Leaving New York

Chapter 36

The next day was a scramble like most Sundays; Ari had begun to take the boys to La Maison Vertex, a Protestant parish near the house. He'd told me he was tired of Islam several times—there was too much violence and terrorism. He just wanted to be a normal, bland Frenchman. I just told him any religion has its good and bad points. Chloe went as a substitute mother, a role she enjoyed. Gar would always drive out to see Lion in the rehab place. Once everyone was gone, I read "La Connexion" and thought about the chicken dinner the night before at Phillipe's.

The phone rang.

"May I speak to Jack?"

"Speaking. Phillipe?"

"Yes."

"What's up, man?"

"I was wondering if you could help me on this little job?"

"Ummm . . . today?"

"It is just to take down some scaffold. Adam was going to help me, but he had to do something else. I can come to get you and pay you."

"What time?"

"Eleven?"

"Sure."

"It's just a few hours' work. Thanks, Jack."

An hour later, Phillipe honked, and I trotted to the truck.

"Thank you, thank you, Jack. The customer is impatient, plus the rental place will charge me for a whole week if it's not ready to be picked up tomorrow. It makes me mad Adam canceled. I remember when he was a toddler—he would kick the ball to me so hard. But sometimes, he needs a kick in the pants."

"That's all, kids."

"And adults."

Out of the blue, Phillipe asked, "Do you ever miss New York?"

"A little."

"Like what?"

"Looking at the Hudson—that's the river with the Statue of Liberty."

"France gave her to you."

"Very good."

"I know my history . . . well, a little bit. What have you done here?"

"The Eiffel Tower, the zoo, coupla museums, Sacre Coeur, Giverny—Monet's House."

"With who?"

"Mostly people in the house."

"Any lady friends?"

"No."

We got on the A14, the freeway running west. "It's a little ways to the house--Mountesson."

"Do we take it down then load it into the truck?"

"No, the scaffolding company picks it up tomorrow."

We got to a large one-story house, a tiled roof affair with a pretentious white wrought iron fence surrounding it.

"She is ugly, no?"

"Kinda."

"A tree fell smashing part of the roof."

We pulled in the driveway as an older woman hobbled down the front stairs.

Phillipe looked at me, "Stay silent; she will start bitching if we listen very long."

"Bonjour, Madame Bonnard--this is my helper, Jack."

The lady said, "I'm glad you are here to take it down—my neighbor has been complaining about that mess."

"Oui, Madame."