twenty-six

When I rang the doorbell to the little apartment where I was raised, my mother greeted me with a broad smile and a big hug. I was apprehensive about what I was about to tell her. I knew that in a few moments our harmony might be dashed to pieces.

“Sit down, darling, I’ll be with you straightaway. I just have to see how supper’s doing. It’s veal stew . . .”

“Mom! You didn’t need to go to so much trouble. I said we could just have something simple.”

“It’s absolutely no trouble, and I love making it.”

I gave in. As ever.

I sat down on the sofa in the small living room, legs crossed and my anxious heart keeping time with the big art deco clock that dominated the room, brought back from a visit to New York.

My mother came to join me, delighted at the idea of a girly chat.

“There we are! Now I’m all yours.”

When I cleared my throat, she noticed how uneasy I was and a shadow flitted across her face.

“Are you all right, darling? You look—out of sorts?”

“The thing is . . . I’ve got some important news for you.”

“Oh my god. Are you leaving Sebastien?”

“No, Mom . . .”

“So he’s leaving you?”

“Mother,” I hissed, annoyed. “Why do you always have to project your anxieties onto me?”

Her face grew darker still.

“I’m not projecting, darling. I’m just being realistic about life. Just look at what your father did to us.”

“But that’s what happened to you, Mom. It doesn’t mean things have to be the same for me.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. So what is this important news of yours? Oh, I know! You’re pregnant.”

And why did she have to keep going on about that? Couldn’t she accept the fact that I didn’t want another child?

“No? OK, so tell me what it is,” she said, taking hold of my hand.

“I’m going to quit my job.”

She snatched her hand away.

“You’re not, are you?”

“Yes, Mom. You see, some time ago I met an incredible man—”

“You’re cheating on Sebastien!” she said indignantly.

“Mother! Stop interrupting and let me explain. Of course I’m not cheating on Sebastien. The man I met has been counseling me over the past few months to help me take stock of my life and try to recapture the happiness I had lost.”

“What do you mean, lost? I thought you were happy. Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t understand . . . You have a job, a husband who loves you, a wonderful son . . .”

“Yes, Mom, I have all that and I thought I was happy too. But then one morning I woke up feeling completely empty but terribly restless at the same time. Thanks to Claude, I’m finding a meaning to life again.”

“Claude? His name is Claude? And what does he do?”

“He’s a . . . routinologist.”

Silence.

“It’s a new approach to personal development. It’s very effective,” I said, trying to justify myself.

“It sounds like nonsense,” she immediately retorted. “You know you have to be careful . . . there are so many charlatans about these days. They say they’ll make your dreams come true and give you a better life, but once you’re hooked . . .”

I knew she’d say that.

“Mother, it’s not like that at all. When will you stop treating me like a little girl! You don’t have to be frightened for me. I know what I’m doing.”

Another silence, which set my nerves jangling.

“I’m finally going to fulfill my dream, Mom. To start working in children’s fashion.”

“You do realize that it’s a pretty crowded area, don’t you?”

I could tell she was veering between anxiety and anger.

“Yes, but I’ve come up with a unique concept. Do you know what leasing is?”

“Leasing? No . . .”

“It’s a practical, economical, and sustainable system that allows people to rent things, with the possibility of buying them later on. It’s already very common with car dealerships and toy makers. In the current financial crisis, parents don’t want to buy luxury clothes for their babies. It’s too expensive when they only use them for such a short period of time. But I’ll give them a chance to rent them, paying only between five and fifteen euros a month. I’m sure it’ll be a huge success!”

I was getting carried away, but it was obvious that my mother didn’t share my enthusiasm.

“And that’s what you’re giving up a permanent job for? When all your life I’ve tried to make you understand how important financial stability is . . . Do you realize you could destabilize your family if it doesn’t work out? What’ll happen to Adrien if you run out of money?”

“Why must you always imagine the worst? I need you to believe in me, Mom! Not have you shooting down all my ideas. You’re always so pessimistic.”

“What does Sebastien think of this?”

“He’s supporting me. We’ve done the math to make sure we can get by in the early days.”

“But it’s such a risk . . .”

“Yes, but isn’t life itself a risk? You have to understand that to me this project is a huge breath of fresh air. I feel as if I’m living again, as if I’m finally being me.”

No response. It was like pissing in the wind.

“OK, I think I’ll go now. I can see you’re not going to accept this.”

She didn’t try to stop me. It was as though she’d been hit with a sledgehammer.

Out in the street, a wave of conflicting emotions swept over me. I was sad that my mother didn’t understand me. Annoyed that she never trusted my ability to make a go of something, and yet at the same time liberated because I had had the courage of my convictions. I had been true to my dreams and to the real me. And at last I had stopped trying to please her. I was daring to live my own life and not one that my mother had imagined for me. Despite this, I was still a little uncomfortable in this new skin of mine. I was excited about my new project, but what would happen if in the end I failed? What if my mother was right? These thoughts niggled away at my happiness. I had to talk to Claude about it: Surely he would be able to help?