Chapter 86: Mimi XI—On the Subject of Jonathan
As the girl held her hands in a graceful arc over her head, her long, thin neck held exquisitely, and she demonstrated a tight little pirouette to Jana’s infinite delight, Michele decided that Jonathan had stumbled upon a creature not human. These multi-talented, unconditionally friendly, heart-breakingly gorgeous girls couldn’t possibly be human. They were like angels that were born to parents, never know an awkward stage in their lives, dazzle with all sorts of talents and enslave the fantasies of all males and females around them. In a way, these sorts of rare, perfect creatures were slaves to their own attractiveness. Often, they became sad, distrusting souls, living at the whims of whoever desired them the most. They were the flimsy fairies of dreams that always seemed to slip away, disappearing before they ever became old.
Jonathan would discover her, Michele thought. He would find such a pearl. And she knew already, as soon as she saw the girl standing quietly waiting for him to bring her punch in the kitchen, from the moment she heard her waking that forgotten piano in the parlor, and the moment she saw Jonathan’s pale, adoring face as they came scurrying downstairs from the upstairs tour, that his heart was lost and she was forever in his senses. These girls were almost like narcotics. Of course her son would discover one!
Michele decided that she wouldn’t be mad. What Jonathan was happy with, she would be happy with, but why couldn't it have been three years from now? At least! Why did he have to be taken from her so soon? Why did this girl deserve him?
"Are you gonna win a gold medal?" Jana asked Elena.
Elena sat on the carpet and shook her head. "Nah, I ain’t that good a skater."
"Oh," Jana said in a disappointed voice.
"I really prefer ballet," Elena said. "I’m better at that."
Jana beamed. "Ballerina? You’re a ballerina?"
Michele sighed. Too much.
"Tammy sends her apologies," Mike’s low voice whispered in her ear as he flopped down on the couch next to her.
Michele looked at him and smiled. "I don’t like her anyway," she said.
Keane smiled, "I think with her the feeling is mutual darling."
Michele sighed as she watched Gigi chasing her brother in long circles around Jana.
"Gloomy, gloomy," Mike tutted, "Don’t start with that attitude Meems."
Michele smiled. "I’ll start with any attitude I see fit, it’s my house."
"It’s always your way isn’t it sweetheart?" Keane said.
Michele frowned. "What is that supposed to mean."
"I mean," Mike said in a low voice. "Your husband has been keeping me informed of your latest shenanigans."
Michele smiled. "Brilliant! Aren’t they?"
Mike shook his head. "You can’t keep playing these games. You can’t win every time. I have a bad feeling about you two... sooner or later... You might lose, and someone is really gonna get hurt."
Michele blew out a long breath of air and waved her hand. "We always win, you know that Mike. Don’t be a worrybug."
There was a loud, cornered puppy snarl from Wayne and he jumped on Gigi, clamping her tail in his mouth and dragging her, howling across the carpet. The children were laughing as he dragged her all the way to Joe and looked up at him, wagging his tail. Joe laughed and patted him on his fuzzy head. "Good boy," he said. Gigi yelped and tried running away only to be pounced on again by her brother and he dragged her back to his master.
"Finally," Michele said. "That dull puppy is showing some backbone."
"Well," Keane said. "Sooner or later, everyone does when pushed."
Michele leaned forward as Elena and Jana separated the puppies and rolled them around the carpet. Already she had Jana worshipping her every move and Freddy was even sitting quiet, his eyes fixated on her in silent awe. One girl, one evening and she had captured them all.
"Where did your boy find her?" Mike said.
"School," Michele said. "Although I’m beginning to think she danced out of a dream. Either way, he is hopelessly in love with her. It’s beautiful."
"Those are the things we live for in the end, I suppose," Mike said. "Watching our children’s happiness, trying to remember if we were ever that pure. Jonathan has really fallen upon a gem, hasn’t he."
"He deserves nothing less," Michele said, looking into Keane’s gaze. "I’ve always wanted the best for him."
1988—Montreal
"I’ve been working on my backhand!" Alexandra said, "Come on Patrick, let me show you!"
"You have the backhand of a kitten!" Patrick laughed, drawing a needlepoint glare from his sister. "I don’t believe it."
"Believe this!" Alexandra snapped, throwing a weak punch into his chest and running out of the house.
Patrick laughed and stormed after her, their voices cutting through the air and fading. They were probably going to end up in the tennis courts again, Michele thought with a sigh. Hours upon hours they slammed those racquets around there. Michele liked playing tennis, but she was tired, she could never keep up with the two of them.
