Forty-Four
I returned to the empty tea shop heartbroken. I closed the door and locked it behind me. My aunt entered from the back room.
“What’s wrong, Vanessa?” she asked.
I pulled out Girard’s photograph and set it on the counter.
She cradled the picture in her hands. “Where did you get this?”
I didn’t answer.
“I haven’t seen this in years. I thought I had lost it in Paris.” Her fingers traced his face. “I always suspected my roommate stole it. Whenever Chloe thought I wasn’t looking, I would find her admiring him. How did you get it?”
“Auntie Faye got it from her. You were right. She did steal it, but she told Auntie Faye you left it behind by accident.”
Bursts of color bloomed in her cheeks. “Wait. Faye found her. They’re investigating me?”
“They wanted to help. When you moved away, you didn’t tell anyone. They were worried about you being all alone here.”
“I should have known you’d be complicit in their demands. I trusted you,” Aunt Evelyn hissed. “And you betrayed me, to them.”
“They are our family. Their methods might be questionable, but we look out for one another. Everyone is worried about how you don’t have anyone here. You push people away when they want to help you.”
“Yes, because unsolicited help is the solution. Interference, subterfuge, gossip, and outright manipulation. That’s what my family is good at. Why did you think I wanted to get away?”
“That’s unfair, Auntie. We love you and are trying to help. We think you’d be happy with—”
“With Girard? ‘We think,’ because I’m too stupid to figure it out myself and you all know what’s best. Is that it?”
I took a deep breath to collect myself. She was too busy being angry to listen. “You’ve done all the work to get here. You made the big move, started your business, you just need to reach out to him. That’s it. That’s the last step, Auntie. He loves you so much and is waiting for you to tell him that you feel the same.”
“And how do you know? Your aunties or the private inspector they hired told you?” She crossed her arms. Her gaze hardened.
“I talked to him myself. He told me everything, about the blue butterfly, his goal of opening his own restaurant, and how long he waited for you. You just have to go to him. Tell him.”
“How dare you, Vanessa. You had no right. This is my life.”
Her anger chilled the room. Frost spread across the glass surfaces in the shop, fogging and obscuring. I shivered, and hugged my bare arms as the temperature dropped. Goose bumps appeared on my skin.
“Why won’t you talk to him?” I asked through my chattering teeth.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Did you know he’s been waiting for you all these years?”
“Of course I knew! He never married, although he’s dated his fair share of women. The restaurant was exactly where he said he would build it. I chose the location of the tea shop because of it. I did all of this”—the fury in her voice broke—“so we could be together.” She stepped back and collapsed against the counter. “For years I’ve kept track of what he was doing and what he’s accomplished. I’ve always known.”
“Then why won’t you talk to him?”
“I can’t. It’s not meant for me. Leave me be.”
“You keep pushing people away, Auntie. People who love you.” I took a step toward her. She waved me away. “Auntie, please.”
Tears of frustration and sorrow ran down my cheeks. I cried because she wouldn’t. Her crippling fear was keeping her from her own happiness. She accepted she was destined to be alone, so she was alone, a self-fulfilling prophecy.
* * *
* * *
I escaped the confines of the wintry shop and made my way back to the apartment. I had given it my best shot. There was nothing left that I, or the aunties, could do. Aunt Evelyn was the master of her own fate and she chose not to act. I was more invested in helping her than she was.
In need of comfort, I sought out Marc’s envelope in my purse. My fingertips ripped the edge clean to reveal another drawing inside. I laughed at the subject: a forlorn, shattered phone in the shape of a heart. The scattered pieces formed the pattern of tiny arrows. There was a short note on the other side of the paper.
The phone is dead. Will need to get a new one. I miss you.
I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you. Boss has bumped up my hours. I’m even busier now. I’m so stressed out and the boys have offered to cheer me up in the little time we have free after midnight. I’d much prefer seeing you.
The writing was sloppy. There was no attempt to coordinate another meeting, which worried me. This situation was untenable, and we were running out of time. When I met him, he was agitated and overextended, but this was worse.
Outside the window, the cityscape of Paris called out to me in tantalizing whispers: the Champs-Élysées, the Eiffel Tower, and all of the galleries and museums I’d yet to visit. I had planned to explore more neighborhoods, but it wasn’t as appealing without my gorgeous tour guide. I didn’t want to be out alone.
I flopped down on the bed and sighed.
The two Yu women on this side of the Atlantic were in rough shape. Nothing was going according to plan. My settled routine had been upended, and I spun like a compass needle searching for north. I had arrived in Paris with so much baggage, had tried so hard, only to have fate intervene. The woman who woke in the hospital was free, but freedom meant nothing without purpose. All my life, my peculiar propensity for predictions had defined me, had circumscribed the possible and narrowed my world. Without it, who was I? I had hated it, but it made me unique: I was now ordinary, but what did that even mean?
I stood up and began rearranging the decorative pillows on the bed, agitated.
Ines and Luc had been my project; they were happy, but how could I claim any credit? They had known each other for years. He would have made the right choice, eventually. It was a false sense of confidence: I tried with Girard and Aunt Evelyn and failed, taking a complicated situation and making it worse. And Marc and I were in limbo, a couple in name only.
I hadn’t helped anyone. This must be how my aunt felt when she was unable to help me. The disappointment spread into the other aspects of my life until I, too, was dissatisfied.
What was I supposed to do? The uncertainty shook me.
I did what I had always done when I felt this way: I sought out my mother. It was early morning back home. Ma would be cradling her cup of coffee and clicking through her celebrity gossip blogs.