Half-Blown Rose, page 24
* * *
Vincent and Monet go for a walk alone in the drizzle after dinner. Theo has an extensive vinyl collection, so the boys hang back to drink whiskey and listen to records; Vincent thought Loup was going to do a handstand in the middle of the living room, he was so stoked. Aurora and Yvonne are having wine, chocolate, and chats in the kitchen.
“Yvonne drives me fucking nuts sometimes,” Monet says as they head toward the canals. They’re both terrible at navigation and their big brother knows this. He’d wrapped his arms around them and given simple directions they could remember: Walk out and turn left…at the end of the street, turn right and keep walking until you see a canal. The city is full of them, so you’ll be fine. And when you want to come back here, look at your phone.
As soon as they get to the end of the street they have to remind and reassure themselves Theo had said turn right. They turn that way, continuing down the sidewalk.
“You two fight like sisters. You definitely argue with her more than you do with me…your actual sister,” Vincent says.
She’s holding the umbrella over them. The pattering rain is comforting and makes Vincent feel cozy and sleepy, the same way she feels when she brews a fresh pot of tea and it rains against the windows of the apartment in Paris. Monet’s hair smells like oranges and her curls are pulled back in a sloppy bun. She may run a trendy Malibu boutique, but she doesn’t do fancy, and she’s one of those women who can make casualness seem chic. She’s forever wearing sneakers with her dresses and once she grew out her dreadlocks simply because it’s windy living by the ocean and she got tired of brushing her hair. The plain terra-cotta studs Vincent sells in her shop are named after her sister—Monet extra-large to Monet extra-small, in all colors, both bright and subdued.
“I think she’s jealous of us when it comes to Theo. I know it sounds crazy, but she’s the type. Haven’t you noticed how territorial she is about him? I don’t even think he pays attention. He lives on another planet,” Monet says.
“They’ve been together so long, it probably doesn’t matter,” Vincent says. “But you’re right, Theo does live on another planet…and I don’t blame him. Earth is majorly overrated.”
She admires Theo’s ability to shut out the world when he needs to. Her brother has always been focused and driven. Keeps his head down and minds his business. It’s why Vincent hadn’t been worried about showing up on his doorstep with Loup in the first place.
“Half the time I love her and the other half, I could choke her. Earlier, she was trying to tell me Theo hated tuna, but Theo loves tuna! It’s so dumb because I feel like she tries to act like she knows him better than I do, and I realize she’s his wife…she knows him in ways I never will, thank God, because I’m not a total freak…but he’s my brother, not some rando! I’m just glad Fen and Flor take after our side of the family,” Monet says. And it’s true. Their nieces look and act more like Aurora than they do Theo or Yvonne.
Vincent and Monet wait at the crosswalk for the bikes and the tram to pass before walking to the other side, continuing their hunt for canals. It’s right after sunset and the streets are busy with people walking, riding, and going out to dinner. Vincent could easily live in Amsterdam. She loves the people, the flowers, the peacefulness. When she’s there, she feels sheltered from the chaos of the rest of the world.
“So…when were you going to tell me about Loup?” Monet asks Vincent.
“When I knew what to say.”
“How old is he?”
“Have you been just dying to ask me that?”
“Yes!” Monet says, laughing with her mouth wide open. Her laugh always makes Vincent laugh; they’re both such physical laughers around each other. Monet nudges her arm hard and Vincent pushes her back. Monet has to step out from underneath the umbrella and she says damn, which makes them both laugh harder.
“He just turned twenty-five and he’s a god in bed and no, I don’t know where any of this is going. Cillian’s probably sleeping with some woman at work, so…I’ll keep you posted from here on out regarding any new developments,” Vincent says, still laughing a little. She’s tired and needs a long, luxurious bath. She’s also happy. She’s bubbled a million different emotions since the summer, but she really is incandescently happy to be walking around Amsterdam with her little sister. Une femme libre.
