“So,” she ventured, knees shaking a bit, “La Sorbonne said no to late entry, but we went to this cool place called Château Beaupréthat has artist residencies, and I think I might do that for a year. To make my tiny books.”
Her mum’s jaw dropped, but Sabine plunged forth.
“And Yves says he can get me French citizenship so it will be affordable.” Her mum looked like she might have a stroke, but Sabine kept going. “But then he got one of his films greenlit and he didn’t show up at the passport office, so I came home.” She turned back to the fridge.
“He what?”
“It’s OK.”
“It’s not,” said Marlow, clenching her jaw. “Don’t get me started on all the parts of your story I’m struggling with, but of all the not-OK things, Yves bailing on you is the least OK.”
“I get it, though. He had a film greenlit. What was he supposed to do?”
“Put you first.”
“He’s not the only one,” said Sabine, looking right at Marlow. Dangerous territory.
“What do you mean?”
“He came to Toronto and wanted to come to my graduation sushi party, but you said no.”
“True.”
“What the hell, Mum!”
“I had my reasons.”
“And I had my reasons for going to Paris, but you didn’t care about those. He came all that way to see me graduate, and you cut him out. You’re the one who’s kept me from knowing him. So don’t get on his case for missing one appointment.”
Marlow clasped her hands so hard, her knuckles went white.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” Sabine asked, gripping the fridge door. “That’s how little respect you have for me?”
Marlow drew a breath and spoke in measured tones. “I didn’t let him come because he onlyhappenedto be in town, onlyhappenedto be at a meeting with Victor, and onlyhappenedto see me on the street. He didn’t have a clue you were graduating. If he’d called me a month before, hell, a week before, to say he knew and wanted to do something special, I would have let him. But tell me one time he’s put any planning into his relationship with you. One.”
Sabine couldn’t do that.
“Maybe it was petty to say he couldn’t add himself to the festivities,” said Marlow. “But I was protecting you. Because this is what Yves does. In the end, it’s always about him. And he will break your heart.”
Sabine burst into tears. “I’m really sorry,” she mumbled.
Marlow came over and held her tight. “Me, too.” They held each other for a bit. “One more thing. You’re not pregnant, right?”
“Nope,” said Sabine. “Still firmly a virgin. Anything else?”
“Your offers from all those universities, the scholarships … It feels like such a waste. You have your whole life to do a residency. If you want to go to the Sorbonne, apply forthe winter semester. Forget about the fall if they won’t let you in so late.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Or if you’re not ready for school, take a year off.”
“I’m going to university, I just don’t know where. I have until the first of September.”
Marlow released a huge sigh. “Great. I was trying to act like a way hipper parent than I actually am. I totally want you to go—who am I kidding?”
“And where will you find twenty thousand euros for back taxes?”
“I don’t know. Lali told me everyone has back taxes in Mirabelle, too, so I could risk just rolling with it, but given how much Rémy seems intent on being a thorn in my side, I can’t imagine her ever letting it drop. Long story short, that’s an excellent and pressing question.”
