Page 12 of A Life Imagined
He’d been too young to remember the specifics, though she had told him a carefully crafted version, shrouded in romance.His father, a better man, a hero even—a former soldier turned peacekeeper who’d fallen in love with an orphaned girl in a foreign land and spirited her away to a better life.As an adult, Rayan held a far more cynical view of his father’s intentions.Perhaps the man had thought a broken horse would be easier to tame.But who knew?Maybe he’d loved her once—and she him.Maybe he had been a hero—until he returned home to find himself nothing but an ordinary man, and the drink had taken whatever was left.
Suddenly, Rayan was tired of looking at the remnants of cultures long past.“You said the decorative arts collection was a favorite of yours.I’d like to go there.”
Elise’s face brightened.“Of course.Let’s head upstairs.”
Chapter Five
The apartment was on the top floor of an old Haussmann-style building a short walk from the Bonne Nouvelle metro station.Not that the woman would be caught dead taking the metro.Mathias had been here several times and hadn’t mentioned anything to Rayan.It felt like something that was better left separate, an unnecessary imposition to burden the man with.After all, that was how Mathias had always viewed her—as an unnecessary imposition.
He knocked on the door and, within moments, heard the purposeful clip of heeled footsteps.He smelled her first, the waft of perfume that conjured a lifetime of splintered memories.She’d worn the same scent since he was a child.
Marguerite smiled when she opened the door, as though expecting him.Which couldn’t be the case, because he never told her when he’d be in the city.
“Mathias,” she said, holding the door open.“Come in.”
Six months after he’d left Montreal, his mother had reached out to him in France.He’d given her a number in case she ever needed to make contact—a number he had hoped she would never use.She’d been distraught over the phone and told him there was nothing left for her in Canada.After forty years, she wanted to come home.
The move had been simple enough to arrange.He’d used a company to relocate her things and found her an apartment in her old neighborhood in Paris.When she arrived, he went—albeit reluctantly—to collect her from the airport.There was something humbling about her when she stepped out into the arrivals area of the terminal.It was one of the few times he’d seen his mother truly disheveled.She appeared panicked until she spotted him and then reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly, the closest thing to an embrace Mathias could remember.
After that, he’d come to see her a handful of times when business brought him to the city.She’d returned to her polished ways, but the humbleness hadn’t left her.It was as if his leaving had shattered her and she was attempting to put herself together anew.
“The humidity has been horrendous.”She stood at the sink, filling up the kettle under the tap.“I’d forgotten how hot it can get in early autumn.”
Mathias flipped through the newspaper she’d left out on the kitchen table.“Hmm.”
“How’s the work?”she asked as the kettle boiled.The workwas code for whatever he did that allowed money to appear in her bank account each month—the nature of which was not up for discussion.“Business is good?”
She wrung her hands in this new way of hers—this altered version of his mother, who asked questions and listened attentively and always seemed to be watching him.The sudden interest was jarring.Mathias wasn’t sure he liked it any better than her self-absorbed prattling.
“Same as always.”
“I have some of those pastries you liked.”She withdrew several spiral-shaped Danishes from a brown paper bag and placed them on a plate, which she ferried over to the table.“When you were little and we came here, you’d pick out the same ones in every bakery we visited.”
Mathias stared at them.They didn’t look familiar.He couldn’t recall ever having liked pastries, or sweets for that matter.Then again, there was so much from those ill-fated trips that he’d blocked out.
His mother stood, looking on expectantly.
“I’ve eaten,” he said.
They sat and drank their coffee, and his mother spoke of reconnecting with old friends and visiting places from her childhood.She seemed more at ease than when he’d first arrived, the flutter of panic receding.When he was done, she walked him to the door and stopped, reaching up to brush a stray piece of lint from the shoulder of his jacket.Mathias’s first instinct was to recoil, a deep-rooted reaction that he had to rein in carefully.The gesture of familiarity was alien, like she was playing the part of the doting mother and he the obliging son—although neither of them knew much about that particular performance.
“Who is she?”his mother said with a knowing smile, her blue eyes catching his.“The girl that’s brought this out in you?I’ve never seen you so…” She trailed off, the word floating in the air.
Happy?Mathias thought ruefully.Has she ever seen it in me so as to recognize it now?
“Goodbye, Mother.”He turned to leave, and all the things that remained unspoken stretched between them.
Mathias hailed a taxi from outside his mother’s apartment.It was late afternoon, and knowing Elise, they wouldn’t be done until the museum closed for the day.He had the driver drop him off at a bar several streets from the hotel and went inside for a drink.
The city had gotten under his skin.He was irritated, unsettled.His mother’s comment was lodged in his mind, and he kept returning to it, unsure why it rankled.These days, it felt more and more like he’d become someone else entirely.
By the time he left the bar, it was early evening, and the streets were backed up with cars.Not wanting to sit in traffic, he decided to walk the remainder of the way to the hotel.As Mathias approached the hotel entrance, he saw Elise and Rayan standing on the sidewalk with a young man who was pacing restlessly.Mathias didn’t recognize him.He was thin and wore all black, his hair dyed silver at the tips.His face was screwed up in a caricature of fury, and he kept jabbing a finger at Elise.
Then the man stepped forward and shoved Rayan in the chest.Mathias felt the sharp edge of anger and quickened his pace toward them.He watched Rayan’s face harden.He’d seen the expression earlier when the souvenir peddler had approached him in the gardens, and Mathias knew what came next.
“Theo, back off!”Elise cried, stepping between them.
Theo’s eyes swung to Mathias, who’d arrived on the sidewalk beside her.“And who is this?”
