Chapter 20 – Paris Always is a Good Idea
The weeks went on, and before they knew it, Camille had to start another module. Her internship in Hammersmith had been uncomplicated – she had quite enjoyed her time there. The team there had been fun to work with – although there had been one person Camille hadn't particularly liked, she had managed to get on well with everyone, and she had become friendly with Claire rather quickly. They had spent many of their lunch breaks together, chatting about their respective experiences, and every once in a while, they had also talked about private matters.
However, it hadn't taken Claire very long to notice that Camille wasn't keen on the topic of boyfriends and relationships, and since she herself was single and didn't really care that much to discuss that, either – apart from making general remarks – that suited her just fine. From Camille's occasional remarks, she knew that she had a partner, but she didn't ask for more details, and Camille didn't volunteer any information. They had more than enough things to talk about, and it didn't bother either of them that they steered clear of talking about this particular aspect of life. Claire figured that Camille would talk about it if she felt she should know, but since she didn't, she just accepted it.
Easter approached, and Isabelle and Alain renewed their invitation – they wanted Camille to come and visit them over the long weekend. When she was hesitant and didn't accept the invitation spontaneously, Isabelle sensed that it was about Richard – Camille had told her about their relationship, and it was obvious that while she wanted to come over to Paris, she also wanted to spend time with Richard… but she didn't want to make her friends feel obliged to extend the invitation to him. Isabelle solved the 'problem' by doing precisely that – she was very curious to meet Richard, anyway, and this was the perfect opportunity.
She coaxed "Come on, Camille – you know we've got the space! You've seen our guest room – it's big enough for two, although it's not particularly large! And you know we will make an effort and speak English so Richard will not feel excluded – Alain has just recently mentioned that he'd need a little more practice, so I know he won't have any issues with that… Just ask Richard, and we'll take it from there!"
Camille wasn't so sure about Richard's reaction, but she promised to ask and let them know.
So, on the next Saturday, when they had got up from their mid-morning breakfast after swimming and started doing the dishes together, she brought up the topic, and just as she had expected, he wasn't particularly excited about the idea of travelling to Paris and meeting her friends. He didn't brush her off or say no immediately, but it wasn't hard to see that the thought made him uncomfortable.
Instead of blowing up or trying to persuade him – as she would perhaps have done a few years ago – she tried another, more long winded and laborious strategy this time, hoping that taking the long way would do the trick – and solve a few issues that he seemed to have – once and for all. She tilted her head to one side and said with a smile on her face "Mind you, Richard, there's nothing to be afraid of…"
He looked up from the plate he was scrubbing and asked a little warily "What makes you think I'm afraid?"
"Oh, nothing in particular," she responded. "But I know you aren't keen on changes, and that includes getting to know new people who might judge you… It doesn't bother you in your professional life as you know you're an excellent detective, and when you're on a mission to find out the truth, it's not important what people might think of you, but you're not so sure when it comes to meeting people in a more private setting…"
He sighed. She knew him all too well, and of course one didn't have to be a clairvoyant or a psycho-whiz to see that communication and people skills weren't his strongest sides.
She continued patiently "Listen, Richard, it's totally okay if you don't want to come. I'd love to show you around all the places that are dear to me – just like you have shown me places around here that you like and that mean something to you – and I'd love to introduce you to my friends so they'll get to know you and see why I'm so happy with you by my side. But if you'd rather not come, then I'll understand. However… they are my friends, and they are important to me. You are the most important person in my life, but I care about my friends, too, so I want to spend time with them. I cannot halve myself, and I want to spend time with you and with my friends in France, so the best possible option for me would be if we all get together. No man is an island, entire of itself, Richard, and there will always be other people in my life, requiring attention and deserving my affection… That doesn't make my love for you any smaller or less important, you know… You understand that, don't you?"
Slightly reluctantly, he nodded. Rationally, he understood. But emotionally, he wanted to have her all to himself. He knew that this was foolish. And actually, it was beneath him – he knew that, too.
Camille was well aware of his inner struggle – she hadn't chosen this particular strategy on a whim. She knew only too well that he might have rebuffed her if she had made a more direct, straightforward approach. By making him think about his own attitude and behaviour, she had a much better chance at succeeding in her mission… She was sure that he wouldn't want to see himself as being needy, possessive and petty-minded.
And really, he was none of that – he had been so generous and giving towards her over the past months, and he always made sure that she wouldn't feel she was being 'kept' when they went out and he paid the bill or when they attended some exhibit and he purchased the tickets. She had paid sometimes, too, but overall, he had silently decided that since he earned more, he'd pay more often – and after a few discussions that had got them nowhere, she had finally learnt to accept without protest – but she was far from taking his generosity for granted. She appreciated it, and she always made a point of coming up with a little treat for him in return, inviting him for tea and cake or cooking a meal for him that he particularly liked.
