The Direction of the Wind: A Novel(20)
“Oui, l’argent. It is always a problem.”
She hesitated, not sure whether to share the rest with him, but ultimately deciding that she needed to share it with someone. “It’s not just the money,” she said, taking a deep breath. “My visa will be running out, and I thought I’d find work that would allow me to stay here, but it seems no employers want to take on that burden of helping me get a work permit. I’m afraid of what will happen to me after that time.”
Mathieu’s glacial blue eyes shimmered as he stroked her back. “I did not know you were carrying such burdens. I’m sorry this is happening, but we will find a way.”
She forced a smile. “Life always works out as it should, non?”
“J’espère que oui.” He pulled her to her feet and led her to the tiny kitchenette. “Let’s have some tea.”
He seemed lost in thought while waiting for the electric kettle to boil. Once it did, he poured hot water into two mugs and added loose-leaf tea to individual infusers before dropping them into the mugs to steep.
“I might be able to help you,” he said, staring into the steaming mugs.
Her eyes grew wide in protest. “I could not. You have helped me so much already.” She gestured toward her artwork. “I could not take money from you.”
He laughed. “And I have none to give you. I meant that mon ami teaches art classes. They are often looking for models to pose for the students. It’s all paid in cash, and he wouldn’t question your visa status. You are quite striking, and I suppose he would like that for his class.”
Nita was now even more embarrassed than when she thought he was offering her the money himself. “Me? I could not model. I wouldn’t know how.”
It was not a profession for upper-caste girls in India. It would have been the same as prostitution, as far as her family was concerned.
“You must only stay still. You seem as though you would have quite the discipline to do that,” he teased.
“I don’t know.” She tried to quiet the thoughts of disgrace running through her mind. There was no one left in her life to witness any such scandal anyway, she told herself. It would be a terrible example to set for Sophie, but Sophie would never know. Neither would her parents or Rajiv. She looked at Mathieu and tried not to think about her husband, because her time with Mathieu would be the greatest shame of all.
She needed the money; that much was clear. Without looking him in the eyes, she asked, “How much would it pay?”
11
SOPHIE
2019
The woman behind the reception desk narrows her eyes at Sophie, as if trying to size her up before responding. “It is odd, no? If you are related, why have you not kept up with her contact details?”
Sophie can tell the woman knows something, and her pulse quickens. She has lived her life without telling lies as Papa had instilled in her the karmic canon that if she lies, a bigger lie will be told to her. But the rules she has lived by until now have failed her. While she struggles internally with wanting to be honest despite knowing that the world has deceived her, she knows she cannot leave this place without learning what this woman knows.
“I have never come to France before, and it is going to be a surprise to her to see me after so many years.” She inhales sharply, knowing her words will be most convincing if she sticks to something in the realm of the truth. “Please, it is very important that I see her. My papa—her brother—passed away, and I have come to tell her the news in person.”
The dew that forms in Sophie’s eyes is no lie. It forms every time she must utter aloud that Papa is dead. That phrase has not gotten easier to say, and Sophie wonders if there will be a time when it will be. She hopes not. She fears if it is ever easy, it will be because she has forgotten Papa and the love he lavished upon her, and she never wants to forget. Even if she is angry at him now, she cannot forget the lifetime of love and protection he bestowed upon her. Especially as she learns the truth about Nita. Papa was the one who stayed. And for that, she will always be grateful. Because she is learning that there was another path. The one Nita chose. The one that abandons Sophie.
Cecile softens, a knowing look sweeping over her face. Loss is a universal equalizer. The raw and personal nature of it resonates with everyone.
She stands and hands the photo back to Sophie. “Why didn’t you say she was your aunt? I knew her. The resemblance between you now and the way she looked then is striking. Strong family genes, indeed.”
Sophie’s heart beats faster upon learning that this woman knows Nita! The rational, analytic side of her knew this was a long shot, statistically improbable that she would find Nita in this massive city, and yet this woman knows her! Sophie reasons that no matter the odds against her, she just needs one break. She takes a step closer to Cecile.
“Do you know where she is?” The hope in her voice is unmistakable. Lightning has already struck once, and the odds of it striking twice are improbable. Improbable, but not impossible.
Cecile shakes her head, ruefully. “It’s been many years, and many husbands, since I last saw her. She stumbled in here, much like yourself, when I was a young girl working this desk. Now, here I am, an old lady still working this same job.” She shakes her head as if playing a slideshow of the moments in her life over the past twenty years.