Lettre à France

Day -310

She could tell her husband was starting to get more nervous the closer they got to their final destination, could seem him straightening and restraightening his tie out of the corner of her eye, could feel the way his leg was bouncing, moving the seats in the back of the car. Gently, as not to startle him, she moved her hand to rest on his knee, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"You don't need to be nervous," Olena told him with a smile, realizing the irony of the inversion of their conversation two years ago when she made this car journey for the last time. "They're lovely."
"It's not them personally that I am worried about," Volodymyr replied with a sigh, moving his hand to cover his wife's. "Although," he started with a teasing glint in his eye, "are Emmanuel and I even going to get a word in at lunch with you two?"
Laughing she replied, "we'll try to behave. I promise."
"Mhmm," he skeptically responded.
"I said 'try.' I didn't say we would succeed."
"Didn't you just talk to each other a couple of weeks ago?"
"That was a work call, and you know it!"
"And this isn't?" He raised his eyebrow at her, the only facial gesture she could really read with his mask covering the lower half of his face.
"It's not the same, though. It seems so much more remote by video call, and honestly, it's not like you want to talk about how you are doing after you spend the call discussing in detail how to join a women's equality charter."
"And how are you doing?" He asked seriously, a little concerned that she felt the need to gossip like that, talk about them like that, with someone else, someone he hardly knew.
"I'm fine. We're fine," she stressed, reassuringly. "It's just nice to talk about it with someone who really understands what this is like."
"I could see that," he allowed.
"It's not like we tell each other our darkest secrets and spend the hour braiding each other's hair," she rolled her eyes at him. "It's a warm professional relationship."
They heard the driver softly clear his throat, indicating to the couple in the back that they needed to start paying attention to the world outside again, as the car turned into the courtyard.
With one last gentle squeeze, they let go of each other's hand before allowing themselves to be led out of the car towards their hosts.
Even under the mask, she could tell Brigitte was beaming at her, drawing a covered wide smile from her in response.
"I hate that Covid protocols mean I can't hug you," Brigitte said as she grabbed on to her forearms, squeezing lightly.
"It's good to see you," Olena replied with a smile before it was time to swap partners.
"Very nice to meet you," Emmanuel greeted, dipping his head towards her hand in his signature baise-main gesture. "I have heard so much about you from Brigitte."
"All good I hope?" She asked, suddenly a little nervous.
"She loves you!" Emmanuel laughed as he started to corral the foursome for a group picture at the top of the steps.
When they finally ducked inside the front entryway, safely out of earshot of the cameras and prying eyes of the public, Emmanuel turned towards his wife who had already moved towards Olena's side instructing, "the call with Angela is scheduled to last an hour, so we'll see you for lunch at 13:00."
"Got it!" Brigitte smiled, turning on her heel to start moving towards her office, with Olena in tow.
"Don't be late!" He called after them.
"Pot, meet kettle!" She joked back, turning around quickly to blow him a kiss to soften the blow of her remark, before they turned the corner.
"Pot, meet kettle?" Olena asked, confused.
"It means he's being hypocritical. He's always late," she explained, shaking her head like a woman who had fought, and lost, this battle many times before. "Mark my words, we're not eating at 13:00. Now, tell me, how are you doing?" She asked as they settled onto the sofa.
'She was right,' Olena thought, stomach grumbling as the two women sat ready to eat, husbands nowhere in sight.
"I'd say we should start without them," Brigitte leaned in conspiratorially to add, "but Emmanuel -"
"Would be very upset!" The man in question completed. "Sorry we're late."
"And you dared to question my punctuality?"
"I will not make that mistake again."
Olena sat there fascinated by the exchange playing out in front of her, an ordinary exchange, the kind you would see with any long-married couple, one like she would have with Volodymyr, but one she wasn't expecting, nevertheless. Of course she knew their story, it was hard to avoid all the column inches the world over that had been dedicated to dissecting their relationship, but she wasn't expecting to see the President and First Lady of France so domestic in this staid diplomatic setting.
They were acting like they were with friends, a feeling that was only confirmed as the lunch progressed with talk that became increasingly personal.

"How are your children?" The former teacher inquired of her friend.
"They're doing well, thank you for asking."
"Make sure to really treasure the time you have now. Mine have been out of the house now for what feels like forever, and I miss them very much."
"We saw them last week!" Her husband interrupted from the other side of the table. "They came over for dinner Friday night and stayed through Sunday afternoon!"
"It's not the same, and you know it!" She paused for a minute before adding with a smile, "wait until you get grandkids. You get to spoil them rotten, and send them home before you have to deal with the consequences of the sugar rush."
"How many grandchildren do you have?"
"We have seven," Emmanuel answered, seeing his wife had taken a sip of her drink in the meantime.
"Can I ask, how does that work?" Volodymyr inquired.
"How does what work?"
"Well, you are," he trailed off, trying and failing to think of the politest way to ask the question.
Smiling kindly, Emmanuel pushed ahead, "it works like any other step-parent or step-grandparent. I love them. They're mine, no matter what age we all are or what biology says. It's as simple as that."
Lunch continued amicably, but on other, less sensitive topics, for the next 20 minutes before the guests had to take their leave.
"You're off to Versailles next, right?" Brigitte asked as she walked with Olena towards the front exit and her waiting car.
"Yes," she smiled, touched her friend remembered.
"You'll have to let me know after how it all turned out. I'd test it myself, but unfortunately, I wouldn't understand it."
"Do you go to Versailles often?"
"Not the palace, but there is a residence on the grounds Emmanuel and I use on the weekends. It's where we were with our children and grandchildren last weekend.""It's nice that you are all still so close-knit."
"Our family is our refuge, but I'm sure you know a little something about that," she said with a wink as she saw the look Volodymyr was sending towards Olena, reaching out and squeezing her arms lightly in a Covid safe pseudo "hug" one last time.
Hours later, when she got back in the car after touring the exhibit with the new audio guide, she saw her phone light up with a new message.

BM
So?!?

She smiled as she typed back a quick reply:
It was perfect. Thank you for your support.
I didn't do anything. This was all you!
A second text quickly followed:
It was wonderful to see you two today. See you soon?
Definitely :)