"You and I, we should set up a doubles team, eh? Try to show those two a lesson." Stephane Roy said, grinning at her and winking.
Michele smiled weakly. "Why not," she said. "Why not... maybe later."
"Why not now?" Stephane replied.
Michele frowned. The tone in his voice was often faintly suggestive, he always had her a bit nervous at times.
"I’m tired," she said, a slight edge in her voice.
Stephane continued to smile as he stood up and sauntered out of the room.
"You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to be more friendly."
Michele sighed and looked at Patrick’s mother. "I don’t think I’ve offended him, Ms. Miller. I’m tired that’s all."
"We try real hard, do you know that, to be as open and friendly with you." she said. "The day will come when you will find us not so accommodating."
"And I will be left out in the cold, eh?" Michele said. "It’s Patrick’s decision is it not? Why not let him be?"
"Why?" she retorted, "Because Patrick deserves better, much better. I didn’t raise my boy and watch him grow just so that the first groupie who catches his fancy..."
Michele didn’t want to hear the rest. She covered her face and stomped out of the room, she inhaled sharply, refusing to cry. It was hard, though and she sobbed without tears for a moment.
"Is Barbara picking on you again?" a voice said quite close to her.
"What is it with you!" Michele snapped. "All of you, appearing at my elbow!"
Patrick’s father, Michel smiled a wide friendly smile. It was a smile Patrick often used on her when he wanted to soften her up, and a smile Stephane also used as well. The three were very similar in looks and temperament, so much so that it was actually quite unsettling.
"Forgive me, my dear," Michel said. "Forgive Barbara as well, she’s always been very attuned to Patrick’s best interests..."
"Which I obviously do not!" Michele snapped.
"Oh calm down," Michel said. "It doesn’t serve you to get all inflamed and angry. You might as well just turn a cheek, one of you has to."
Michele rolled her eyes as he wrapped his arm around her waist and squeezed a little bit. "Why don’t you go out, call up a friend, go shopping. Take a break from us before we drive you completely insane. eh?"
"I think I just may, it isn’t as if any of you will miss me," Michele sniffed.
"Oh you’ll be missed," Michel whispered, letting her go and lifting her hand, pressing his lips to it.
"I think I may have to consider retirement soon."
"Ooooh! Don’t talk that way!" Michele said, frowning with a smile in her eye.
"Say it in English my dear," Larry said, leaning back against the marble of his bathtub and tossing a pale arm over his face. "I’m old!" he groaned.
Michele smiled, looking at him and then she slid forward in the warm water, gliding against his body and smoothing her hand over his arm. "Don’t talk that way," she said in English. "Is good?"
His mouth broke into a grin. "Pretty good," he said in English, "You’re getting better at it."
"Jeannette is a good teacher," Michele whispered.
"Don’t talk about my wife," Larry said bluntly. "Please."
"She can’t hear me," Michele said switching back to French and, slipping her fingers underneath his arm, coaxing it off his face. "She’s gone for quite a while yet. And stop talking about being old. All this self pity..."
"Well it’s true," he said, avoiding eye contact. "It’s not year by year anymore it’s day by day and I get slower and slower...the new season is still a couple months away and with each day that passes, I get older."
Michele pressed her palm against his face, turning it so that she could look at him. "I suppose, you can see some age, some wisdom, is not so bad."
Larry sighed, his chest filling with air and heaving, moving against her body. Old man! Michele thought as she covered his face with her hands and then she trailed her fingertips over the pensive lines on his forehead, the old battle scars that would collapse into ancient folds someday. The laugh lines were deep too, and she ran her index finger on them then tugged at his scruffy mustache. "That’s what makes you look old!" she said with a giggle. "Get rid of that, it’s too messy."
Larry caught her fingers with his teeth in reply, holding them for a moment, looking straight into her eyes with a quiet lust before releasing them. She could feel the heat building in him, pressing against her thigh.
"Stay the way you are," he whispered, running his fingers up her back. "I want you to be like this forever, I don’t want you getting older. I won’t allow it, not while I have to watch myself become useless."
Michele didn’t know how to answer that, his plea for a promise she could never fulfill, especially now.
"You’re so pale and soft, still so young," Robinson said and then he kissed the base of her throat, trailing his lips along her collarbone. "When you make love to me, beautiful little girl sometimes, for a moment, I feel young too."
"Oh," Michele whispered but when he slid his hand between her legs, trying to pull her onto him she pushed back. "No," she said, "Not in the water, it hurts too much."
