Read The Seven Turns of the Snail's Shell: A Novel Online
Authors: Mj Roë
The front door opened. Anna got up from the desk and went into the hall. C-C’s face was grave.
“We have a plumbing problem,” he told her. Clo brushed past her with a quick nod and a “
Salut
,” his black, Cambodian eyes focused on getting to the back of the house as quickly as possible despite his artificial limb.
“What’s the matter?” she asked C-C.
“A pipe has burst. It’s an old house. It has happened before.” He followed the caretaker.
Anna shrugged and went back to the PC. Another message popped up.
He must be working late
, she thought as she looked at her watch. She swallowed hard and opened it:
Hi, Good to hear that it’s going “better than expected.” I assume Guy is there for the wedding? Say
bonjour
to him for me. I don’t understand why you can’t stop off in Paris. Maybe you could call me, if you get a chance, and we could discuss it? Unless of course, you’re planning to be with
him?
With whom? What are you implying, Mark?
she thought, knowing full well what he was implying. She responded with a single question mark in the subject line.
Two minutes later, there was another e-mail from him:
Ah, got your attention. You are still online then. Good. I was joking, of course. A dumb ref to your
former
French lover.
“This is ridiculous,” she said aloud. “Okay, absolutely the last response.” She typed, “You’re working too late. Go to sleep.”
Anna knew that Mark frequently had insomnia and would stay up until way after midnight working at his computer, so she expected that she’d get another response. Five minutes passed. She read and responded as enthusiastically as she could to some of the publisher’s e-mails.
Then, more out of curiosity than anything, she minimized the e-mail window and looked at the icons on the main screen. A French software package for managing a small medical clinic had been installed. She clicked on the icon. A screen came up demanding a password. She tried the one C-C had given her for Internet access. It wouldn’t let her in. Well, at least C-C was security conscious. Being PC literate, Anna checked the size of the database. There couldn’t have been many entries. She scanned for the last time an update had been made to the scheduler. Two weeks ago? He hadn’t scheduled a patient in two weeks?
That’s strange
, she thought. Everyday since she had arrived, though, he had announced that he had to make a house call to visit a patient.
Another e-mail arrived. Mark again:
Okay, so if you are still online, Anna, I’m sorry. I promise to not mention you-know-who ever again. It’s just that I’m missing you so much. I love you, and I want us to get back together. I won’t mention the “M” word either. I’m groveling now. Won’t you please just meet me in Paris? Or at least call me to discuss it? I do love you. You do know how much I need you, don’t you? I’m yours, always and forever, M.
Anna put her fingers to her lips as she reread the e-mail. Mark had once accused her of wanting to have two lives. Maybe he was right. It occurred to her that C-C had not mentioned the future, had not even asked her a question about her plans. Mark, by contrast, was always talking about how he wanted to be married and have a family, how he needed her. C-C had told her that he loved her, but he had never once mentioned the future. Even his house was beautiful and comfortable, but it was so much him, so masculine. There was never any mention of making room enough to accommodate a wife or a family. They had been absorbed in the moment since she had arrived.
What if
, she wondered,
in two days, I just packed up and drove to Monique’s? Would he just let me leave him again?
Anna had to admit to herself that she really didn’t know him very well. He was and he wasn’t the same person. She pondered their relationship. Maybe she didn’t really love him anymore. Maybe it was nothing but a scintillating physical attraction, just an affair that would run its course. Then what would be left? C-C had come between Mark and her, now more than ever. Would he always be between them?
A door opened and slammed in the back of the house, ending her contemplation. Suddenly needing to be alone to think, Anna shut down the PC and ran out the front door.
It was a hot, dry, airless day. She wandered down to the park where the
pétanque
players were having an argument about the placement of the little wooden
cochon
. As she seated herself on a green, slatted chair in the shade of a plane tree to watch them, she felt suddenly claustrophobic in this small, rural community, pretty and charming as it was. She missed the ocean breeze, the freedom of being able to walk along the cool, sandy beach for hours. She opened her cell phone and dialed Monique’s number, wondering if there would be service in this remote village.
