Page 46 of Enemies to French Kisses
“Do you want to come stay with me?” he asks. “Maybe that would be more comfortable and would let Laura off the hook?”
He’s testing. Laura leans forward, her lips parted and her eyes intently looking into mine. I shift my gaze from Guillaume to Laura, and back to Guillaume again. My head aches, and that’s not faked.
My phone rings. Alain. Of course his timing is terrible, as usual.
I hold up the phone so they see who it is. “I have to take this. But thank you for stopping by.” I pat Guillaume on the shoulder, and open the door for him before answering as I head into the kitchen. “Oui?”
“N’importe quoi, ‘oui’! Ecoute-moi.”
I can tell this conversation is going to be ‘one of those.’ I hold the phone away from my ear as I prepare a sandwich. He’s yelling about shares and irresponsibility and lack of responsiveness, but I only catch about one in three words. That’s enough.
I mute the microphone and hiss, “Laura!” She appears in the kitchen door. I hold up a packet of dyed orange tasteless cheese. “Did you buy this?”
“It’s cheddar,” she whispers back.
“Marc! Marc! Est-ce que tu comprends?”
I smack at the phone, annoyed, to unmute it. “Oui, oui. Continue.” Alain hardly needs an invitation and he continues his tirade. I mute and put him on speaker before grabbing a plate.
“Laura,” I hiss again and she reappears. “Mimolette.”
“Huh?”
“No cheddar. Getmimolettenext time.”
She scrunches her face and looks at the phone, where Alain’s voice is growing in speed, volume, and intensity. “Shouldn’t you be dealing with your screaming brother instead of your cheese?”
I slice the not-mimoletteand place it centered over the smoked ham. “I’m used to it. This is his normal voice with me. In fact, this is his concerned voice which can easily be confused with his furious voice.”
Laura raises her eyebrows. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
“You don’t have to.”
“He’s in the process of scolding you like a child.”
“He doesn’t have any other way to communicate. He didn’t inherit the gentle gene.”
“Marc!”
That’s enough for one day. “Merci, Alain. I’ve got to get going. Poor Laura has been waiting for my attention this whole time. Never mind that I am off work because of a major concussion, and don’t be concerned about the fact that I can’t sleep through the night because of it. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine and able to fulfill your administrative needs just as soon as this fog lifts.”
There’s a pause on the phone. That is not Alain’s way. He always has a snappy retort. When he replies, I don’t recognize his tone. “Is it that bad?”
“I doubt they kept me overnight at the hospital so that I could learn to appreciate food.” My tone is more biting than I intended. It’s only occurring to me now just how many times Alain has barreled over my situation, anything to get down to business, anything that better serves him.
And I’m sick of it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alain insists and I’m seconds away from hanging up on him. “You never tell me anything.”
“We can add that to the list. Feel free to send me an email with any additional reprimands you may have.”
His voice quietens. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s what you said.”
“I—” If I didn’t know him better, I’d have said Alain is about to apologize. “Marc?”
“Yes?”
