LIX

Gaby poured two cups of coffee, put them on a tray next to a plate of bagels and took it to Frédérique’s bedroom, where she lay on her bed, wearing her sleeping shorts and tanktop, one arm over her forehead and the other one on her stomach. It was such a hot day it made it difficult to even breathe. When she heard Gaby enter the bedroom, Frédérique sat up and leaned against the headboard. Gaby placed the tray on the vanity by the bed and moved the armchair further closer to the bed before sitting on it and resting her bare feet on the bed. She held her cup of coffee with both her hands as she listened to Frédérique speak softly.

“I’m such a fool, Gaby”, Frédérique told her with resignation, nodding her head and looking to the clear blue sky through the open window of her bedroom. “I thought this one was it, I swear”.

Gaby sighed softly and took a sip of her coffee. She had also hosted hopes for Frédérique and Richie that they would be able to conceive despite her condition, it just didn’t seem possible that they couldn’t. Frédérique sometimes even joked about it, her burden just didn’t seem to be there anymore. Once she made a comment on the “hostility” of her womb and Richie had added with a naughty smirk: “I don’t know about that, but I feel pretty welcome in there”. At the time it seemed like a silly joke, but it had somehow ignited a thought in Frédérique’s mind: maybe he was right, it was so right. They loved each other so much and they were so happy - Richie was the one, everything worked perfectly between them, why shouldn’t this, too? Yes, after a year together it hadn’t happened, but perhaps it was because of Frédérique’s state of mind – her body always responded to it – and she being defensive and alert may have contributed to worsening her condition. When she felt the pains this time, she had allowed herself to feel hopeful. Only when she confirmed that it was actually her period again did she realize how much she actually wanted to have Richie’s baby. But now they’d have to wait - there were still two months of tour left. Yes, maybe it just wasn’t the right time.

“What about the wedding?”, asked Gaby after Frédérique’s long silence, quickly changing the subject to a more joyful one.

“We talked to the lawyers this week, Richie needs to understand how important it is for us to sign the prenup”, Frédérique answered with a hint of sternness and concern in her voice. “He needed to hear it from them”. She wasn’t going to give budge an inch: she wanted to protect Richie from ever having to be exposed to any kind of legal problems she could have regarding her architectural practice. Not that she wasn’t confident about her own capabilities, but sometimes shit just happened. “Then once he’s convinced we’ll talk about a date”. She couldn’t help but smile in anticipation.

Gaby picked up her excitement and both women were soon immersed in fantasizing about locations and dresses.

…

Goddamnit.

Jon sat back up on the edge of his bed and let his head hang down from his neck, his hands on the edge of the mattress, his muscular arms tensed along his sides. He turned his head to look at his wife sleeping on the bed. Yeah, he knew he never should go to bed if he really didn’t want to sleep. Or fuck. But what the hell, it was 3.22 a.m. and he just couldn’t get over the fact that Frédérique was alone at the Pennsylvannia house while Richie was in California. It had been four months since the end of the tour from hell and that was as long as Jon could stop Richie from diving right into his solo album, specially with everything they had gone through these past few months.

Once the tour was over and after spending three weeks in California, Richie and Frédérique had taken off to the French Polynesia and remained off the grid for almost a month. They had tried to become pregnant naturally for months, supported only by the hope that it just had to happen, that everything was going to work itself out. But no, the tour was over and nothing had happened. However, if they had left things to karma before, or Frédérique still carried some minimal amount of doubt about it before they went to on that holiday, when they returned all those doubts had vanished: they were completely determined to have a baby now, against all odds, no matter what. Richie’s glowing face came to Jon’s mind, warming his heart.

After a thorough investigation of the best doctors around and avant-garde treatments, they had finally decided on one, to which Frédérique had submitted for weeks. Yet two more months had passed and still nothing, Frédérique was exhausted and stressed, so they had thought it was time to retreat and they’d left for France. Jon and his family joined them in Bordeaux a week later, originally planning on staying for at least ten days. Jon felt in heaven: such a peaceful, gorgeous place, bottles of white wine practically growing on trees. Frédérique looked happy and relaxed. And beautiful. After only five days of stay, and despite his wife’s protests, Jon decided it was time for them to leave so they went to Italy.

In France, Jon and Richie had discussed their plans for the future: they both had the intention of releasing a solo album, but when Jon was still trying to figure out what concept he wanted to explore next, Richie had been writing non-stop and his inspiration flowed from him like a voluminous river. It had only been two weeks since Richie and Frédérique had returned from France and Richie was already in California organizing and contacting different musicians to play on the album, even though he’d probably record most of it back in the studio in Pennsylvannia.

Jon couldn’t blame Richie: not even he could convince her of staying in the New York apartment when Richie was gone, Frédérique could be thrown out in the jungle by herself with a chopstick and she’d be happy, but he did feel that Richie shouldn’t have left in the first place - it was too soon – but there was only so much Jon could do about it. Frédérique always insisted she liked to “clean up her own mess herself”, so their service staff was minimal and their intervention was limited to a few hours only once or twice a week. But Jon knew the type: in the beginning his wife was just like that. Frédérique was, thus, alone, in the middle of the countryside, in Pennsylvannia. Crazy woman.

Jon stood up, and looked out the window. It was the middle of December and it was freezing cold.

…

Frédérique looked out through the window and stared at the full-moon-bathed hills that surrounded the house, the first glow of dawn barely visible on the horizon. The air around the window was colder, so she wrapped her long, gray woolen jacket tighter across her chest. She had had the fireplace going for two days straight since Richie had left and a sort of excitement filled her: it was probably the winter, but then, she always felt like that with each season – she enjoyed all of them with their particularities, whether it was the scolding sun and warm breeze of summer, the fresh smell of trees in spring, the earthy smell of fallen leaves of autumn…and the icy smell of the winter air.

She wished Richie was there with her, though, making love to her by the fireplace, but she immediately felt greedy: they’d barely been apart the past five months and she’d had his full attention all the time, he’d been there for her every session of the treatment, every month when the result was negative once and again, like last month. Yes, it was good that he dedicated his full attention to his new album now, he was so inspired and joyful that Frédérique couldn’t help but feel excited about it herself, everything about Richie was always exciting, everything with him was always a new adventure and each time she discovered and learned new things. She felt like a teenager again when her stomach fluttered at the memories of their days in the Polynesia. She felt her body couldn’t contain so much love or experience so much pleasure. God, those lips.

In France they’d finally set a date for the wedding but it would be held six months from then: it took a lot of coordination to accommodate both Frédérique’s family and friends and Richie’s “family”. Man, those men never stopped doing things, there was always something brewing and it was an incredible experience to be able to witness and take part in all those endeavors. Good, it would also give her time to deliver her proposal for the design contest of a new hotel in Dubai she’d just taken up. Millions of ideas were swarming in her head, specially after the meeting she’d had with the design team. She felt extremely fortunate of how talented the people in her team were. Frédérique turned her head to the open laptop and the splayed papers all over the coffee table in front of the fireplace: when she had so many ideas bouncing up and down in her head chances were sleep would take a while to come.

The oven timer clicked and she walked over to the kitchen. Yes, maybe the darkest hour wasn’t the best time to cook, but she just couldn’t help a craving for cheese scones and the bakery a couple miles down the road was closed at that time, so she’d looked the recipe up on the internet and made them herself. She had just placed the hot tray on the granite counter of the kitchen when she heard the crackle of the gravel road by the house. A slight frown furrowed her brow.

It could only be one person at that time of the morning.