on saucers, and the occasional putt, putt of a Vespa scooter as it navigated through the winding streets. After they lay awhile, Ella sat up and began drinking her forgotten cup of coffee. Josh jumped from the bed.
‘Don’t drink that, it’ll be cold by now. Hang on a minute and I’ll do a fresh pot.
Still naked, he walked to the kitchen area and began filling a kettle. Ella smiled to herself.
Men are so practical after making love,
she thought,
always looking for something useful to do. It’s as if a switch flicks inside their head.
After putting on the kettle, Josh moved to the small hall table, absently sifting through the post. Suddenly he stopped. Ella noticed, got out of bed and walked to his side.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
He didn’t answer, but instead slowly opened the envelope which had captured his attention. He removed a single sheet of paper, scanning it quickly at first, before reading it again, more thoroughly.
All Ella could see was a sheet of official headed notepaper.
‘What is it?’ she repeated softly.
‘I have to go’ said Josh, holding the page out for her to see, ‘my mother has just died’
Ella awoke with a start, jumped from her bed and just made it to the bathroom before throwing up. Again. This was the second day in a row she had awoken like this. On the first day she thought that it may have been something she had eaten, but this morning, sitting on the bathroom floor with her head in her hands, staring into that white bowl, she was beginning to think otherwise.
How long has Josh been gone, how long has it been since ‘that day’? Six weeks? Seven?
Ella was unsure, the nausea impairing her ability to recollect accurately.
This does not look good.
Josh had promised to write as soon as he could, but so far, nothing. He had left her the keys to his apartment, but she hadn’t returned there since he’d left so abruptly. Ella knew it would take time for him to sort out affairs back home, probably a week or more, but seven weeks? Her mind had cleared a little as the nausea subsided, and yes, it was seven weeks, she was sure of that now. She wasn’t expecting a long drawn out letter, but a card perhaps? Surely time enough to drop her a card?
This does not look good!
‘Ella, are you all right in there?’ her aunt called from outside the bathroom.
‘Yes Amelie, fine thanks, I’ll be out in a minute’
‘Shit, that’s all I need’ she whispered to herself. ‘If it’s what I think it is, she’ll know eventually, and probably a lot sooner’.
The doctor facing Ella was a genial, gray haired man in his early fifties, she guessed.
‘Well Ella, I have some good news for you’ he began, although his expression didn’t appear to have the look of someone bearing glad tidings, as his eyes glanced from her face to her hands, then swiftly back. ‘The cause of your sickness is simple. You’re pregnant’.
‘Oh’ was all Ella could muster, for he was only confirming what she already knew, or at the very least, strongly suspected.
‘And, forgive me for prying, but is the father of this child, ah…available at present?’
Ella shook her head slowly.
‘He’s in America. He had to return home due to his mother passing away. He had to attend to things over there’.
‘I see’.
After a long pause, he continued.
‘Do you expect him to return soon? Have you heard from him?’
Ella shook her head again.
‘Forgive me for prying, but I do so out of my concern for both you and your unborn child. I’m unsure of how you feel at this moment, and whether you do or do not expect the father to return. Have you considered the options you have, bearing in mind the circumstances?’
‘Well I…well no, not really if I’m honest’.
‘Have you considered, for example, the possibility of putting the child up for adaption? I am not aware of your financial status, or your family status, so I’m just trying to help you explore the possibilities, you understand. Essentially, it’s your child, and your choice, but practicalities like these have to come into play at some stage. The head and the heart will probably offer different solutions, but if the two can work in unison, so much the better. You understand that, yes?’
The leaves had long departed the trees lining Rue de la Fontaine as Ella trudged along, a small suitcase in one hand, until she came to a stop opposite Fondation d’Auteuil. She stood for a few moments, before taking a deep breath and crossing, climbing the granite steps and passing through the large mahogany doors. Inside, she was met by a solemn-faced young nun wearing a white starched Cornette who didn’t speak, just took Ella’s suitcase and led the way up a winding staircase.
‘
Well girl, this is where you pay for your sins. Nothing is free in this life. Remember that next time,
she admonished herself as she struggled up the stairs.
Amelie stood at the foot of the granite steps as Ella emerged, climbing slowly down. Ella’s eyes were a little puffed and she appeared to have been crying, Amilie noticed.
‘Well, that’s that’ she said sternly. ‘It’s for the best Ella, you know that, don’t you?’ she continued in a softer tone. ‘There’s no way we could have managed, not on what I earn. There’s no way I could have supported three mouths’.
Ella just nodded.
‘Well, how did it go? Did they tell you anything?’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Ella, ‘anything about what?
‘The child?’
‘They don’t give out any information about the child. That’s one of the conditions you must agree to on entering. You don’t see your baby, get to hold it, nor are told anything about it. You carry your child for nine months, and then pretend it never existed’ said Ella bitterly, biting her lip and staring into the half distance, while seeing nothing.