“You know for sure Cillian is seeing someone else?”
“No. I just think it.”
“Tell me why,” Monet pushes.
“Because I’m here…and he’s there…and they day-drink together now, apparently. I heard her with him once. I don’t know! It’s not like I trust him anymore. It’s not like I’ll believe a word he says about it anyway.”
“I’m so sorry, Vinnie. But let me tell you what I’m not sorry about: Honestly, I don’t know if I can be civil to him after all this. Have the cops on call at Colm’s wedding, please, because I may go off on him.”
“Please don’t. Girl! If you get arrested at the reception on Saturday you’re going to have to wait until Monday for me to come bail you out,” Vincent says, and they laugh again. “It’s sixty-eight days from today…when I’ll be in NYC. Feels like tomorrow and a hundred million years from now.”
“But what happened to Cillian, though? I used to love him so much! He was so great!”
“Don’t look at me, Monet! I don’t have any answers.”
They cross another street and, upon seeing a canal in the distance, Vincent points. “I actually recognized this spot on the way to Theo’s and was very proud of myself,” she says.
“So…getting back to this ‘god in bed’ thing…” Monet says.
“He’s very enthusiastic and focused. Like if I’m not fully satisfied by him, it’s over for humanity. No woman will ever sleep with a man again!” Vincent says. “When he kisses me, he holds my face, like it’s our last kiss. It’s almost too intense. Like he’ll die if he can’t kiss me again. And the dirty talk…it’s, uh, truly filthy…I…yeah, I’m gonna stop now.”
Monet looks at her with wide eyes. “In French or in English?!”
“Girl, both.”
“Um, wow.”
“Yep…let’s leave it there at wow.”
“Okay, okay. This all makes sense, though! It’s all hyped up because of Cillian and because you and Loup are both at your sexual peaks. I don’t care what anyone says about that because I know it’s true. And men date women like a full sixty years younger than they are, but women get shit for dating a man even if he’s only a little bit younger! There’s a word for cougar but not a word for men who do the same thing? Bullshit. I mean…I’m sorry Cillian did this…but good for you, V. Loup is so pretty. You know Mama and I were talking about it. And you know I think Cillian is handsome, because he is! But Loup is like…pretty. That nose! He looks like a sculpture, but he’s not perfect. It’s a whole…thing he’s got going on. The way he looks at you is like…Good for you, is what I’m saying.”
“Girl, please! You aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know! I’ve been obsessed with him from the moment I laid eyes on him. I haaated having to be around him, because I knew. And I tried…I really did. The sexual tension was truly murderous,” Vincent says.
They’re at the canal now and the drizzle is slowing. Vincent puts the umbrella down and tells her sister about how Loup keeps taking her classes over and over again. About the handstands and Anchois and “Une tigresse.” How she heard it for the first time at the show in London.
Monet gives a big squeal at the overload of new information. “Vinnie! Please stop! I can’t hear any more!” she says. They’re both laughing so hard at this point, Vincent has gotten a little dizzy. They watch the lights on the water. Slowly, a glass-topped boat slides underneath the bridge and disappears.
Once they’ve composed themselves, Vincent demands an update on Monet’s work life and love life too and they wander over more canals in the milky streetlamp light, talking and listening to each other. When they’re ready to go back to Theo’s, Monet pulls out her phone and puts in his address. They can at least head in the right direction. And when it starts to rain again, Monet says it’s her turn and opens the umbrella, holding it over them.
* * *
Vincent indulges in a long, hot bubbly bath and gets ready for bed. Loup pulls the covers back and sits with his hands behind his head.
“I like watching you do your nighttime ritual. You do it the same way every time, even when you’re tired. Even if you’ve had wine. It’s admirable,” he says, nodding.
“Merci. I should probably start charging you for the peep show, though,” she says. She rubs the rest of her hand cream in and turns off the light. Gets under the covers.
“Turn the light back on, please.”
