Ripples in the Rain

Chapter Seven

Our family arrived in Paris the following week. My daughters and I stayed at Yves' mother's townhouse at the 7th Arrondissement, one of the most expensive areas in Paris. I spent a lot of time with my ex-mother-in-law, buying party supplies, cooking, preparing the house for guests and many other party preparation tasks. Her birthday party required a lot of planning and she invited a lot of people. Nevertheless, she was an old hand in the party game, gaining experience every time she hosted a big party - and she'd done many of them.

My daughters, who both spoke French fluently, enjoyed their Paris excursion immensely. They went out with their cousins every day. They walked around the Latin Quarter, bought ice cream at Île-de-France or just staying at their cousin's houses and caught up with each other. Sophie had always looked up to her older cousin, Mathilde, who was 16 years old. She was a beautiful, stylish French teenager. Mathilde thought Sophie was a cool Brookynite. She'd always wanted to go to New York and asked Sophie endless questions about it.

While I was playing the role of a good daughter-in-law, my ex-husband went off with his latest conquest to the French Riviera, returning only a day before the party and telling his parents that he had to do a work-related trip. I just played along with his lies, not caring about his antics any longer.

The morning after the party, Simone, Yves' mother, asked me to come down and meet her at Le Salon, which basically meant ' the living room' and sat me down beside her on the antique couch.

"Pippa, I need to speak to you about something important," she said.

"Sure, Simone, " I answered as I poured some tea on her cup and placed a single cube of sugar in her tea.

She placed her hand on mine and said, "I know about you and Yves."

I looked at her blankly and asked, "What do you mean?"

"You're not together anymore," she said. "I can tell."

I blushed, feeling totally embarrassed that our lie had been discovered. "I'm sorry, Simone. We thought it's best to keep this away from you." I added, " We are still friends and we share equal custody. I think we're both happier this way."

She shook her head firmly. "My son is not happy. I know he can't help himself when it comes to pretty girls but most French men are like that. Do you think my husband doesn't sleep around?"

I didn't know how to answer that rhetorical question, so I just waited for her to continue talking.

"I'm not going to force you to get back together with him, but I think you should stay away from that homeless looking actor you've been seeing."

My face must've completely registered my look of surprise. Was she talking about Oscar? How did she know?

"Oscar Isaac is his name, n'est-ce-pas?" She continued, "I read it on the internet. On some gossip site." She added, "Don't worry, I haven't told Yves. He knows nothing."

I remained silent, still confused and unsure of how to respond. She must've seen paparazzi pictures that were taken when Oscar and I were walking on the park on our first date.

"You don't have to take my advice," she said, in perfect English. "But actors are a lot of trouble. And even though you're not married to Yves anymore, you are the mother of my grandchildren. So you would always be a part of this family."

"Thank you, Simone," I said quietly. "I will take your advice into consideration."

That night, I locked myself up in my room and began to watch some of Oscar's movies, starting with 'Inside Llewyn Davis'. After I finished the first movie, I watched 'A Most Violent Year' and then 'Ex Machina'. Nearly six hours worth of movie watching, but I still wanted to see more. I also realised that my feelings for Oscar grew exponentially. He was a really good actor. As a movie buff, I was familiar with a lot of movies and watched many great actor's performances but only a few were as good as Oscar was. He really embodied his characters well and he was always the best thing in a movie, whether his role was large or small. How did he manage to be that good? And he also had an amazing voice. I made a note to download the soundtrack of 'Inside Llewyn Davis' on iTunes before I go to sleep. It would be nice to have his voice caressing me while I drifted off to sleep.

In a fortunate stroke of serendipity, my phone rang while I was browsing on iTunes to look for Oscar's music. And guess who was on the phone? It was Oscar himself.

"Hola, Pippa. It's me, Oscar."

A huge smile appeared on my face as I said, "Hey there, nice to hear from you."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm actually about to download the soundtrack of 'Inside Llewyn Davis' before you interrupted me," I said, feigning annoyance.

"Sorry," he said with a giggle. "But I miss you terribly and I need to hear your voice."

I asked, "How was the shooting?"

"It went really well. Today was my last day. I will be totally free and clear when you're here tomorrow."

"I just have to say this," I said. "You really should take on more acting jobs. You are such an amazing actor. And I'm not just saying this because I have feelings for you."

"You have feelings for me?"

I knew there was no way he could see me blushing but I still felt embarrassed.

"I'm just teasing you," he said with a laugh "I wish you're here so I can show you how I feel."

I smiled. It seemed like I was always smiling when he's around.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," I said.

"Hasta mañana," he said.

I was listening to 'Hang Me Oh Hang Me' from the 'Inside Llewyn Davis' soundtrack when I heard a series of loud knocks on my door. It was Yves, carrying two mugs into my room and placed them on my bedside. He sat down beside me and handed me one of the mugs.

"Chocolat chaud?" He asked, offering me a mug of hot chocolate.

"Okay," I said. "Thanks."

"Maman talked to me just now. About you and that Hollywood actor."

My blood started to boil when I heard his tone. Yves thought that Oscar was not in his league. To him, actors were just pretty people who made a living by playing pretend.

"Yves, I wish you and your mum stop calling him 'an actor'. He has a name, it's Oscar. He is a lovely man."

"I don't want him hanging around my children. He's bad influence."

"As opposed to them being around your precious Juliette?"

Yves raised his voice slightly as he said, "Merde, Pippa. Juliette is nothing to me. She's just a fling. How many times do I have to say this? She doesn't spend any time with my girls." And then he lowered his voice as he said, "Can you say the same about Oscar?"

"No," I said firmly. "He's not just a fling."

"Tu l'aimes?" Yves asked me if I loved Oscar.

"I don't know, Yves. Like I said before, it's none of your business."

"So you do love him. Mon Dieu, cherie, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."