He had also been generous with his time – whenever she had had questions about the projects at her course, she had known she could turn to him – he would take the time to explain and give her more background information. That had been very helpful, and she was extremely grateful for his patience.
And besides all that, he had been tender and giving in their intimate encounters, too – there was nothing selfish about him in that aspect of their relationship… He always made sure she was happy and fulfilled, and his efforts to pleasure her were more than just satisfying…
But this situation was not about being generous in a financial or material context, and it wasn't about finding the time to explain something, either, or about making her feel loved… it was about emotional generosity, about being able to 'let go' and accept that - while he was on top of her priorities - she wanted to spend time with others, too.
When they had sat together after their memorable housewarming dinner, they had agreed on taking things slowly and doing things without one another, and he had been relieved that she had understood his need for solitude – but exactly there was the point: When he did things without her, he mostly pursued solitary activities – like watching a favourite TV show, reading a book or listening to music she clearly didn't enjoy. He sometimes went to panel discussions about historical, astrological or scientific topics that he found interesting, but there was usually no real interaction with others involved in these events, apart from superficial chit-chat.
Camille's activities without him were different – there were her studies, of course, and she did quite a few things on her own – like (window) shopping, going for walks, or reading - but she also socialised with people from her course or the respective team she worked with, and she maintained communication with her mother as well as with French friends via Skype and e-mail. Of course, writing e-mails was a solitary thing, but you had to focus on someone else while writing, so again – it was a form of socialising and interacting as you were engaging in a conversation.
Richard didn't mind her going for a drink with other people – it didn't take away anything from their time spent together, and he didn't feel that he was competing for her attention – when she was with him, he had her all to himself, indeed. And that was fun, it gave him the feeling of being safe and secure, of being loved and cherished… of being her one and only… and he didn't want it any other way, no matter how immature it sounded.
He knew very well that it was unfair to expect one person to fulfil one's every need – you needed different friendships, different acquaintances, different attachment figures – you couldn't really focus only on one person, that was too demanding and suffocating for the other person. He was aware of that, but being aware of something and putting it into action were different shoes, obviously. He tried hard not to be too demanding, too needy, too clinging, and it worked most of the time – he felt much safer about their relationship now than he had a few weeks back… but it was still difficult sometimes. He knew that he had a lot to learn – and that he was applying double standards as he wanted to have time to himself, too – it wasn't Camille's fault that he had no friends or acquaintances or even just 'buddies' to do things with.
Camille always had been an outgoing person, and Richard had always been somewhat introverted. They both accepted their differences – they knew that they were part of their mutal attraction.
But Richard's introversion partly was built on mistrust against others, it wasn't entirely based on self-sufficiency – as he liked to claim sometimes. Camille knew better, and he knew that, too…
So, although he wasn't too keen on going to Paris and meeting her friends, he felt that he should perhaps make an effort. After all, compromises were part of life, and he knew that if he didn't try now, she'd be disappointed, and it would bring a discord that could easily be avoided, leading to further resentment, most likely…
And it would only be a long weekend – of course, it would be a hassle to travel when so many others travelled, and it would be inconvenient in so many respects, but it would not last forever… And maybe they actually were nice people – after all, they were Camille's friends, and they had kept in touch for a long time – despite the distance - so there had to be something about them. And if he and Camille stayed together – which he hoped sincerely – he would have to meet them eventually, anyway. So he might as well get it over and done with now…
So, after he had washed a coffee mug with devotion and put it on the draining board, he asked tentatively "What are they like?"
Camille took a deep breath and avoided sounding triumphant when she answered – she knew now that the first hurdle was taken, and he was at least considering coming along… and she could be very persuasive…
"Well, Isabelle and I met during my training all the years back in Paris, so I've known her for a long time. I'm not as close to her as I was…" – she faltered, but then continued – "as I was to Aimée… or let me rephrase this: it's a different kind of closeness, and we are good friends. She's rational and pragmatic, and she has a great sense of humour… she's quite the sniper and will come up with a funny remark when you least expect it. She still works for the police – she's in an internal department, though, coordinating national and international workshops. She's got short blond hair, and she's like a small round rubber ball, short and plump, but always dressed very elegantly. And she loves shoes! Alain is tall and bulky, and he hasn't got much hair left – he says that's because living with Isabelle is so challenging! He's a historian, and he works for one of the smaller publishing houses in Paris – plus he writes articles for magazines on a – how do you call it… - on a freelance basis. I don't know exactly what kind of project he currently focuses on, but I'm sure he'd be excited to tell you more. When I visit, we usually talk about current events, and I don't know enough about history to be a valuable discussion partner, anyway, but since you graduated in history, I'm sure you'll find plenty of topics to talk about…"
She knew that this was her trump card – he hardly knew anyone with whom he could discuss history on what he called 'eye level'…
He turned his head to look at her, raised his eyebrows and said "A historian? Now, that sounds intriguing…" Then, as an afterthought, he asked "And do they speak English?"
