After the Circus

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It was Sunday. We got up very late, feeling as if we had the flu. We had to find an open pharmacy in the neighborhood where we could buy some aspirin. And anyway, we needed to walk the dog.

Grabley had already gone out. He had left a note, lying conspicuously on the office couch.

My dear Obligado,

You aren’t up yet, and I have to go to eleven o’clock Mass at Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

Your father called this morning, but I could barely hear him because he was calling from an outdoor phone booth: the car horns and traffic covered his voice.

On top of which, we were cut off, but I’m sure he’ll call back. Life in Switzerland must not be easy for him. I tried to convince him not to go there. It can be a tough place if you don’t have the cash …

We’re expecting you this evening without fail, at the Tomate. The last two shows are at eight and ten-thirty. Take your pick.

Afterward, we’re going to have a late supper in the neighborhood. I hope you can join us.

Henri

There was an open pharmacy on Rue Saint-André-des-Arts. We went to take the aspirin in a café on the quay, then walked to the Pont de la Tournelle after letting the dog off the leash.

It was nice out, as it had been the previous day, but colder, like a sunny day in February. Soon it would be spring. At least, I comforted myself with that illusion, as the prospect of spending the entire winter in Paris without knowing whether I could stay in the apartment made me uneasy.

As we walked, we began to feel better. We had lunch in a hotel on the Quai des Grands-Augustins called the Relais Bisson. When we saw how expensive the dishes were, we ordered just some soup, a dessert, and a little chopped meat for the dog.

And the afternoon drifted by in a gentle torpor on the bed in the fifth-floor bedroom, and, later, listening to the radio. We had plugged in the one in the office. I remember that it was a program about jazz musicians.

Suddenly, the charm evaporated: In an hour, we’d have to keep the appointment Ansart had set for us.

“How about if we just stood him up?” I asked.

She paused a moment. I could feel her giving in.

“If we do, we can never see them again, and we’d have to leave the car on Rue Raffet.”

She took a cigarette from a pack of Camels that Grabley had left behind. She lit it and sucked in a puff. She coughed. It was the first time I’d ever seen her smoke.

“It would be stupid to break it off with them …”

I was disappointed that she’d changed her mind. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray.

“We’ll do what they want, and then I’ll ask Ansart for a lot of money so we can go to Rome.”

I had the impression she was only saying that to mollify me and didn’t really believe it. A last beam of sunlight bathed the tip of the Ile de la Cité, just at the end of the Vert-Galant park. There were only a few passersby left on the quay and the booksellers were closing their stalls. I heard the clock on the Institut chime five P.M.