The French Apartment

The French Apartment - Chapter 7: Virgins

Seventh day in Paris, afternoon.

Fourth arrondissement (Le Marais).

"Wait, didn't you... ask me to meet you here?" I asked Vivienne. She only stared back at me with open-mouthed confusion.

I stood awkwardly beside the table as Vivienne's friends turned to me. The three boys stared at me with expressions ranging from mild curiosity to complete apathy. The blonde girl grinned wide.

"So

this

must be the famous James!" she said and held out the back of her hand to me to kiss. "I am Manon. Enchanté."

Manon was undeniably pretty. Perhaps, I thought, not quite as stunning as Vivienne, but Manon clearly paid far more attention to perfecting her own appearance and was much more confident in her results. I recognized Manon's type. She was used to thinking she was the prettiest one in the group and treated her role as if it was a royal position. I may not have been cool enough to be close friends with girls like Manon, but I knew my role in these situations: to play along.

"Enchanté," I replied in what I knew was an awful French accent and bent over to kiss the back of her hand. The boy next to her scoffed and ran a hand through his long hair.

Manon tapped a phone on the table, almost distractedly, as she examined me.

"Manon!" Vivienne yelled as recognition dawned in her voice. She swiped the phone, and Manon grinned as she let Vivienne take it. Vivienne unlocked it immediately. "I'm never giving you my phone again!"

Manon chuckled. "Aw, why not? Otherwise I'd

never

have met the boy. I mean if you're going to keep talking about him all the time-"

"Manon!" Vivienne's voice was a deep warning growl, but Manon only laughed in response.

"Why did you have Vivienne's phone?" I asked Manon.

"Because-"

"Because my mother would not stop texting me," Vivienne answered with an exaggerated eye roll. She huffed and scrolled through her messages. "Manon, what else did you send him?"

"Nothing," Manon said with a shrug. "What else do you think I would send him? Nudes?"

The boy beside Manon made some sort of dismissive comment in French.

Vivienne thrust a hand to me, palm open. "Phone," she demanded. I unlocked it and gave it to her, apparently to confirm I didn't have any Manon nudes on my phone.

"You two text a LOT, don't you?" Manon asked, grinning.

"God, shut UP!" Vivienne said, and returned my phone, satisfied.

They exchanged words in French. I didn't need to understand the words to tell that Vivienne's anger was bouncing harmlessly off Manon's impenetrable calm. The boys were chatting among themselves now, already bored with the two girls' exchange.

"Well nice to meet you all, maybe I'll join you next time?" I waved to the table and turned to leave.

"Where are you going? You just got here!" Manon said, offended.

"I think Vivienne just wants to be with her friends," I answered. I could tell Manon certainly did not approve of my answer.

I turned to Vivienne. "Have a good time with your buddies, and maybe we can talk later? Maybe we could grab a drink before you get back home?"

I turned to leave, but a hand grasped my wrist. I turned and Vivienne nodded to an empty table behind me.

"Get that chair."

I tried to prevent my face from revealing my immense relief.

The metal chair screeched on the stone as I pulled it over. Vivienne refilled her wine glass and placed it in front of me.

"Santé!" I said, raising the glass in salute.

Vivienne hid slightly behind her hand, amused and embarrassed. "Your accent James, my god..."

"Well who is he, then?" the boy next to Manon asked. He sounded less interested in knowing who I was and more interested in getting the introductions over with.

Vivienne presented me to the others.

"James, this is everyone," Vivienne introduced.

"Hey everyone," I said, waving.

"Everyone-" Vivienne's eyes narrowed, and I saw mischief behind them. "This is James: my mother's lover."

I'm sure my face must have gone beet red.

"Lucky boy," Manon said with a knowing grin and sipped her white wine.

I expected to hear gasps of shock and horror. I expected a barrage of questions, teasing, accusations. But none came. It certainly seemed like the boys gave little heed to the comment. Either they thought Vivienne was just making a silly joke, or they didn't care, or maybe in France this sort of thing was common... I had no idea. But Vivienne was greatly enjoying my embarrassment. And clearly the only one at the table who might know the truth was Manon, judging by her interested, knowing gaze.

A boy at the far end of the table stood slightly and extended his hand to me.

"I am Jean," he said, with a friendly smile.

"Nice to meet you," I said, and took his hand. I was glad I didn't have to do the European cheek kissing ritual with all of them.

