Chapter 1

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The apartment was quiet. For once, no one would suspect a broken family was living on La Rue D'Orange. Arlette couldn't believe how quiet it was as she walked down her old street where she had lived seventeen years of her life and tried to think of a time where her broken family had been molded perfectly. But for the moment, she couldn't think of any happy memories. She was sure there was a time when the family had been once happy. Probably before Papa left when Arlette was six and Maman went crazy after Marianne was born.

The Durands had survived these crazy years. Papa would send an occasional post card, saying he was in Spain or Luxembourg or some other country in Europe. Maman started staying in her room, becoming a recluse. And Arlette was left to be the strong one. Seven years older than Marianne, she became more than a sister to her. She had to be a mother, father, and sister. Marianne didn't understand that Papa had left until she was ten years old. Then, Arlette was seventeen, and she was about to graduate from high school. She longed to become a journalist and go to college in Paris. She tried to get Marianne to come with her through a fight with her mother. But Maman disagreed. She said it was right for Marianne to live with her since she was her mother. Arlette was lost. She left home, discouraged and unhappy. Then she went to college and learned to be an undercover reporter. But the paper was displeased with her. They fired her after she worked with them for a year and a half. Even more unhappy, she moved back home, where Marianne had suddenly grown up. She was tall at the age of 14, almost 15, and had plenty of friends and even a boyfriend to get her away from her crazy lifestyle.

What upset Arlette the most was that Maman had disappeared from her room and left Marianne alone for awhile. Marianne had said she could take care of herself, but Arlette could see otherwise. By the looks of Marianne, Arlette could sense she had an eating disorder. Eating less and less, looking skinny and pale, and her once baby blue eyes turned red did not equal a healthy Marianne.

Arlette paused as she peered up at the 5th floor, where the Durands lived. What was she doing back home? Her mother had come back, but things still didn't look any better. Marianne was grown up, and their father was still sending postcards, but now from the United States, where he announced he married a woman and they had two small children. At the sound of footsteps, she turned to see now seventeen-year-old Marianne standing there.

"What are you doing?" Marianne asked as she followed Arlette's gaze up the 5th floor.

"I was just thinking about what it was like when we were living there." Arlette shook her dark hair in disgust. Her brown eyes swelled up with tears. "I was thinking about how tough it was to not have Papa there and Maman yelling at us when we were younger."

Marianne nodded, but of course could not understand. She never knew their father.

"How are things now? With Maman?" Arlette asked. She hadn't been able to tell her mother and sister's relationship since she came home almost two years ago.

"I heard her talking about getting a job." said Marianne coldly. "That would have been nice of her to decide when you left for college."

"How did you get by barely living without Maman?" Arlette didn't understand how Marianne could have managed life on her own at the age of ten.

"Grand-mere and Grand-pere came by all the time when you left. They tried to get me to live with them on the countryside, but I couldn't go. I had to make sure Maman wouldn't leave me. And she didn't. They kept giving me money and food and other things to survive. It just wasn't the same. I wanted to run away. And I almost did." Marianne recalled. "I wanted to live with Sevan or try to find Papa." she added quietly.

Arlette flinched at the sound of Marianne's ex-boyfriend. How could she live with him when he had a rough home of his own? But Papa?

"I knew I couldn't track him down, with all his postcards. That would have been too easy. But since I didn't have money to escape…" Marianne trailed off, reading Arlette's thoughts. "I had to grow up."

"I understand that." Arlette nodded. "Why couldn't you find me? I was still here, living in someplace better."

"I know." Marianne said. She looked down at her shoes. "I'm really sorry, Arlette."

Arlette sighed. The words she'd been waiting to hear from someone, anyone, over the past twenty-four years of her life.

"I know you are, Mari. Should we go inside?"

Marianne shrugged. "I really don't want to deal with her right now. I know that one day, you dream of us being a perfect family again, but I don't think it's going to work out."

Arlette looked at Marianne with sympathy. "Marianne, we don't have to be exactly perfect in this world. No one expects us to. Everyone makes mistakes. We've made some, our parents have made some. I don't want us to be perfect. I want us to be…" she looked for the right word, "…civil. I want us to be civil."

"How can we when we can't find Papa? He sent Maman and I a postcard last Christmas."

"There must be an address, Mari." Arlette said gently.

"I know there is. I just don't like to think of him with another family living far away from us."

"I feel exactly the same." Arlette put an arm around her sister's shoulders. "Come on. Let's go inside. I'll make you cookies."

"That's okay." Marianne said. "I really don't want pity cookies. I think I might go over to Francesca's."

Arlette smiled at the mention of her sister's best friend in all of Paris. She was really glad that Marianne had a friend even though she was going through a lot at home.

"Okay. Well, will you be home for dinner? I think I might want to talk to Maman and get her to eat with us."

"Sure. See you later." Marianne gave a little wave, and Arlette saw her sister's blond curls bounce as she walked down the street.

Arlette sighed as she went inside of the old building. She stopped by the front desk and talked to the old doorman, Henri, for a second.

"Arlette! Quel surprise!" the old man smiled at her. Arlette returned his smile. She could remember him as being the only father figure in her life.

"I'm going up to the apartment. I'm making dinner for Marianne…and my mother, I hope." Arlette stared down at the wooden desk.

"Is she feeling any better these days?" Henri asked. It was no secret that the Durands had family problems in the apartment building.

"I don't know. Haven't seen her in a couple days. I was over at Caroline Nollet's house."

"Ah. I see. If you see Sylvane, tell her I said hello."

"Will do, Monsieur Henri. Au revoir. Merci!"

Arlette made her way up the elevator six floors and stopped at apartment four. She hesitated before unlocking the door and entering. Everything looked fairly safe. The parlor was a little dusty but the faded pink couches were still there. The kitchen, small but still useable, was bright with yellow paint splashed across the walls. She carefully teetered down the hall and knocked on her mother's door.

"Qui est-ce?" Maman demanded.

"C'est moi, maman. C'est Arlette." Arlette paused, hoping Maman would come to the door and let her in.

The door opened. Her mother peered at her with dark eyes and her bun was now showing streaks of grey. She was wearing an old pink bath robe and her blue slippers. Arlette looked around her mother's small room. The bed was mussed and the television was blaring with French game shows. The blinds were closed shut, even though it was late afternoon.

"Why are you here?" Maman asked abruptly, disturbing Arlette's looking.

"I came here to ask if you would join Marianne and me for dinner." Arlette said calmly, but firmly. Her mother wouldn't scare her after not being here for five years.

Maman laughed. A high, crackly, laugh.

"You're truly spoiled, Arlette. For thinking you can have whatever you want. The answer is no. Bring me dinner!"

"No." Arlette was surprised to hear herself defying her mother. She was a grown up now. She could make her own choices and she had been able to for quite some time. "No." she said again. "I will not bring you dinner. In fact, you won't be able to eat until you see me and Marianne at the dinner table."

Maman laughed that evil laugh again.

"Who are you to be telling me 'no', Arlette? I'm your mother."

"Funny, you haven't been my mother for the last seven years. And since I came back, you were never my mother. I was my own mother. I was taking care of myself and Marianne." Arlette said defiantly.

"Get out! Get out, get out, GET OUT!" Slyvane screamed at the top of her lungs. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Get out of here!" And with that, she pushed Arlette out of door and slammed it on her face.

Arlette stood in the hallway as she looked at her mother's closed door. She felt like kicking the door down and demanding her mother for millions of explanations. But she knew that wouldn't happen. She went into the bathroom, angry and confused. Deciding to splash water on her face, she forced herself to calm down and get a grip.

Then she made a decision.