Leaving New York

Chapter 26

Chloe and I ate dinner while we worried about Gar. He still wasn't home by seven; Chloe started to call the police when the front door slammed shut.

"Gar?" Chloe ran towards the front hall. I could hear them.

"Gardner! We were worried sick, honey."

"I just needed some peace. I'm starving."

"Hey buddy, glad you're back in one piece." I hopped up, making him a plate of corned beef and cabbage as he plopped in a chair.

"Thanks, Jack."

Chloe put her hand on his shoulder as he looked up at her. "I'm sorry I've been such a dick."

"Where did you go?"

"Out to Château de Malmaison."

"Josephine's house--you always liked it there."

"Nobody was there—it was lovely. I ate lunch at Café Avril." Chloe sat down and held her husband's hand.

"Then I went to see Lion. He quit the band. I think he's using again."

Chloe said, "I'm sorry."

Gar turned to me, shoveling food in, "He was the rebel—he and my dad never got along, even when he was rich and playing stadiums. I told him everything--me getting the sack and our money problems. He was his usual distracted self. 'You'll work it out, Gardner.' I thought of Ari's mother, then said, "Guys, it may not be the best time to bring this up, but while you were gone, I drove the car all over Paris. I wanted to see all of it, not just the pretty places. I found the refugees."

"Deidre's into that--she had a benefit for some family from the Congo."

"So, you know about the issues."

"Just the racism and snobbery. Some French people think their God's gift to the world. I guess nationalism is in every country."

"Would you help someone if you could?"

"I got to help myself right now, cowboy."

"Yeah. I hate to ask you this, but I sort of need to know about what we talked about last night.

"Like what?"

"Would it be better for me to pay rent or keep doing Mimi and Francois jobs in exchange for room and board? I sure like living here. I was afraid when you got home, I wouldn't have a place to live.

"What about the travel you planned?"

"I'll take some day trips."

"Suit yourself—we love having you."

"Thanks."

I went to my room, flopping on the bed, perplexed about what I thought was a pretty straightforward question: pay rent or keep playing housekeeper, cook, gardener, driver. I got no answer. What did I want to do? I did like making dinner, just as I had at the station, going to the market, working in the garden, just as I had as a kid at my grandmothers in East Tremont by the Bronx Zoo. I hated the cleaning—hated it.

I washed my face then walked to Parc Monceau to clear my head. I saw Ernie, the hot pilot, sitting spread eagle on a bench. It was unseasonably warm; he wore a tank top showcasing his broad shoulders. I started to go the other way, but he saw me.

"Hey, John."

"It's Jack."

"Sorry. What's up?"

"Getting some air."

"A lot on your mind?"

"Yeah."

"You're looking pretty sharp—been hitting the weights?"