Larry smiled. "Whatever you want," he said. Big, lanky man that he was, he made a loud racket, splashing and dripping water everywhere as he climbed out of the tub. "You’ve been in there long enough, you’ll get pruny."
Michele laughed and screamed playfully as he wrapped his arms around her light body, lifting her from the bathtub and carrying her out. "My God!" she cried, "Be careful with me! Larry you’re insane! I’m soaking wet!"
"I hope so," he muttered, carrying her across the carpet, water pattering all over it and then there was a dizzying rush in her senses as he dropped her onto the huge, soft bed. Michele tossed her head back and laughed; she could feel the blankets underneath her absorbing the moisture from her body. "Be gentle with me," she whispered.
"That’s a first from you," Robinson said in a low voice, he settled his slick body on top of her and cupping her face in his large, coarse hands, he kissed her softly.
Michele relaxed, sighed a bit through his kiss and wrapped her arms around him, feeling the corded, hard, wiry muscles of his back. He held her close to him, gently, kissing her body, touching her lightly with his hands, almost as if she were a pet. His slow, gentle rhythm was so different from Patrick’s forceful, almost violent style of lovemaking. He lasted longer, kissed slower and barely made a sound aside from whispers and breathy groans. It was the sign of a mature man, she supposed, patience, and understanding for a woman, not the hurried in the moment breathlessness from someone younger.
"So why do you want to be treated like a lady all of a sudden?" Robinson asked, kissing the lobe of her ear after they had exhausted themselves, their bodies relaxing into a bathwater soaked bed.
Michele sighed and smiled, she supposed she had to tell someone. "Feel," she whispered, grabbing his hand and guiding it down her body pressing it against her slim tummy.
"Mmm," Robinson said. "I guess you have put on a little weight...."
"Shut-up!" Michele said, smiling as she hit at him playfully with her fists. "I am not fat!"
Larry laughed and batted her hands away. "OK! I apologize, what are you trying to tell me."
"I’m pregnant," Michele whispered, her smile hurting her cheeks.
The smile left Larry’s eyes and mouth quickly and he almost fell off the bed moving away from her. "What?" he exclaimed. It seemed as if his eyes were filled with terror. "What?!"
Michele sat up, not knowing what to do suddenly. She hadn’t planned on this reaction. "Oh no!" she said with a nervous laugh, "No. Not to worry Larry, not to worry. He is not yours, he is Patrick’s."
"And you know this for a fact?" Larry said with that terrified glint still in his voice.
Michele slumped forward a bit with a sigh. "Yes I know, I’ve only seen you twice in the last what, month or so? And with Patrick, well he is the only other one. There now you can be happy for me eh? Now that the responsibility is off your shoulders?"
"Sure," Robinson said, looking away from her and nodding. "Sure... God fuck it no!"
A pain went through her breast, not what she had been expecting at all.
"No I’m not happy for you, I’m not gonna give you that luxury, how dare you do this now! How dare you!" Robinson snapped, looking at her with sparking eyes.
"What?" Michele gasped. "What’s wrong?"
"Are things not going well between you and Patrick? Do you need some sort of leverage on him..."
"I didn’t plan it!" Michele cut in, not quite yelling. "Things like this happen sometimes, it was just an accident."
The bed was starting to feel wet, cold and uncomfortable underneath her body, Michele scooted back on it, finding a dry spot.
"Does Patrick know?" he asked.
Michele shook her head. "No, not yet."
Larry sighed, looking relieved. "Great, that’s great. There’s still time then. Just get rid of it before he finds out and everything will be fine."
"And everything will be fine?" she squeaked in a horrified voice, covering her belly with her hands. "How dare you tell me to get rid of my baby like garbage!"
"It’s not even a baby at this point," Larry said calmly, in that fatherly, commanding voice he often used on her. "I know what’s best for you two, and you would do well to follow my advice as you’ve always done."
She pressed her hands harder on herself, willing a protective shield over the treasure inside her. She hated him now, more than she ever had before, spoiling this moment like he was.
"I suppose you’ll be wanting him to give you a wedding ring now," he continued in a contemptuous voice. "The last thing Patrick needs is a wife and baby clinging to him and that’s the last thing you need to be! Why ruin such a perfect relationship with a baby? You both would need to become different people."
Michele rolled her eyes, closing them, holding her breath.
"You’re what, twenty, twenty one years old now?" he said .
Michele nodded, not opening her eyes.
"Wait awhile yet," he said in a softer voice, a persuasive voice. "Why ground yourself and rob Patrick’s freedom with a problem you can easily fix now? A baby isn’t like acquiring a puppy.. you have to... you..."