Next to Jean was a shy straw-haired boy named Henri. He kept close to Jean which gave me the impression that they were a couple. The long-haired boy next to Manon was Xavier, her boyfriend. He was undeniably handsome and knew it. He displayed an air of exaggerated nonchalance as he leaned back in his chair, as if he were trying to channel a young Marlon Brando.

Manon ordered two more bottles of wine and the group fell into chatting in French. I relaxed when I realized no one was going to actually ask me about Claudine. Vivienne would periodically lean over to translate their conversation, but it only really consisted of gossip. I would have had little to contribute to the conversation in any language. But I pretended to be interested because every time Vivienne leaned over to translate, her hand rested on my thigh. I didn't remember a word of what she actually said.

"So James, what do you eat? We are going out for dinner soon," Jean asked. It was the first time any of them had spoken in English since the introductions.

"You are going to eat more?" I asked, looking around at the table full of mostly finished plates of appetizers, bread, mushrooms, and olives. "Haven't you all been here all afternoon eating and drinking?"

"That was only lunch," Manon explained, as if that should be obvious.

"Ah. Well I like-"

"-anything with beef," Vivienne answered on my behalf. She patted me on the shoulder, like a cowboy patting his favorite horse.

"I am capable of eating other things too, actually," I countered.

"So you are saying you do

not

want a hamburger right now?" Vivienne asked, with an exaggerated eyebrow raise.

"Well I mean... I would still eat a hamburger," I admitted. "Do you have those here?"

"We do have McDonald's, yes," Xavier said, and made a scoff of disgust.

"I wasn't referring to fast food necessarily..." I mumbled.

"He also eats steak," Vivienne contributed.

"I can do either, sure-"

"You know," Manon swirled her white wine as she spoke to no one in particular. "I've always thought of steak and hamburgers as sort of... related foods. You know?"

"Related?" Jean asked. "Because both are beef?"

"Yes, think about it," Manon said as she swirled her wine. "Steak is more refined. Sophisticated. Hamburgers are made of the same thing, but they are more simple, yes? More approachable. As if... well, it is as if the steak is the mother, and hamburger like its daughter."

"Manon you are being ridiculous, as usual," Vivienne said.

"Wouldn't they be father and son?" Xavier leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "Beef seems like a manly food, not feminine? "

"But beef is from cows that are women. The bulls are men," Henri said, his only contribution in English so far.

"Ah, yes," Xavier agreed. "Then sure, like mother and daughter. What does it matter though?"

"Well, because I want to ask James," Manon turned to me as a smile widened across her face. "What do you prefer? Steak, or hamburger? Mother, or daughter?"

"Manon!" Vivienne scoffed and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"What? I only want to know what we should eat for dinner!" Manon said: a picture of innocence.

Xavier shrugged. "Hamburgers are for poor Americans with no taste, or no money."

Manon burst into laughter and Vivienne was red with anger.

"No offense, my friend," Xavier said to me. I was sure he called me 'my friend' because he had already forgotten my name.

"What about a nice salad?" I suggested.

"Ugh, rabbit food," Xavier said dismissively.

"I could go for steak," Jean said, and Henri murmured his approval as well.

"Three votes for steak," Manon said confidently, as if it was decided. "James, that's alright with you, isn't it? I'm sure it is!"

Agreeing with Manon felt like I would be wronging Vivienne somehow, but I hardly wanted to demand that they all go to McDonald's on my account. I struggled for an answer that I felt would cause the least trouble.

"I mean sure," I began, slowly. "Vivienne introduced me to steak frites for the first time the other day, so maybe if she knows another place around here that's just as good-"

"Steak, then!" Manon announced with an excited clap. "Perhaps you have refined your tastes a little since coming to France, hm, James?"

"Good for you, friend," Xavier said, nodding approvingly at me and raising his glass of wine in salute to me. Apparently, graduating beyond hamburgers was a noble endeavor.

Vivienne scowled at Manon, but the boys paid no attention to it. Xavier took control of discussing the logistics of where to go for dinner, and Vivienne played no part in the conversation.

I felt like I needed to make my voice heard, but couldn't get a word in edgewise, so I banged my fist on the metal table. The plates jangled and both bottles of wine nearly toppled over. Waiters and patrons around us turned to stare at the commotion. Manon arched an eyebrow at me warily.