“
Allô
?” Monique’s voice was barely audible because of the static.
“Monique? Anna.”
“Anna! I’ve been thinking of you. How did the [hissing sound] go? Are you having a good [crackling noises],
chérie
?”
“The wedding was lovely. They seem to be such a happy couple. [snapping sounds]” Anna winced and held the phone away from her ear. “I took lots of photos.”
“And when will we see you? [more hissing and crackling noises]”
“Soon. When are you going back to Paris?”
“Georges is leaving on the thirtieth. I’ll stay longer, so you and I can have a good visit.”
“I should be there by the end of the week.”
“
Bon
. It’s all set then. How long can you [inaudible]?”
“What? I think you just asked how long can I stay. A week or so. I don’t know really. It will depend on…” Anna hesitated.
“On what?”
“On C-C.”
“Do I dare ask how it’s going with him?” They were now listening to static interference from another cell phone conversation.
“Go right ahead.”
“
Bien
, how’s it going with C-C?”
“Since you asked…” As she talked, Anna walked toward the town hall hoping that the reception would be better. “Can you hear me better now?” Monique said she could. Anna then explained the reason for her call. She described the house, her suspicions, her doubts, Mark’s e-mails.
Monique listened without interruption until Anna had finished her long discourse. Then she said, “Well,
mon amie
, you have a dilemma, don’t you? Let me know when you figure it out.”
“Monique!” Anna was irritated. “I was hoping for some good advice from you.”
“Not this time, Anna. Call me whenever you need an ear. I’ll listen, but I want to keep your friendship too much to try to give you advice. I’ve interfered enough already. Besides, you have to decide what is best for you.”
Anna let out a sigh.
“I heard that,” Monique said. “You know, we French have a saying:
Coeur qui soupire n’a pas ce qu’il désire
.”
“What? The sigh I just let out proves that my heart isn’t satisfied?” Anna paused and sighed again. “Oh, maybe you’re right about that.”
“I am,
chérie
. I’ve got a feeling.”
W
hen Anna returned to C-C’s house, she found the kitchen in a mess and Clo mopping water from the floor. Above the sink, there was a huge hole in the wall where the antique tiles had been. Protruding from the opening was the rear end of a man, obviously a plumber, whose upper body seemed to have disappeared into the hole. He was pounding loudly on a pipe. Anna picked up one of the broken tiles and looked at C-C with a frown.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I bought extras. The wall will be repaired.”
“What caused the pipe to burst?”
“I expect the extra strain. We’ve been using a lot more water. The bathroom is directly above.” He flashed his disarming smile at her.
Anna turned and ran up the stairs, tears welling in her eyes. She sat down on the bed. It was a bad sign. Even the house couldn’t accommodate more than one person.
C-C entered the room. He saw her face.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She didn’t answer him.
“Did I say something to offend you?” He came over to the bed and sat down next to her. “I was just joking about the water usage. It has happened before with just me here.” He tried to put his arm around her.
“It’s not what you said…it’s just…” She brushed him away as she stood up and went over to the window. She crossed her arms in front of her and turned to look at him. “It’s what you haven’t said.”
C-C was puzzled. He said, “I don’t understand.”
“Where is our relationship going? What’s the end, C-C? You never talk about anything but how much you missed me, never anything beyond this moment, today, lunch, dinner. Did it ever occur to you that there might be a tomorrow? That the day is coming that I might leave again? What would you do if I left today? Right now? This minute?” She caught herself. It was a rerun. A decade ago she had brought up a similar conversation. Her words had been met then with the cold, icy stare of non-commitment. She had flown back to California shortly afterwards. Her voice lowered as she added a snappish and abrupt, “Well?”
The room was silent. A slight breeze blew gently from the window. Neither of them moved. What Anna saw in C-C’s sea-deep, gray eyes this time was neither cold nor icy; it was an emotional storm.