Camille stifled a smile and responded dead seriously "Yes, of course they do. They are not entirely uncivilised, you know, albeit being French. Isabelle said that Alain would appreciate getting some more practice as it's been a while since he last spoke – although he reads quite a bit in English. And Isabelle speaks English from time to time due to her work. I can't possibly say how good they speak it – we naturally speak French together - but they are willing to make efforts. Actually, we all will speak English when you're around. You know, they are not inviting you just to make you feel like an outcast by speaking French, they want to get to know you, after all, so…"
She watched Richard putting another mug on the draining board and tackling a plate next. He was silent for a while, trying to sort his thoughts and emotions. Camille waited. Finally she asked very softly "What is it, Richard? I can see that you're worrying about something…"
He gave her a sideways glance and sighed. Then he finally came out with what bothered him.
"What… what if they actually think I'm an idiot and you're a fool for wasting your time with me?"
Good grief… she had suggested earlier on that he was afraid of people judging him, but she hadn't thought he'd admit it so openly to her. They had really come a long way since those days on Saint Marie when he had usually tried to hide his insecurities…
She put down the mug she was currently drying and hung up the dishtowel. He hadn't looked at her, but continued doing the dishes, solemnly busying himself with wiping a knife, scrubbing a fork, cleaning a spoon…
With a determined movement, she took a towel and dried her hands. Then she said softly "Richard… come on, look at me…"
He looked up, and she held out the towel to him. Hesitantly, he let go of the cutlery, lifted his hands from the sink and grabbed the towel – she didn't let go, but helped him dry his hands before she took them into hers and said gently, but resolutely "That wont happen. They will rather wonder why a bright and witty man like you will want to spend his time with a disorganised airhead like me who's irritating, who jumps to conclusions and who doesn't know how to pronounce 'Yorkshire Pudding'!"
He smiled at the memory of her standing in the doorway of his shack and inviting him to come to a feast that Catherine had prepared to celebrate because he had found Delilah Dunham's murderer… She had written the names of the dishes on her palm because she couldn't remember them – the terms hadn't meant anything to her as she hadn't had any idea about what they included. It had sounded funny and absolutely adorable how she had said 'horseradish' and 'Yorkshire Pudding' – her French accent had been irresistible…
"I doubt your friends will think of you that way…" he said, and she responded with a shrug "Well, they know me, and they know about my weaknesses. But they still like me. And you are the man I love, and so they will be curious, of course, but they will also be benevolent and ready to like you. They will make an effort and try to get to know you, and they will understand that you are nervous – because everybody would be nervous in a situation like that. So, don't be afraid, Richard. They won't bite. Be prepared for jokes about the English, and you can certainly counter them with jokes about the French, but as long as you don't take their jokes personally, all will be well…"
He gave her a little smile. She moved closer and asked "Do you know, Richard, what I thought when I saw you trying to feed your lizard cat-food that day?"
Raised eyebrows and a sigh were his initial reaction, then he replied "I'm sure you thought I had gone entirely crackers. I remember how I said that while I never knew what you thought, I'd know precisely what you were thinking then…"
She smiled and said gently "I know, and I responded that you had no idea. I'll tell you now… I thought you were perhaps the weirdest and most annoying man I had ever met, but surely also the brightest and most endearing one. You were so – forgive me, I know it's not a word that men generally like, but you were so cute, spooning cat-food on those saucers, giving that wild little lizard the chance to decide what he might like best. And in the end, he didn't want any of that and stuck to fruit and bugs… but he still stayed with you. You were trying to make a friend, and I loved that…"
Another crooked smile was his response, then he said "I guess you're right… I wasn't very successful, was I… and my relationship with Harry was always a little ambiguous. I liked him in some ways, but he could be terribly irritating in others."
Camille giggled and replied "You know, Richard, that's what friends are like. As I just said, Isabelle and Alain know me, and although I can be a pain in the neck, they still like me. And you… you know me, too, you know about my strengths and my weaknesses, and you still… you still…"
She paused and waited, her head tilted to one side, looking at him expectantly.
He pulled her closer, leaning in, finished her sentence whispering "I love you…" - and closed the gap.
