12
Fiona
Several nights later,I sat on my terrace with Sandwich and Saffron. Sandwich was in the process of rolling flecks of tobacco into a thin piece of paper, then licking it with the tip of her tongue. She did it with a grace I found captivating. Saffron puffed on a previously rolled cigarette, plumes of smoke encircling her like the flowers of wild grasses back home.
Inside, James and Reynaldo were discussing politics and drinking wine. The glittering lights of Paris decorated the summer night. From downstairs came the noise from the café as well as the pub we could hear but not see. We all had wine glasses in our hands. I sat on one of the two chairs with Saffron beside me. Sandwich leaned against the railing, looking slim enough she might fall right through the bars if she wasn’t careful.
“Tell us how you’re doing here all on your own,” Saffron said. “My first few months here were dreadful. I didn’t know a soul nor speak a bit of French.”
“They’ve been fine. A little lonely,” I said. “I’m homesick.”
Saffron crossed one leg over the other and gave me a good hard look. She wore wide-legged pin-striped trousers and a boxy blouse made of white cotton. Her fancy clothes, according to her, as they were not splattered with paint. “Only the best for you, darling,” she’d said when she came in, before kissing me on both cheeks and calling me delicious.
“You need to get out more,” Saffron said. “I could take you a few places so interesting you’d forget all about home.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “I like to be up early to practice.”
“Practice what?” Sandwich asked, looking interested before lighting her cigarette.
“Music, dirty girl,” Saffron said. “You have a singular and infuriating focus on sex.”
I flushed and looked toward the lights of Notre Dame. It wasn’t the first time I’d been embarrassed that evening, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last. Spending time with these two women was like holding on to a sleek, sharp slope with my fingernails. I never knew what was coming and could fall off at any moment.
“James should take you out more,” Sandwich said. “He’ll protect your innocence.”
“He’s noble. We can say that, can’t we?” Saffron asked.
“I prefer to stay in,” I said. “Anyway, I have enough trouble right here in the apartment.”
Both women whipped their heads around to look at me. “Whatever do you mean?” Sandwich asked.
“Do either of you know Pierre Basset?”
“Sure, we’ve heard of him. Sandwich here knew a girl he—” She cut herself off. “You know, a girl who was friendly with him.”
“Have you heard anything about him?” I asked.
“Other than he’s a terrific womanizer, not really,” Sandwich said. “My friend had to give him the goods when she couldn’t pay her bill.”
Goods? I assumed that meant sex. “She was studying with him?” I asked.
“Yes, he told her she had potential, which I didn’t hear myself.” Sandwich inhaled from her cigarette and blew the smoke out in a quick puff before continuing. “I don’t know much about music, but she sounded like a caterwauling cat to me.”
“She wasn’t that bad,” Saffron said.
“You liked her because she’s pretty,” Sandwich said. “You weren’t listening with your ears.”
Saffron thought she was pretty? But what did that have to do with the woman’s singing ability? Why would it distract Saffron? An idea came to me. Did she like women? No, that couldn’t be it. She was married to Reynaldo.
Saffron laughed. “Perhaps it was that. Regardless, he billed her for a lesson she never had with him. She met him at some party and he invited her to stop by his studio to audition for his master class. He didn’t allow her into the class. Instead, he presented her with an unexpected bill for his time.”
“Auditions are not lessons,” I murmured under my breath.
“Correct,” Sandwich said. “Thus, my friend’s confusion about what exactly she was being billed for. She had no money.”
“And she had to pay one way or the other,” Saffron said, completing Sandwich’s story.
I tucked all this away to think about later. Now they started asking me all kinds of questions. How did I come to study with him? Had I heard of his reputation before coming here?
I answered honestly. “My father arranged for me to study with him. He got the recommendation from an old school friend of his. Papa had no idea what he was sending me into.”
“The lion’s den,” Saffron said in her monotone way. It was hard to imagine her excited about anything.
“You be careful,” Sandwich said. “I’d hate to see you get in any kind of trouble because of him.”
“Listen to her,” Saffron said. “She’s been through a lot herself. Until she found us, she was a lost little puppy.”
“Not entirely true.” Sandwich took one last drag of her cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray I’d found in a closet. The balcony was skinny with only a small metal table and two uncomfortable hard-backed chairs. I’d taken my breakfast out here several days in a row. I loved to watch Paris in the morning, waking like a party girl after a late night. Before nine, the streets were quiet with only the bakery workers up and about, the street cleaners and maids heading to work. Tonight, it was a lovely place from which to watch people.
“However, I’m quite familiar with men like Basset,” Sandwich said. “Sometimes the poor fools even fall in love with him.”
Saffron shuddered. “You women and your men, always looking for someone worthy when I’m available, free of charge.”
Sandwich raised one thin eyebrow and brought a finger to her mouth to shush her friend. “The youngster’s not ready for all of that. We must let her in on our secrets slowly.”
I could feel myself slipping off the slope. What did they mean exactly?
“It’s hardly a secret,” Saffron said, drily. “Perhaps Fiona is like me. You can’t know just by looking at a woman.”
Like her? What did that mean? “I’ve worn trousers back home when I had to help in the barn or garden,” I said.
Saffron laughed, deep and throaty. “See there, Sandy, we’ve got ourselves a real revolutionary here.”
I smiled politely.
“People like me,” Saffron said, “don’t have the luxury of being with the normals. They know right away I’m different.”
“What do you mean?” My curiosity got the better of me. I had to ask. “Do you prefer women?”
“Nothing, sweet little thing.” Saffron glared at Sandwich. “Tell us more about this place of barns and gardens.”
“It’s beautiful there.” I described our mountains and the wildflowers that decorated the meadows with vibrant colors. I told them about our vegetable garden and that we grew a lot of what we ate. “Lizzie cans a lot to put away for the cold months. There’s Mrs. Wu too. She makes special teas that will cure almost anything.”
“I could have used one this morning for my hangover,” Sandwich said.
“I don’t know if she has one for that,” I said.