A door slammed downstairs. A voice in the foyer yelled, “
Monsieur le Docteur
?” C-C seemed to be in a haze. “
Monsieur le Docteur
?
Venez tout de suite
!
C’est urgent
!” C-C ran his hands nervously through his hair, got up, and went over to the top of the stairs. “
Qu’est-ce
?…”
“
C’est ma femme. C’est l’heure
.”
“
J’arrive
.” C-C turned to Anna. “I have to leave. A woman in the village is having a baby. That is her husband downstairs come to fetch me. She will have a difficult time. I expect a cesarean will be required. It will take some time. Maybe all night.” He was changing his clothes quickly as he talked. He turned to look at Anna, his eyes the full register of the grays of the sea. “You have every right to ask those questions. I promise you we will talk about the future… when I get back.” With that, he raced down the stairs, the front door slammed shut, and he was gone.
Anna, disappointed and humiliated, stood for several minutes by the window with her arms crossed.
She mumbled aloud, “What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t have said those things to him.” She found her journal in her carry-on and went down the stairs. Creeping cautiously through the kitchen so as not to disturb Clo and the plumber, who were in heated discussion, alternately scratching and shaking their heads, shrugging shoulders, and pointing to the hole in the wall, she slipped out the back door and followed the small pathway to the back corner of the rose garden.
Seated in the shade on a bench under the rose arbor, Anna wrote about how she felt meeting her grandfather and seeing C-C again. She described the wedding and the festivities following it, the village, the Ajaccio, Clo, and C-C’s house. Two hours passed quickly.
“
Excusez-moi
,
Mademoiselle
.”
Anna looked up. The caretaker was standing, slightly bent over, directly in front of her. He had removed his cap and was holding it to his chest as if in worship.
“
Désolé
,
Mademoiselle
. I afraid bad news. The pipe, it not be fixed today.
Monsieur
call a little while ago. He at hospital in Nice. He wanted talk you, but I think you gone out.” He cleared his throat nervously. “I no realize you still here. I just now came through garden to my cottage.” He paused, shaking his head. “Since there no water in house,
Mademoiselle
,
toilettes
no operate.
Monsieur
suggest you go to Ajaccio for night.”
“Do you have water to your cottage, Clo?”
He looked uncomfortable. “
Oui
, but it too small for two.”
Anna nodded and smiled. He had misunderstood her question. “The Ajaccio will be fine.” She thanked him, closed her journal, and went into the house to pack her bag. The letters C-C had written her were still lying on his desk, unread. She folded them into the inside pocket of her journal.
A
nna’s eyes moved back and forth behind closed lids as she followed the action of her fitful dream.
The young man is behind her as she pushes her luggage cart toward the end of the loading platform. A look of admiration is in his eyes as she glances casually back at him. She smiles. At the end of a long journey, she returns. The same man is waiting on the platform for her. He takes her hand. They waltz together. Then, something happens that stops the dancing. He turns around suddenly and runs away. She wants to run after him. A glass window between them prevents her from moving. She pushes it, and it shatters into a thousand pieces. When the air finally clears, she is suddenly on the quay in Le Havre. There are two platforms in front of her. One is as steep as a hill; the other is pebbled with cobbles. At the end of the steep, uphill platform stands a man she recognizes from an old photo. It is her father. As she watches him, he smiles at her and points downward to a man who is standing at the end of the cobblestone platform. But she can’t see who he is, only that his is a male figure. There is fog and mist surrounding him. “Anna?” Rain begins falling heavily. “Anna? Is that you?” It is a familiar voice. She turns around. C-C is walking across wet sand toward her. She takes a step forward, and as she does so, the sun suddenly shines so brightly in her eyes that she is blinded. She can’t move, can’t see. Someone takes hold of her gently from behind and pulls her back away from the platform. The arms feel strong and familiar. She can’t turn around to see who it is. “Who are you? Where are you pulling me to?” she cries out.