XLII

Frédérique had been pacing in the waiting room of the emergency wing of the hospital for more than fourty minutes when the doctor finally came out and calmly explained that what Marie had suffered wasn’t something to worry about and was probably due to the stress of the days prior to the wedding. He recommended she stayed under observation for the following two days and then at least five more days of quietness, if possible, in bed.

Emilie had accompanied Frédérique and the rest of her family to the hospital so she followed Frédérique down the corridor after her friend silently handed her her purse and strode hurriedly toward the bathroom. Emilie heard a door being slammed and then, sobbing. She waited outside with concern, but remained quiet and attentive: she had witnessed how Frédérique had been holding back the tears stoically at having to face the worst of her fears, only this time it was her brother and his bride who had been exposed to it. Thankfully they had been spared the suffering, but the fact that it was Frédérique’s loved ones who had been exposed must have been what took the best of her.

After a few minutes Emilie finally heard the sobbing become softer and knocked on the door. Frédérique emerged a couple of minutes later freshened up, but still red-eyed.

“Are you alright?” Emilie asked worriedly and Frédérique nodded silently.

In the course of that afternoon and the following morning Frédérique and her father, together with the collaboration of the rest of the family, managed to cancel and reschedule the arrangements for the wedding and call the guests. Frédérique’s mother couldn’t help but comment that they should’ve hired someone to arrange everything in the first place, but neither Frédérique nor her father regretted their decision – they both shared the hands-on attitude. It helped a lot that it wasn’t a huge reception so everything was sorted out by Saturday afternoon and they rescheduled for the Sunday after the next.

Frédérique didn’t leave Marie’s side until Sunday evening when her future sister-in-law was finally allowed to go home. The following day, Frédérique decided to take a walk around the vineyard, it always helped her feel pure and free from suffering. Her heart warmed when she remembered how, despite all their suffering and anguish, Jean and Marie were there for each other and Richie’s words came to her mind as if emerging from under the water: “I got you, babe. That’s all that matters”. Her tummy fluttered.

That night it was already past 3 a.m. when Frédérique sat on the Berger style armchair of her bedroom with a Jane Austen book open on her lap, juggling her cell phone. Fils the salope. Frédérique wasn’t old fashioned, but cell phones really did nothing for romance these days. She turned it off: her mother traditionally woke her up in the morning by knocking on her door and leaving a tray with breakfast outside the door. It felt good to be home and finally be able to turn off that stupid thing.

…

On Tuesday the band had had what Jon liked to call, in The Sopranos’ usage, “a sitdown” in his hotel suite and everyone had had a little more wine than usual. After the rest of the band members had left, Richie stayed for a while longer and both men were talking between laughs about Jon's injury at the Meadowlands' show when finally Jon noticed that Richie became more insightful, a slight cloud of sadness in his eyes - the same he had seen in Frédérique’s. Richie realized that Jon was reading him and it would be a matter of seconds before the conversation derived into Frédérique, but he didn’t want to deal with that anymore – it still hurt too much. Before any of them was able to put their thoughts into words, Richie rose from his seat and kissed Jon goodnight.  

At 11 p.m. the following day they were both still sleeping when a cell phone in Jon’s room rang. Rolling lazily out of bed and pulling his jeans on as he went, Jon grimaced at the sound of the phone ringing:  it wasn’t his, it was Richie’s - he must have forgotten it there the previous night. The screen read “Fred” and Jon stared at it for a few moments, mainly because he was still a couple hours short of sleep and still couldn't make much sense of it, but partly because he didn’t know what to do: he never caviled about answering Richie’s phone, but he doubted his intentions this time. Frédérique was calling Richie, and it was time for Jon to behave.

Jon grabbed the still ringing phone and ran to Richie’s room, but as he was knocking on the door and yelling for Richie to get up, the phone stopped ringing. Fuck. Richie opened the door just enough to silently stretch his arm out, give Jon the finger and put the palm up for Jon to place the phone on it. When it was done, he closed the door back without saying a word.  Jon chuckled and shook his head as he returned to his bedroom: he appreciated Richie’s gesture - he was most certainly naked and Jon didn’t want that image in his mind for the rest of the day.

On the other side of the door, Richie’s lips curved into a wistful smile and his heart race kicked up when he read that there was a voice message from Frédérique, but didn’t dare to hope. Not yet. He put his phone to his ear to listen to the message as he retrieved his jeans from the back of a chair.

 “Richie, hi. It’s Frédérique”, Richie smirked at the fact that she always introduced herself. Like I wouldn’t know. Her voice sounded deep and husky and Richie’s cock throbbed in response: it was her bed voice. “I’m home now but when I get back if you’re interested maybe we could have coffee or something and I could explain what happened”, she paused, “Maybe I’m not even entitled to do this, I understand if you don’t answer back”, she hesitated, “I just thought you should know that I know I made a mistake and that I’m sorry if I hurt you. And Richie…I-“. The message was over.

A vision of Frédérique cuddled in bed, warm, soft and naked flashed in his mind, but his relief was short-lived: the message was rather generic and chances were she meant just what she said – that she was sorry and she wanted to explain, but nothing more. But explain what? After all it was he who had fucked up. Big time. More than once. However, it was a good thing that she was open to talk: he could have a chance at explaining himself and making up for his own mistakes.

Richie opened the courtains to let the daylight in and decided to wait for a few minutes, making some time by putting on his jeans, going to the bathroom, washing his face and teeth and having some water before finally sitting down on the loveseat in his room and dialing. His stomach buzzed in anticipation…and uncertainty. The phone rang three times. Come on come on come on.

“Mmm…aló?” Frédérique answered without even opening her eyes.

“Fred, it’s me”, his voice was thick and serious.

“Hey” she said sleepily while a smile drew on her face when she heard Richie's velvety voice, but she couldn’t allow herself to be hopeful. Not yet.

“Isn’t it like middle ‘a the afternoon there?”, Richie couldn’t help but tease at her sleepy voice.

“I’m sorry, I left the message and fell asleep…I’m so exhausted”, she replied as she stretched. She hadn’t slept more than two hours the previous night and then had spent the whole day running errands for the wedding. She had planned to call Richie as soon as she got home and had some minutes of peace and quiet, so she dropped herself fully dressed on the bed and was fighting sleep when she called Richie - she couldn’t wait any longer. She was bummed by having to leave a message, but finally managed to leave one, barely stopping before her tongue got too loose.

“When can I see you?”, Richie asked, unable to contain his anxiety.

“I’ll be back in New York by Tuesday...would you like to..." she sat back up excitedly, "...have dinner with me?"

“Back in New York?” Richie frowned, “Where are ya?”

“I’m in Bordeaux...my brother’s getting married on Sunday”

“I see”, Richie remained silent for a few seconds and scratched the arm that was holding the phone with his idle hand before speaking again “OK, but Tuesday is still almost a week ahead…", he reasoned out loud, "...and I need to talk to you, Fred. We need to talk”, Richie tried, his tone more demanding.

“Yes, I know...I’m so sorry, Richie”, she apologized sheepishly, “I really owe you an explanation, but I don’t want to do it over the phone”.

“And I owe you one, Fred”, Richie sighed. The last show was on Friday, so maybe...No. He had to keep calm and be patient. “Alright then”, he nodded “So whadda ya say? Dinner on Tuesday?”, he asked casually and suggested, “I can pick ya up at 6 if you want”.

Frédérique chuckled softly and sighed in relief. “Sure, I’ll be looking forward to it”