XXVI

The following Friday, as Richie was driving to Manhattan for a morning show interview, he felt joyful. He was beaming.

The shows back home had been a huge success, the album was doing - though not as good as expected - fairly well for modern standards, his clothing line was thriving and he felt overall inspired. Richie was meeting Jon for the interview, then after lunch they would join the rest of the band at Teterboro and fly to Honolulu where they would be playing two back-to-back shows. He was excited: they had challenged themselves with setlists that included songs they hadn’t played in years and he knew the fans would go berserk over them - he couldn’t wait to see and experience their reaction.

With his right hand on the steering wheel, he relaxed, resting his left elbow on the driver’s door, and put his thumb under his chin while his index was placed in the space between his mouth and his nose, a smirk curving his thick rosy lips.

Richie was thinking about the woman laying in his bed right now, how her dark hair got entangled with the white sheets of his bed while they had totally lazy and self-indulgent morning sex. His blood sizzled at the memory of the pleasure they had shared. He regretted not having told her that he loved her yet, but he reminded himself to be cautious, Frédérique was a free soul, and he might scare her away.

The project in Pennsylvania, was almost ready to apply for the construction permit, what meant that probably the following month they would start construction, which was scheduled to finish somewhere in the next four to five months. That project had a special spot in his heart, not just because it was the reason he had met Frédérique, but because it embodied what she represented to him: his haven.

Richie felt truly blessed. He knew he’d only be sure he had “got it right” the day he died, but he was ready to bet on this one: this sweet, sexy French woman who accepted him warts n’ all, who inspired him, who made him feel safe and comfortable, who made him feel he finally had both feet on the ground, and his head out of the water. His chest was light and the air he breathed seemed to flow more freely now in his lungs, he felt alive.

After getting ready for the cameras, around twenty minutes after seven a.m., the interview began. Richie and Jon answered the usual questions about the new CD, the New Meadowlands’ shows, the upcoming tour, their staying power in the merciless age of digital music and, before they closed the interview, Jon was once again addressed in regard to his 20^th wedding anniversary.

After his standard response of “I got it right the first time” and “She’s the best deal I ever made”, they moved on to Richie.

“Richie, what about you? You’re a ladies’ man…anyone special right now?” asked the interviewer excitedly.

“Yeah…there is, actually" – Richie answered without hesitation – “it’s pretty recent but we’re doing more than OK, yeah…I’m happy”, he nodded with a sideways smirk.

“That’s great! And you have a daughter… - said the interviewer checking her notes - any chance of there being a little brother or sister in the near future?”

“Oh, I’d love to, yeah – Richie told her with sparkling eyes - I’m ready to settle down again”

“How wonderful" – added the interviewer without further comment before closing down the conversation - "Thank you so much for coming. Good luck with the tour and…where are you playing tomorrow?”

“We have-“, Richie and Jon chuckled when they answered at the same time and then Jon continued going through the rest of the next appointments.

…

At the Philadelphia apartment, sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, Frédérique’s sat with her stomach clenched and buzzing. A thick tear ran down her cheek. This was it: the time had come.

…

On the phone with Frédérique, Gaby immediately picked up the anguished tone in her friend’s voice, but Frédérique discarded her observation - she was fine, just tired for the activities of the whole week. It wasn’t far from the truth anyway: between work, the shows, and the after party and…the after party back home, she was sleep deprived way beyond her physical endurance and was planning to spend the weekend at home in bed, sleeping.

Richie had tried to convince her to fly with them to Honolulu, but Frédérique had declined: if she accepted, the jetlag and the exhaustion would have rendered her useless by Monday, and she couldn’t afford that. She promised to join them later when they played at least in the same time zone.

Barely five minutes after noon, Gaby showed up at Frédérique’s office with lunch for both of them and closed the door behind her so she could speak with Frédérique in private.

“I could tell by your voice that you might not be OK”, Gaby began, “but now that I look at you I know you’re not OK”. Frédérique didn’t answer so she continued: “Look, if you don’t want to tell me fine, but I’ll just seat here, I don’t want you to be alone like this”, and giving no chance for Frédérique to resist, she sat down and started taking the salad boxes and forks from the bags.

“You’re a good woman Gaby”, Frédérique smiled warmly, “I could use some company and food, I guess. Thanks”.

For the first fifteen minutes Frédérique evaded the conversation by just talking about random stuff, but Gaby noticed she didn’t mention Richie or the shows, a subject that had occupied most of their conversations these last few days.

“Is everything OK with…?” Gaby finally dared to ask, casually.

Frédérique chewed some more bites of her salad and took a deep breath, resting her salad on her lap, holding the fork with her thumb so it wouldn’t fall to the floor. She had never spoken about these things with Gaby, but she had come to the conclusion that she trusted her: Gaby honestly seemed to care for her, and she needed to unload.

Frédérique told Gaby about what she had seen and heard that morning on TV.

“What’s the problem with that?" – frowned Gaby – “It’s too soon? You don’t want to have children?”

“I have a hostile wumb, Gaby”, Frédérique finally said almost breathlessly, trying to articulate the words despite the tightness in her throat, avoiding blinking in order to contain the tears threatening to fall from her eyes: “I can’t have children”.

“Oh…” Gaby’s heart felt for Frédérique, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t have children, it just means that it’s more difficult, not that it’s impossible, right?” she said in a persuasive manner, trying to lift the weight that seemed to rest on Frédérique’s shoulders. “How did you find out?" – Gaby’s tone changed to concern first, then to sadness – “Were you ever…?”

“Yes” – Frédérique bowed her head – “I found out when I was 17 and started developing immune system issues”, she paused for an instant before she continued. “Then 2 years ago I got pregnant and…”. Frédérique rested her forehead on the palm of her hand, she couldn’t go on.

“Sweetie…”Gaby said as she stood up to approach Frédérique and pulled her up from her seat for a hug. “But you must have faith…” Frédérique sighed when Gaby’s words echoed Emilie’s.

“I know. It’s just that…it hurts” Frédérique sobbed as she buried herself in Gaby’s arms, Gaby stroking her back to comfort her. “They always leave, Gaby, no matter how much they love me or how much I love them. In the end…they just leave”.

When they finally broke the embrace, Frédérique took a paper napkin from a box on her desk and wiped her eyes.

Gaby stood silently as Frédérique took another deep breath and blew out the air. Her eyes were read. Gaby then covered Frédérique’s hand on her thigh with her, squeezed it,  and softly spoke to her:

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Frédérique” she encouraged with sweetness in her voice, “he seems to really care for you. You’ll deal with this”

Frédérique forced a smile to respond to her friend’s words of encouragement and nodded silently.

“I need to get back to the office now, but if you need anything…” she made a gesture with her hand, imitating a phone receiver against her ear.

“Thank you, Gaby”, cooed Frédérique before Gaby left the office.

She then went to the bathroom and washed her face, fanning with her hand and forcing the redness in her eyes to disappear. After a few minutes she was as good as new again, and she looked into her eyes in the mirror. She was hoping that Gaby’s words would come from her heart so she could repeat them to herself: “Everything’s gonna be alright”. But instead, she frowned when other words came to her mind.

What the hell have you done with your life, Frédérique?