Vincent clicks the lamp and Loup kisses her. He kisses her mouth, her neck. He pulls her shirt down and puts his lips on her shoulder. She makes a small sound of submission and presses herself against him.
“I want to watch your face,” he says. It’s something he likes to say. Sometimes when they’re in bed together, lying on their sides spooning, he asks her to turn around.
“Physiognomy gets you hot? Admittedly, I kind of dig the phrenology thing. Charlotte Brontë was into it. You do have a really great head,” Vincent says, putting both hands on Loup’s head and gently massaging like she’s giving him a good shampoo.
“You’re outpacing me here, but don’t stop…it’s turning me on.”
“Just in case you’ve forgotten, my parents are on one side. Monet is on the other,” she whispers.
“So you’ll have to be a good girl and be very quiet,” he whispers into her ear. He kisses her again and slides his hand inside her underwear.
When she comes, he is watching her face in the lamplight. She’s a little louder than she intends, and being a gentleman, he holds his hand over her mouth to make extra-sure no one can hear. And when it’s his turn, she takes pleasure in kissing him to keep him quiet.
9
Amsterdam. Wednesday, May 2.
The parents fly back to Rome this evening, but it’s early now, barely after sunrise. I don’t think anyone is up yet. Am still in bed.
Yesterday we did the Rijksmuseum and Yvonne and I made stamppot with rookworst.
I sat at the table and chopped:
potatoes
onions
carrots
It’s usually eaten in the winter, but comfort food sounded so good to all of us and the day—wonderfully gray and capricious—called for it.
It’s around midnight in Kentucky and Cillian texted right before I woke up. He said he was going to sleep soon and that the bed is too big and lonely without me. He said he was counting the days until we were both in NYC together and that he promises he’s going to make this all up to me somehow. I don’t know what to say back to him. I don’t know how to tell him that I don’t think I even want to live in the United States anymore/anytime soon. There really is more to consider here than just our marriage and how to make that work.
It’s not the only thing about my life. It’s not all I think about anymore.
I love being in Amsterdam. I’m just as happy here as I was when Loup and I were traveling all over England and France together.
We’ve been gone for about three weeks. I’m not ready to go back to Kentucky or the United States, really…not even close. I’m looking forward to seeing our son get married, but when it comes to staying stateside…to leaving all this behind…I’m nowhere near ready and not sure if or when I will be.
I haven’t responded to Cillian.
I talked to both Colm and Olive on the phone yesterday, made them send me pictures of their faces. I like to video chat with them more than they do with me anyway, but I haven’t been pushing it these last few weeks, obviously. They’re both so busy! And I’m definitely working on getting over worrying about how all this is affecting them. I mean, obviously they’re affected by Cillian and me individually and by our marriage, but:
They are living their own lives and I want them to!
I don’t want them worrying about me or Cillian at ALL.
It took having kids myself for me to realize that my parents’ marriage is a whole separate thing from me, Theo, and Monet.
We have our own lives and they have theirs.
Honestly, Olive really is the type of daughter/woman/person who would understand what I’m doing with Loup, but I’d never put that on her. I do imagine what it would be like if Olive weren’t my daughter…and were my friend instead…and I could tell her things a woman can tell her best friend.
It feels so crooked and wrong not to be sharing all of this with Ramona too. One day I’ll tell her EVERYTHIIIING. We texted yesterday, just not about this. She cut her hair and sent me a pic. I love it. Also, she got a new silkie chicken for their farm and she sent me a pic of her too, so fluffy and white! She named her Dolly Parton. It’s always a soothing spot in my mind, thinking of Ramona back home, making her yard sculptures and weeding her birdy garden, all cottagecore and happy.
Tully uploaded a new acoustic cover video yesterday and I wrote him about it. New week = new color too. Pink! He responded and sent me some more pics from Siobhán’s garden. He and Dad have been emailing a lot and his new video got a ton of views fast, which is awesome for him.
