Le Colibri

THREE (Gabbi POV)

"Adrienne, you're here..." I smile at the woman who's buttoning her cardigan over her chest standing in front of the door of Shakespeare & Co., her partner's book shop. Her dark blonde hair looks almost brown under these November grey clouds that are threatening us with rain. Her grey-blue eyes look up scared since I've caught her off guard but one second later her mouth smiles at me and she winks.

"Of course I'm here, Gabbi, I'm always here... except for the hours I spend in my book shop." I nod while flashing a grin that almost looks like a grimace. I'm so jealous... Her relationship with Sylvia is one of the most stables I know, they've been together for more than ten years, and is based on human love but also their love for art and literature. There's nothing better in the world... They're absolutely perfect for each other, probably only Gertrude and Alice can beat them in years spent together and devotion for each other... and in coming up with ridiculous but cute pet names. I could kill for a relationship like that. "I have to go back to my shop, I have a meeting with Hemingway to talk about the new book he's writing right now about the Great War... He's worried because he fears no one would want to publish it since he doesn't talk about it in glowing terms, it's more of a veiled critique..."

"Is he writing a non-patriotic and ironic text about our great heroes? It's going to be a scandal of epic proportions..." I chuckle because I know that is what the author actually wants, most likely.

"It's rather a pessimist novel but you're right, they won't like it. Anyway, Sylvia is waiting for you... Get in, it's cold outside." Adrienne waves her hand goodbye while I take a look at the books exhibited behind the wide windows before climbing the step that leads to the entrance door.

Walls are covered from floor to ceiling with wooden shelves and books, magazines and albums are piled up on every table, chair and free area. Several pictures of modern and dead authors are hanging above the small fireplace and there's an old print with Shakespeare's face above the door that leads to the back room, it can be otherwise. One night, while having a drink at Gertrude's home, both booksellers confessed that their great drama was the lack of space, unsold books accumulate year after year but, at the same time, they couldn't stop buying more and more in order to satisfy the demand. They started to lend their books too and, even if it seems impossible, it made them sell more volumes because people who love literature end up wanting to have their own library at home but they prefer to know what they're buying in advance. Besides, they organize lively discussions, meetings, lectures and exhibitions of all kinds and they've become the most active centre of the Parisian cultural life.

"Gabbi, get closer to the fire, you must be freezing..." Sylvia is a woman with brown hair and eyes that always seemed vibrant to me, she's so full of life she's unable to remain still, apart from being the most optimistic friend I've ever had. "Sit down where you want, it's a miracle I've managed to get rid of the books on top of that table and chairs... that was my finest achievement last week... do you want a cigarette?"

"Not now, thank you... although I'd appreciate if you give me a glass of water. I think I'm still suffering the remains of the hangover I got after Natalie's dinner at Maxim's," I answer while taking my coat, gloves and hat off. I've decided to pick out a mix of styles today and, even if I'm wearing a white shirt, a scarf around my neck and a jacket with a masculine touch in a terracotta colour, the dark brown skirt and high-heeled, lace-up shoes matching are extremely feminine.

"The truth is that it was a very interesting night, we've met familiar faces and other new, it's always a pleasure to find talented people like your friend Joe." Sylvia gives me my glass of water and I drink thirsty. "I have your books here... It's a weird selection... Are you planning a trip to Italia or Russia?"

"No," I answer laughing. "Well, I'm not ruling out the possibility of a trip to Italy next spring... but I'm just interested in those subjects."

"Let's see what we have here... The flowers of Evil by Charles Baudelaire... Do you know he wanted to call this book 'The lesbians' since he intended to write about the deadly sins? Seriously, some authors are too obsessed with us. Anyway..." She shakes her head amused. "Rome, Naples and Florence by Stendhal... it's not the most reliable travel guide if you want to visit the country because he made up most of the stories he wrote but it's a fun read. And The love life of Empress Catherine the Great of Russia by princess Lucien Murat... This is the book that confuses me the most, I didn't know you were intrigued by racy stories between old queens and the guard officers... Of course, it's said Catherine was a promiscuous nymphomaniac that was capable of getting laid with her own horse, although I don't believe that: it is quite impossible to bring a four-legged stud to your bed."