Timothée [Sequel!] [Timothée Chalamet]

chapter two. adele.

When my mother picked me up from the airport, I was bombarded with questions.
"Have you been crying?"
"Adele, what's wrong?"
"Where's the other person you were talking about?"

I was shocked that she dropped it after about 15 minutes of questions. I brushed all of them of.

We had driven throughout Paris in her miniature car, my forehead pressed against the window as I solemnly watched other cars pass by us. I saw lovers sitting on benches and walking together while holding hands, friends chattering amongst themselves with giggles every now and then, sometimes a cigarette would appear.
When we reached her apartment, a woman opened the door. She was a ginger with hair that fell beautifully down her back, and freckles that laced from her wrists to her forehead. The inside of the apartment smelled like food that she had been cooking.

"You must be Adele! You're just as beautiful as your mother described. I'm Amelie..." She kissed both of my cheeks and soon after scooped me into a firm hug. She smelled like expensive perfume. Hints of cigarettes filled my nose. Before I could speak, she rushed us into the apartment closing the door behind us and grabbing my suitcases. As she walked into the spare bedroom, I looked up at my mother.
"Are you two friends? Or..."
She sighed, crossing her arms and look down at me. She seemed to be lost in thought as she examined the expression across my face.
"We'll talk about it at dinner, Adele."

I had excused myself to the bathroom before dinner, locking the door behind me and checking my phone for the first time since I'd landed. Another voicemail from Timothée. I listened to it.
I knew I was being stubborn, his voice was laced with sorrow, anger and resentment. I wanted to be mad at Florence. For showing up like that and ruining a perfectly good evening. I wasn't alone for the first time, and somebody loved me. She took that away from me.

The way Timothée had looked at her when he saw her standing there. The way she looked at him. They looked like long lost lovers. She should've just kissed him to seal the deal.

Another text had came in from him.

Timothée
I'm coming to Paris. I'll
send you a link to the hotel
that I'm staying at.

The message sent butterflies through my stomach. I ignored them and walked out of the bathroom, seeing Amelie and my mother setting the table. They were talking, and her cheeks were a bright pink.
"Hey," I interjected hesitantly, sliding my phone into my back pocket along with both of my hands. I strolled over to the table and helped them set the table, listening into their conversation. They tried to code it in French, but failed to realize that I also understand.

"When are you going to tell her, Lauren? I'm sure she's already been asking questions."
"I plan to tell her while we're eating... Don't be so suspicious."

They whispered amongst each other as I folded the napkins, immediately feeling as if my mom were a stranger to me. If Amelie and my mother were, in fact, dating... Then it turns out I never knew my mother as well as I thought I did.

Dinner started off awkwardly. We were silent as our forks and knives clinked against the plate. Amelie had served us Coq Au Vin. It was delicious. She had served white wine alongside it.
Mom was the first to break the silence. "So, Adele. Amelie and I would like to talk to you about something important. It's very serious." Amelie nodded quickly, clearly a stranger to parenting. She smiled desperately.
"...Okay."
"Well, Amelie and I... We've been friends for a very long time. She was at your father and I's wedding a long time ago. But throughout the years I—" She sighed, her head dropping down to look at her untouched plate of food. She looked ashamed. I touched her hand. "What is it mom?" Her head lifted once again, locking eyes with Amelie. "...Throughout the years, Amelie and I had hidden our love for each other, chérie. I was cheating on your father for years. I- was ashamed of who I was and I knew my parents would never accept it." She sighed once again, as if letting everything out to me had lifted a weight from her shoulders. A smile spread across my face, validating her experience. I tried to show her that I was proud of her with my eyes, and I glanced over to see that Amelie was wiping a tear from her eyes with a napkin.
"How did dad find out?" I asked curiously, feeling bad for bringing up such an awful event. "He heard a phone call that I shared with Amelie's brother. I was going to divorce him the day that I left. I mailed him the papers. Adele.... I am so sorry for leaving you there. I'm so sorry. I knew that it was bad, but I didn't want you to be in the middle I just—" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mom... Don't worry, I had a place to stay."

I stood up from the table after waiting for mom to finish her food and cleared it out of respect for Amelie letting me stay here with them. As I cleaned, she poured more wine in my glass winking. I chuckled.

We sat in the living room together on the couch, watching a french film. Mom fell asleep on Amelie's shoulder, hogging the knit blanket that we all shared on the couch. It was nice. Peaceful. I was happy.