"Ridiculous!" Michele spat, hopping off the bed and scooping up her underwear and jeans. "You’re not even being truthful with yourself if you think you believe what you’re saying!" She yanked on her jeans, not bothering to clasp them closed and she glared at him.
"What?" he said quietly, the fire leaving his eyes.
"When I have my baby," she said her voice sounding suddenly powerful to her, "He will take my love and my time and he will do the same to Patrick. And you know that and you’re thinking, what will happen to poor Larry Robinson? Without his toys, so
sad!"
"You don’t know what you’re saying," Robinson said, his eyes beginning to glisten. "That’s not what I meant."
Warmth began to blossom in her cheeks, and she could feel it threading through her throat and breasts and inside her where that precious creature was. How could she hurt anymore when she felt so special?
"Poor scruffy stork," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. She walked softly around the bed, over the cold wet spots on the carpet that jolted the bottoms of her feet. Larry looked up at her, his eyes trembling, tortured. Because of the life inside her? Because of her? What a heady feeling! "Lonely stork, you poor big bird." She kissed him on the forehead. "We can’t belong to you forever, and you should know this. We’re not your pets."
Loud, sharp, a sob of pain from Larry and Michele felt exhilarated, and she gently held him against her bare skin. Suddenly, with a baby inside of her, she had won her independence. She grabbed his hand, pressing it over her belly button.
"He is growing inside of me," she whispered. "And no one can stop that, and he will take a place in my heart that you and no one else can never touch. I will grow bigger and bigger and bigger and when he’s born, I will be his mother, not your little girl."
His arms tightened around her, holding her to him, in that way she had grown accustomed to with Patrick. Now he was scared, just like a boy, just like any man could be scared. He was just like the others.
"I have to go now, kiss me."
He gave her a hard, searching, hungry kiss. When it broke, she could see the emotions in his eyes and she felt the weight gone from her chest. "Things don’t have to change so much," she said as she put on the rest of her clothes, "We’ll be friends and I couldn’t forget you."
"You will regret this," he said. "How dare you think you can brush me off like I was one of your... one nighters! I’m more than that! I made you!"
Michele smiled, numb to anything at this point and she ran her hands over his hair, tousling it. "And what a wonderful job you did."
"Your children will regret this too!" he bellowed as she left his bedroom. "You can’t just switch into another life so easy! You’re only being cruel to yourself and that damn baby!"
"Au revoir!" she sang, smiling as she ran to her car.
When Michele returned home it was in just enough time to catch Patrick’s family as they were leaving. Damn, she thought to herself, she was hoping they’d already be gone. They were in the car except for Patrick’s father who was walking around the back of the car to get to his door. He stopped when he saw Michele and he waved at her.
"Oooh, so sad, you’re leaving," Michele said brightly.
"Where’s your shopping bags?" he said, winking at her and roving his eyes up and down her body.
Michele smiled, "I didn’t see a thing I wanted."
He raised his eyebrows and held out his hands, "Well maybe some other time, more luck eh?" Michele waved her hand at him and walked away.
"You’ve been so quiet," Patrick said to her later that night just as she was dropping off to sleep. "I don’t mind that you left earlier today, I know how you like your space, but don’t block me out."
Michele opened her eyes and spoke through a yawn. "I didn’t know I was ignoring you. I’m sorry my love."
"You have," Patrick said, rubbing the small of her back. "All night you haven’t said a word. You have barely noticed me you’ve just been smiling to yourself, like, well smugly."
"I’m sorry," Michele said again.
"You’ve been acting differently," Patrick whispered into her ear. "Is it because you’ve "missed" something?"
Michele sat straight up a dart of excitement flushing through her. "How could you know!" she cried.
Patrick started laughing holding out his hands. "I’m just smart, you know. I don’t remember the last time you’ve well... you’ve had that issue and I figured..."
"How could you know?" she repeated, pushing at him. "Did you do something to insure it?"
"Don’t get paranoid!" Patrick laughed. "So is it in there?" He shyly brushed his fingers over her tummy.
"Of course he is! Where else would he be?" she snapped.
Patrick raised his eyebrows. "He? What if it’s a girl?"
"A boy," Michele said. "I will have nothing less! So you’re happy?"
Patrick nodded, grinning.
"Oh I love you!" she cried throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him all over his face.
"I love you," Patrick whispered kissing her tummy, he lay with his cheek pillowed there, and she fell asleep content, feeling the whisper of his eyelashes on the sensitive skin.
He would be a boy, she thought over and over again in her dreams. He would be a boy, one that she would love and raise and he would never, ever go through the pain his father had to.
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