I don’t know if Siobhán is aware he’s taking pics of her garden and sending them to me. If he says to her, “Yeah, hey Mam, I’m taking pics of your petunias to send to Vincent Wilde because we talk at least once a week about music and colors.” ?
I sent him a picture of a pale pink frame hung on the wall downstairs…babies Fenna and Florentina, wrapped in pink blankets.
Loup just rolled over. The gentleman stirs!
And I think I hear Mama downstairs.
* * *
Loup walks to the skate park alone to check it out. Vincent loves the subtlety and courtesy he displays in finding something to entertain himself in order to give her some time alone with her family. She would’ve been okay with him staying! This is their trip together! But Loup is flexible and easygoing in almost all things and finds new ways to impress her every day.
Yvonne works as a wedding planner and has left the apartment already. She’ll be gone until late. She’s already said her goodbyes to Solomon and Aurora, since she won’t be back before they leave for the airport.
Everyone in the living room is related to Vincent and it’s a little loud. There is blippy, bassy music playing from Solomon’s phone and the television is on—a Dutch word game show. She is in between her mother and sister on the couch. Her dad and Theo are standing and her dad is holding his phone close to Theo’s ear.
Solomon starts telling them a story he loves repeating. About how he and Aurora came to Rotterdam in 1975 when Aurora was pregnant with Theo and they went to see Led Zeppelin at the Ahoy. And how afterward, he and Aurora hitched to Amsterdam and loved it so much, they thought of trying to find a way to stay, but Vincent’s grandfather had gotten sick and was dying and Aurora wanted to come back home. And after her father passed away, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her mother in Kentucky alone. It wasn’t until Vincent’s grandmother died that Aurora and Solomon decided to spend as much time as they possibly could outside of the United States, popping in only when necessary.
The story always makes Vincent wistful about her parents’ lives before she and her siblings came along and thankful for the wide-eyed hope and adventure they’ve instilled in them. Vincent, Theo, and Monet grew up traveling all over and staying up way past their nonexistent bedtimes in swanky art galleries and ultracool music studios. When she was a little girl, anytime Vincent learned about a new country or culture and got excited about it, her dad would open up the Rand McNally or find the globe, and they’d look at it together and dream out loud of going to those places and soaking it all in. Growing up, her parents always made her and her siblings feel like their emotions and dreams were valid—and that it was just as okay to be clueless or confused about their feelings too. Vincent tried her best to raise Colm and Olive the same way.
No matter what happens with her and Cillian, she’ll always be proud of how they raised their children.
She is staring at the TV, far away in her brain, thinking of Colm and Olive as babies, those long days when Cillian was teaching in the afternoons and evenings and Vincent was home alone with both of them, making jewelry in the living room and kid snacks in the kitchen all day.
Her dad sits beside her and it’s only then that Vincent realizes Monet has gotten up. She hears the water rushing into the kitchen sink.
“I talked to Tully yesterday,” Solomon says.
“Good. He adores you,” Vincent says.
“I told him the new album was cracker. And I told him I love saying things are cracker.”
“That’s a fairly decent Irish accent, Daddy. You’ve been practicing?” Vincent laughs a little.
“I have, thanks!” Solomon says. “And Loup…well, he fits right in too…Will we be seeing more of him?” he asks. He puts his arm around Vincent and squeezes her shoulder. Physical affection is her dad’s strongest love language. He reaches over farther and playfully taps Aurora. Vincent feels like a kid again, in between her parents like that.
Theo is watching the TV screen and correctly guesses the answer to the word puzzle. He says sweet to himself in satisfaction and leaves the room; he’s so tall, there’s only a smidge of space between his head and the top of the doorway.
“I don’t know, Daddy. I’ll see Cillian at the wedding and…to be continued,” Vincent says, putting her head on his shoulder.
“What about counseling?” he asks. Her daddy smells the same as always—like coffee and soap.