I held up a finger. "In defense of hamburgers-" I began.

"That is the most American statement I have ever heard," Xavier scoffed.

"McDonald's is

not

all hamburgers," I began quickly before anyone else could cut me off. I launched into a full-throated defense of the possibilities of what hamburgers could be, and explained that there were such things as exceptional, high-quality hamburgers, and that when these were done well, I could eat one every day.

"Every day? You would get fat," Jean said, a little horrified.

"It would be worth it," I explained.

A grin peeked out from the corners of Vivienne's mouth.

"Ah," Manon said, nodding sagely. "So James is the kind of boy who might like to eat a hamburger in the morning and then a steak in the evening? I thought so!" she winked.

Vivienne reached for a mushroom covered in red sauce and prepared to hurl it at Manon. I saw Manon's eyes widen in warning. If Vivienne actually threw it and stained Manon's pretty sky blue blouse, that might be crossing a line.

I put a hand on Vivienne's arm.

"You said you would show me the Marais," I suggested. "What if we let them eat their steak, and we'll go somewhere else for dinner?"

"Excellent idea," Manon replied, settling back in her chair but still eying the mushroom warily. "But come back to my place before we go dancing."

"Dancing?" I asked.

"James, will you'll join us?" Jean asked.

I looked to Vivienne, who gave me a nod and shrug as if to say 'why not?' Despite all Manon's teasing, apparently it hadn't actually upset any power dynamics between the group.

"Sure," I said. "If Vivienne wants to."

"Meet at my place at midnight and we will get ready," Manon said.

"Wow, that late?" I asked.

"The good clubs do not even open until midnight, but we don't want to be early," Manon explained, as if I should know that already. Manon leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "Get her drunk or something, please, James? She's in a bit of a...

mood

today."

Vivienne looked ready to hurl the mushroom now for real, so I quickly picked it out of her hand and popped it into my mouth. Vivienne turned to me and huffed as she cleaned her hands on a napkin. She stood up and I saw she was a little wobbly on her feet. She must have been more drunk than I realized, but I suppose they had been drinking all afternoon.

"Are you alright?" I asked, helping her to her feet.

"Do you want to see the Marais or not?"

"Lead on," I said.

* * *

We strolled through the Marais as the last hour of daylight bathed the cobblestone streets a burnt pink-orange glow. Vivienne was lost in thought, and we walked in silence towards nowhere in particular. The clothing stores began closing for the day and the restaurants were filling up for dinner. I managed to sneak a text off to Claudine while Vivienne was lost in thought, just to let them know we were alright and wandering the Marais.

"What a strange neighborhood," I said, looking around. "Half of this neighborhood looks like it came straight from a hundred year old picture book... and here we have a Uniqlo."

"The Marais tries so hard to be cute," Vivienne said with a snicker as we strolled underneath an arch on the sidewalk covered in overwhelming amounts of pink flowers. The arch had no purpose I could tell, except perhaps to give people a background for Instagram photos.

"I mean, it definitely does, but still..." I gestured to an adorable little red painted corner café. Patrons were lounging just inside the large open windows, under an overhang of thick ivy that coated the upper floor. The little restaurant could have been the subject of a nineteenth century painting. Maybe it was. "Are you saying that is

not

cute?"

"Alright, sometimes it can be a little charming," Vivienne agreed reluctantly.

She looked different than usual. Softer and more... feminine, perhaps? I knew little about makeup, but I thought she might have been wearing more than usual. Then I realized she was wearing a long skirt that went down to her ankles. It flowed around her legs and picked up the occasional breeze, sometimes highlighting the curve of Vivienne's small butt. She also wore a white blouse with a lacy top that fit her body tightly, making it difficult for me to keep my eyes off her chest. It was as if she had grown up a few years in the day since leaving the apartment.

"Caught you again, James," she murmured as we walked.

"Caught me what?"

"Staring."

"Hey I was just looking at... alright yeah I was staring."

She snickered.

"I've just never seen you wear a skirt before," I said. Then, I remembered the argument in the apartment. "Wait, weren't you wearing your pajamas when you stormed out? Did you buy a new outfit for something?"

"It's all Manon's, I went right to her place after I left," she said, looking down and raising her arms wide, evaluating herself in the unfamiliar style. "Luckily we're almost the same size. What do you think?"

"I think... she's a little mean," I said.

