Chapter 36
The next morning myfirst thought is of The American; well perhaps not my first, but the idea of her smug reaction to our coupling looms large in the bedroom.
‘How do you want to play this?’ I turn to Florian, the morning light casting gorgeous little lace shadows on his face. When he had kept his promise and I was left shuddering on the bed for a second time, I half expected him to go back to his room, to let us gather ourselves and try to figure out what on earth had happened. But in its own way, it had felt like whatever had happened hadn’t quite finished yet, that the lying there, his hand stroking my back, my fingers tangling in his chest hair, was just as much a part of the sex as the actual sex was.
‘I think we should probably put some clothes on…’ He gestures to my naked body, how I don’t even attempt to pull the sheets up to protect my modesty. I’m pretty sure there isn’t an inch of my body he hasn’t seen, modesty feels pretty redundant now.
‘I’m being serious.’ I pick up a pillow and bring it down onto his chest. He feigns that it’s much harder than it is. ‘What do we do? What do we say?’
‘You think you’re going to go down for a birthday brunch and the first thing they’re going to ask you is whether we slept together? ’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her.’
‘For once in your life, can you just go down there without any prior planning and expectations? Let’s just throw some clothes on and go celebrate some eighty-three-year-old’s birthday party.’
‘Okay,’ I smirk. ‘Yeah, I think I can manage that.’ He heaves himself out of bed and strolls to the bathroom, my bathroom, and I hear the water start to thunder out from the taps and then there’s his gentle, husky humming. I lie there, eyes on the ceiling, listening to him, feeling every single inch of soreness on my body and I am so fucking happy.
It turns out I shouldn’t have worried about making an announcement. By the time Florian and I emerge downstairs, the crowd are already scattered around the long dining table, balloons and presents arranged carefully around the birthday girl who today is dressed in a purple tea-dress with a red beret, gloves, shoes and bag. I think it is my favourite outfit of hers yet. They must hear us coming as someone starts a drum roll and when we round the corner into the dining room, we enter to rapturous cheers and a mixed chorus of ‘Finally!’ and ‘It’s about time!’ amongst other things.
I catch Florian blush, thread my hand into his, bringing it up into the air and then plunge into a bow, pulling him with me. There is more applause and more squeals of delight until we take the two seats that have been left for us and the noise subsides.
‘Well, thank you for joining us,’ The American greets politely, the table following her lead. ‘I have to say I’ve had some interesting birthday presents over the years but seeing you two together is up there with the most unique.’
‘I bet you’re wondering how we all know,’ Crispy pipes up from the opposite end of the table. ‘Well turns out that despite being on an entirely separate floor, passion truly does know no bounds… or wall thickness.’
I choke on some of my orange juice. ‘I’m sorry…’ I gabble, looking around the table at the faces of people struggling to meet my eye.
‘Hey, sweetie,’ Debbie the multi-marrier calls out. ‘If the sex really wasthatgood, then I suggest you never let him go.’
I want to die. Florian however looks frustratingly unflappable.
The line of questioning is interrupted by the elaborate affair that is the presents. One by one her guests scrabble to their feet, wish her a happy birthday and bestow a gift in front of her like they are the Magi and she is a very colourful and American Jesus. She opens up bottles of wine, more jewellery, books, some stationery until it’s my turn. I reach for the bag by my feet and make my way towards her with my rather pathetic offering of another colourful scarf.
‘There’s more?’ she asks, pretending to be overwhelmed. I lean over her, kiss her hard on the cheek.
‘Happy Birthday, you mad old thing.’
‘Thank you.’ She kisses me back and then looks into the bag for something that isn’t there.
‘There was a card,’ I fill in, catching Crispy’s eye. He’s looking expectantly in my direction hoping that he might now be one hundred euros richer. ‘Well, this is going to sound fucking ridiculous but… I don’t know your name,’ I shrug. ‘One whole month I’ve known you. You know my darkest secrets, my biggest ambitions and I don’t even know your name.’
‘Crispy!’ The American clicks her fingers and a groaning Crispy starts to root around in his wallet for the notes required to pay off his debt.
‘And I know that makes me the worst friend but so much time passed and after a while it just felt rude to ask…’
‘Ava, stop.’ The American places her finger on my lips. ‘It has been the highlight of my year.’
‘You need to get out more.’
‘I thought I gave too much away at one point, I was pretty sure the moment I told you about my Bluette you would have cracked it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’ve lived in that place for a month with my name staring you square in the face, multiple times a day, written into the walls.’ She says it like it’s obvious, like her name is actually written in big black letters on the fridge but it isn’t – I know; I’ve checked.
‘The only things on the walls are the…’ my voice trails off. ‘Birds.’ It comes out a whisper. ‘Bird… sparrow… robin…?’ She smirks at my attempts. ‘Birdie?’ I try it on my lips and even before she confirms whether I have it correct I know it’s her name. Of course it’s her name.
Then there is another cheer from the table, an eruption almost, with yet more clapping and whooping and laughing. I look at Florian who shrugs at me as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.
