“I see… And… Is Mr. Sexton around? In the same room as Sophia? I’d prefer not to disturb them.”
Océane, the chickened-out amnesiac alcoholic, would she be afraid to see the tiger again?
“Mr. Sexton left a few hours ago, Miss. He’s out of town,” Peter replies without losing patience.
“Phew! Well, I meant… shit! Never mind,” I mumble, noticing the model employee’s raised eyebrow.
He doesn’t comment and brushes off the expression that briefly crossed his face. I feel sorry for myself but find it hard to hide my relief. “TS” signed the card and vanished? That’s one less immediate worry for me…
I try to pull myself together. Unfortunately, shame and doubt are starting to grow in me again. I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself at some point. Worse, I didn’t blow my chances of keeping my job in the first few hours.
“I would like you to direct me to the library, please, Peter.”
“Of course, Miss. If you would like to follow me?”
I follow the butler’s lead to a stately room. Graphic ebony shelves line the walls elegantly. They run along almost every side and are abound with books. Lush plants in large pots adorn the corners. And a huge bay window overlooks… the pool…
Second flash!
I recognize it. I see myself drinking with Sophia at the edge of this overflowing splendor… Then black out… My eyes freeze on the breathtaking view from here, and my belly twists. It kills me not to know how things turned out. For example, could Tiger Sexton have seen us from this spot?
We don’t panic; we don’t panic.
There’s no indication he was around, and maybe I wasn’t messing around that much.
I wouldn’t have, right?
Otherwise, what kind of a messed up first impression is that!
I swallow, trying to control my breathing. Peter stays back; I move forward and discover Sophia in one of the meridians.
“Well, you’re awake,” she says immediately when she sees me.
Her smile is faded. I notice her puffy, red eyes. Just due to the hangover?
“Have you been crying, Sophia?”
“No, no… don’t worry. I’ve had a bit too much wine and champagne; I can’t hold alcohol so well anymore,” she justifies herself, clumsily putting on her usual assurance.
I’m not fooled. I come closer and sit next to her, thinking about what I could say or do.
“You look sad, Sophia. And I have to admit, I don’t remember much. I’m freaking out that I embarrassed you or hurt you or—”
“Not at all, sweetheart… It’s nothing. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just… a little emotional at times, and drunkenness makes it worse for me,” she persists, fiddling with her wedding ring.
She stands up and leaves to stand in front of the window, graceful despite everything. Lost, I stare at her back. Is it time to prove myself? A true friend would have known how to act. A simple friend would have tried to minimize this by distracting her.
An au pair paid to keep her company, how are they supposed to act in this scenario?
What if I just listened to my heart? But I’m still an employee, and as the butler just told me, everyone has to stay in their assigned place in this house, if I understood correctly…
Argh, my hair hurts too much. Sophia runs her fingers through hers and turns toward me, a little more cheerful.
“Let’s stop talking about it. We both drank too much; it’s all my fault.”
“Tut-tut, you didn’t force me. And overall, we had a good time… As far as I can remember,” I plead derisively.
“It’s true…”
A moment of silence follows. She sits back down and holds my hands.
“Neither of us remembers the whole morning, so I don’t know if I welcomed you. So I want you to know that I am delighted to have you here, Océane”.
“Thank you.”
“I hope you haven’t changed your mind. You’re gonna stay, right? I want you to stay with me.”
“Yes, I’m not letting you go.”
Why is she so worried about it?
She presses my fingers, and her face becomes warmer. I find a little bit of this beginning of complicity that we shared. Our fingers intertwine, and I smile back at her.
“By the way, can I ask you a little question, Sophia?
“Sure.”
“Have I met your husband? Did we… talk?”
An almost amused astonishment emerges on her features.
“I don’t know. Well… not clearly. I think we’ll have to make more formal introductions when he comes back.”
“Tell me he’s not coming back for six months,” I beg, half-serious, half-desperate.
Against all odds, her lips stretch, then she bites her lip, massaging her temple.
“Ty is coming back at the end of the week. Don’t be so intimidated.”
“I’m not intimidated,” I lie. “I was just worried that he saw me drunk… Is that the case? Was he angry? Did he say anything to you?”
“I don’t think so… It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it… And you know what, you’re welcome to come with us to his uncle’s party next Saturday.”
Like, the three of you at a social event? Hell, no.
Before I can get away, the ringing of her phone—although not so loud—twists my brain and interrupts us. Sophia picks it up hastily. An unknown number and a kind of incomprehensible uneasiness make her a bit feverish. Well, I think. I have to admit that I’m not in top form.
“Sorry, Océane, would you mind leaving me alone, please? I have a phone appointment,” she says. “Can we meet later?”
“Yes, of course.”
I get up. She whispers something in a language that I don’t identify, picks up the phone, then takes the phone away from her mouth to add, looking at me, “Peter will show you around meanwhile. Your things have been put away in the dressing room in your bedroom. Unless you prefer to walk around half-naked?”
“Oh, no, I’ll be happy to put on real clothes. See you later!”
“See you later, sweetheart. We’ll talk about that night in Melbourne later.”
I leave the library after a wink from Sophia. Confused, I lean against the wall, tighten my belt and stuff my hands in my bathrobe pockets. I almost forgot the card; I sigh as I brush it off on one side and my cell phone on the other. I pull them out and stare at them. In my left hand, my foggy new life and enigmatic words. And in my right hand, text messages from Louane belatedly invade my screen.