Exit Laughing.
Mathias' eyes flickered open in the earliest of morning light. Catherine lay next to him in their/her bed, her copper hair falling across her face. He was so tempted to draw her to him. But the memory of yesterday...of yesterday's crying...my god ALL that crying...made him shudder with embarrassment Still, he gently and briefly slipped an errant lock between his fingers before he turned away and got out of bed as quietly and smoothly as he could. He gathered his shoes and jacket and made his way quickly...very quickly, because all that uninterrupted sleep had his bladder sending urgent signals...down the long corridor to Hippolyte's old room
He slipped into the bathroom of the room and relieved himself at length. Washing his hands, he glanced up into the mirror and found that he looked….awful. Really awful. So he washed his face as well and patted it dry with one of the useless, tiny 'guest towels' and found that he had only made the situation worse. He then splashed very cold water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair, which improved his appearance not at all, but at least made him feel better.
He came out of the bathroom and glanced around the room. It's bareness gave Mathias a jolt. Besides the bed, a desk and the dresser there was nothing in it of Hippolyte. Gone were the childhood football star posters, replaced by Tour De France riders and pop stars...mostly female... then Motor Cross champions and finally, just before he moved out, a bevy of Cinema posters and memorabilia. Now there was nothing of anyone. The rest of the apartment still teemed with fixtures of his...their past life...books and paintings and furniture and espresso machines, but Catherine must have decided that since Hippolyte was never there anymore, to start the scouring process there. It was completely expected of course, but still utterly depressing.
He shook his head, and left the room...remembering at the last minute that he had left his shoes and jacket. He picked them up from the bed but as he left a second time, something caught his eye. There, mostly hidden behind a box of tissues on the dresser, a photo was tucked into the mirror's edge. Mathias didn't even have to look at it closely to know what if was. But he took it from the mirror and brought it to the window where the light was growing stronger.
It was a picture he knew well but hadn't seen in years. Taken in...Martinique? The three of them were on vacation together. They were on a beach with a rock strewn cove at one end, and the then 9 or 10 year old Hippolyte had boldly asked two pretty, bikini clad teenage girls to take their photo. A family photo, he explained, innocently. With a laugh, Mathias handed over his camera to one of the two giggling teens.
The first picture she took...which still resided in one of the huge photo albums that Catherine sometimes organized, showed the 3 of them...Catherine sitting sideways on a rock edge to Mathias's right and slightly above him. She wore one of his shirts as a cover-up, (it looked VERY sexy on her), and a precariously perched straw hat. Mathias was on a flat rock in swim trunks. Hippolyte was behind and between his parents, and all three had composed themselves into that 'there is a camera pointed at me so I better smile' look. And that was the picture in the photo album. But then ... Hippolyte had given his mother a gentle nudge and she landed abruptly in Mathias' lap.
Whoever that young teen was, bless her, Mathias thought, because she had pressed the shutter again. And that second shutter click had captured Catherine landing in Mathias lap...one, long elegant leg pointing skyward and her hat suspended in air as if on a string, his arm making sure she didn't go over backwards. Hippolyte was now behind his father, holding the universal two fingered "Gotcha sign" above his head. Photo bombing before there was photo bombing.
But the best thing the photo captured that day was that they were all laughing...not just smiling, or even grinning...laughing outright. This was perhaps the golden moment in the golden years of the Barneville family. Mathias thrived at ASK, rising quickly in responsibility and financial renumeration, yet still found time for his family. Catherine truly enjoyed being a mother to her smart and lively son, while also able to carve out an adult life with both new and longstanding friends. And Hippolyte? There was little to throw a shadow over his young life.
Where, Mathias asked himself as he gazed at that moment in that faded photo, where had all that gone? The laughter and ease with each other….the joy in each other's company. His life had become a puzzle where none of the pieces fit...and worse yet, threatened to tumble out of his hand… out of his control completely.
When had it started...this Jenga block tottering? It wasn't just when Camille had shown up...he knew that. And in fact, that day on the roof, when Camille first announced her intention to be an agent, she had offered him an out. "If my being here makes it too complicated for you, just tell me. I'll look for a job at another agency." But he hadn't taken it. Why? Simply because he had come to enjoy his daughter's presence despite its risk? Or maybe on some level he knew, that well before Camille's arrival, the slow unraveling of so many family bonds had started.
And now to him, the puzzle pieces were ever more complicated and contradictory; Catherine, Hippolyte, Camille, ASK, his clients. Noemie. To want them all in his life...to need then all, seemed unresolvable. And dangerous. Each threatening the other.
He sighed and went to put the picture back, but changed his mind and slipped it into his shirt pocket instead. He put on his jacket and still carrying his his shoes went into the kitchen, found a piece of paper and wrote on it three things he could think of that he knew were incontestably real and truly felt; "I'm Sorry." "Thank you" "Don't Worry."
He laid the note gently on the bed and after one more glance at the still sleeping Catherine, quietly let himself out, not even putting on his shoes until he was half way down the stairs.