Vivienne laughed. "She is just... Manon. I meant about the look. She thinks I am one of her projects and never misses an opportunity for a makeover."

"Oh! Well I think the skirt looks hot on you. Fun to see you in something different."

Vivienne looked horribly offended. "Oh, so you don't like how I normally look?!"

My eyes widened in panic. "No! I only meant-"

Her anger melted into a grin.

"You're teasing me," I said.

She snorted, and I let out a sigh relief.

"I can't help it, you're so easy." Vivienne looked down at the ground and I saw her grin widen a little. She spoke softly, just over a whisper. "And I did like your defense of hamburgers, by the way... even if it was completely absurd."

I gave her an exaggerated little bow and continued walking for a bit. Eventually, I looked around, wondering where we were.

"You know, so far I think this tour of the Marais needs some work," I said. "I don't think you've shown me a single thing."

Vivienne scoffed and looked around us. "Over there is a very old building. And... that's a park. And that's a tourist, and that's a bakery, and over there is... well probably a museum."

"Did you just point out a tourist?"

"Well no French person would wear such an ugly coat," she said with derision.

"Well, alright, but what kind of tour guide points out tourists, like they're sights to see?"

"The Vivienne tour, of course. You want your money back or something?"

"Alright what kind of museum is that?"

"Who knows?" Vivienne shrugged.

"Well... do you want to check it out?"

"Maybe next time," she said with more sincerity than I expected. "It would be nice to go to a museum where I am not on a school trip, actually. But it will be closing now anyway. And besides I'm getting hungry. So, I think the tour is over."

"Hm," I said, and looked down to see Vivienne's outstretched hand.

"What? No tip?" she asked.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time I gave a hot girl a tip even if the service wasn't..." I stared warily as she raised an eyebrow at me in warning. "Well I have no cash, only a card," I finished.

I didn't want to reveal yet that the card was her mothers'.

She shrugged. "Alright, buy me something, then."

"Wow, I got such a pushy tour guide," I muttered.

She shoved me playfully and I looked around until I caught the tantalizing smell of bread in the air. The bakery behind us was nearly closed and their window display was mostly empty, but they still had a few pastries left and a few straggling customers inside. It smelled incredible, even from outside. "How about a pastry?"

Vivienne nodded her approval and pulled me into the store. She looked over the options hungrily.

"Have you had a canelé?" she asked. "I haven't had one since I was a girl."

"A can of what?"

Vivienne snorted and pointed to little dark helmet-shaped pastries. They looked cute, but compared to the other more elaborate looking delicacies, I probably wouldn't have picked one on my own. I paid, and tried to hide the card, but Vivienne caught it.

"Why do you have my mother's credit card?" she asked, her expression darkening.

"She was worried about you," I said. "I said I'd help make sure you were safe, and she gave me her card."

"Safe from what, exactly?"

I shrugged. "I think... well I think she's not a big fan of your friends."

Vivienne rolled her eyes and thought for a moment. She pointed to a wine store across the street. "Come on then, credit card boy. I'm in the mood for rosé."

I, or rather Claudine, bought us a bottle of rosé. Then we made our way to the bank of the Seine, which apparently was not far. The sun was setting in the distance, and the riverbank was filling up as people came to watch. We found a spot relatively secluded, but still able to see the sun drop over the buildings in the distance. Vivienne peeled a canelé slowly apart and held half up to my mouth. I opened my mouth and she shoved it hard and aggressive, putting her fingers briefly into my mouth. She ate her half and watched me struggle and recover.

The pastry had a sweet, caramelized exterior and a soft, eggy interior. Once I got over the shock her fingers shoving it at me, I began to enjoy it.

"These are really good," I said, "but why did you shove it at me?"

"For being a liar," she said as if it was nothing. "I didn't want you having too much fun."

"Why am I liar?"

"Because you made a promise to me that you had no intention to keep," she responded with a nonchalant shrug. "But it's alright. I suppose most boys are like that. I should probably get used to it."

I sighed deeply, and she looked back over the river. We both knew what she was referring to.

"I am still a virgin, technically" I mumbled. "I did want you to be my first. I still do..."

"Technically?" Vivienne's scoffed as she watched the sunset. "Are you denying you are my mother's lover?"

I sighed deeply and shook my head.

"I'm not denying it... I just haven't gone 'all the way' with her. That's all."

"Ah," Vivienne turned to me. "I know who you are, now!"