Three weeks later, Camille and Richard were on the plane back from Paris. It had been a little challenging to find flights at a convenient time with the budget airline that they had had to travel with – they had re-scheduled Camille's flight to Paris for Good Friday eve, and it hadn't been a problem to book the same flight for Richard, but the way back to London had been a bit more difficult. The flight that Camille had originally reserved had been entirely sold out by the time she had finally wanted to book, so they had ended up returning to the UK much later in the day than anticipated. Richard had not been impressed with the airline's general service, but apart from that, it had been a surprisingly enjoyable trip.
He had almost chickened out again when Camille had sat him down and made him book his flight with her laptop, but now he was glad that he had come along to meet her friends. Alain and Isabelle had been very nice and hospitable, but they had not insisted on spending every minute together with their visitors. Camille had taken him to all sorts of places, she had showed him around and introduced him to a few favourite places. There hadn't been time for museums and art galleries, and the weather had been too good, anyway – why spend time indoors when it was so balmy outside? He couldn't resist Camille's logic here – and so they had spent time walking around in parks, sitting in cafés, exploring the booksellers' stalls along the Seine and buying treats in the chocolate shops…
Alain and Isabelle had come along one afternoon, and they had had a pic-nic in the Jardin de Luxembourg. They had sat on a bench, relaxed in the sunshine and watched people passing by – families, runners, young people on bikes... Alain and Richard had discussed an article that Richard had recently read in a magazine about medieval history, and Isabelle and Camille had exchanged their views on the most recent political scandal that had unsettled France. After a while, they had all turned to less serious topics again – and eventually, they had taken out their food and started to eat.
When Camille had fed him a piece of brie and given him a radiant smile while Alain and Isabelle had kissed spontaneously, he had finally reconciled with Paris…
For the longest time, the city had been on top of his 'never again' list.
He had only visited the 'city of love' very briefly once before, and that had been years and years ago… he had been in his last year at university, and his 'gang', the group of friends he had hung out with, had made a weekend trip to Paris. He had been sceptical about it, but then had tagged along as he hadn't wanted to be the odd one out again – he had been in that position for way too long, and he hadn't wanted that any more. Plus, there had been this girl that he had had feelings for… confusing feelings… and those had made him join the others on that trip.
It hadn't been all that much fun for Richard since the girl he had set his heart on back then had pretty much ignored him during their stay in Paris – he had had high hopes for romantic walks along the Seine, and he had imagined that they'd sit together in little street cafés, sipping their drinks (not tea, obviously… back then, he had been convinced that the French couldn't brew a decent tea… it had been much later in his life that Camille's mother had shown him otherwise and proved him wrong!) and talking about all sorts of things… He had also thought they'd go to art galleries and museums together. After all, Sasha was reading French literature – she would be interested in art and such, wouldn't she?
None of that had happened, though. His 'friends' had only been interested in cheap booze and enjoying the nightlife, and so he had spent most of the time on the evenings alone in the dingy hotel room that he had shared with Roger and James… reading and feeling a bit let down. Usually, they had come back to the hotel in the middle of the night, dead drunk. Richard had also spent much of the days on his own as the others had to sleep it off – pretty much the only one who had been halfway sober had been Angela – and he hadn't been too keen on her, so he had tried to avoid her and ventured into exploring Paris on his own. Since his French had been very limited, it hadn't been so easy, and he had been relieved when they had all returned to the UK.
It had been totally different this time. He hadn't been lonely – he had actually got along very well with Alain and Isabelle – after his initial self-consciousness had been overcome - and just like Camille had predicted, they had welcomed him as a friend – they had put up with his sad attempts at speaking at least a little bit of French (he had tried to learn a few basic phrases in order to show that he was making an effort, and much to his surprise, it hadn't been as hard as he had thought it would be! Of course, Camille had teased him in private that her 'lessons' in the bedroom had obviously encouraged him to try using some less specific vocabulary…), they had respected his little quirks, and they had done everything to put him at ease. He had not felt left out, weird or eccentric in their company. And although there had been jokes about the English, nothing of what they had said had been offensive.
Why had he always thought he didn't like France and he'd never return to Paris? This experience only proved that you should never say 'never'…
As he sat on the plane back to London this time, holding Camille's hand, he couldn't help but feel sorry for his younger self. How sad that his first trip to Paris had been such a failure, and how sad that none of the dreams he had had back then had come true for him…
But then, once again, he realised that it was silly to dwell on the past. Maybe things hadn't always worked out for him, but it was useless to wonder what would have been if circumstances had developed differently. His path had taken him into a different direction than he had envisioned back then, but in the end, it had taken him to Camille, and he was happy now, so why worry and fret about things he couldn't change any more?