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“I know we’re getting the lamb fondue, and you’re getting the Big Ass Burger”—she took a sip of wine, smiling over her glass—“and I’ll probably have the mussels and chorizo if you’ll help with it.”
“You know I will. I’m game for anything with chorizo, including mussels.”
“Your dad and I are going out tonight to Hudson’s, and it isn’t possible, or let me say, it’s ill-advised to try to eat light there.”
“Hell, who would want to? I crave their rattlesnake cakes and venison all the time. I’d love to take Rakell there, but she’s so careful with her diet right now. Almost to the point…” He stopped himself, remembering the hell his parents went through when his older sister Melissa started restricting herself to the point of hospitalization the summer after her freshman year in college when she’d gained some weight. The whole thing was a blur to Jake, but on the edge of that memory, it occurred to him it was around the time she began dating Tom…wasn’t it? He made a mental note to ask Jenae about it. Jake had been in junior high, but even if he couldn’t remember the details of what had happened, the distress that enveloped their home was etched into his psyche, and he had a visceral reaction whenever guys referred to girls as fat or when girls expressed a distorted image of themselves.
They shared the lamb fondue, and his mom insisted he help with her mussel and chorizo dish. Much of their conversation centered on Rakell, mostly that opportunities seemed to be opening up to her. Jake didn’t want to go into it too much because he didn’t want his mom to pick up on any anxiety in hisvoice when he talked about Rakell spending more and more time in Los Angeles and all that entailed. He thought again about how he really had wanted to move away from the spotlight and be with a normal Austin girl, but could he really determine who he fell in love with? Did he have control over that?
When they’d finished their meals and were getting ready to head out, Jake insisted on buying lunch. She squeezed his hand, thanking him, saying she’d let him treat since he’d won the Super Bowl and was going to get a big raise. They both laughed. As they were walking the few blocks through downtown Austin to the boutique, their conversation veered toward him and Rakell.
“I care about her so much. Since I met her, she’s all I can think about. Even when I’ve tried to move on, date other people, my brain just kept going back to her, her…”
“Ahh, and your heart…your heart is the thing that can’t let go. We can try to convince our brains that things won’t work, but once your heart is sold, it’s difficult to undo the deal.” Annette’s head spun toward her son. “I know very well.”
“Yeah, you and Dad…that must have been tough, you having to move from France to Texas. I’m not going to dilute it by saying America…Damn, France to Texas—Texas is like a different country squared. Now that’s a cultural shock.” He let out a quick laugh. “But look at you guys, a forever love. I always thought that when I found someone, when I really fell, it would be normal…I mean…” Jake tightened his jaw. He knew he couldn’t tell his mom about Rakell, her past occupation, how complicated things seemed.
“Normal?” his mom said, a hushed giggle behind her question.
“I just mean, well, Rakell’s path wasn’t easy or straight. Her past is pretty tough to swallow and…”
She held up her hand. “No, please, Jake, that’s between you and her. You know what your dad and I always say: When someone trusts you enough to keep their confidence, it is a gift and should be valued. If she opened up to you, entrusting you, then it’s your duty to maintain that and protect her information. It is not any of my business nor anyone else’s for that matter.”
“Come on, Mom, you guys raised me right. I wasn’t going to say anything, just that I wished our situation was more normal, more like you and Dad, that’s all.”
“Normal as in…”
“It’s a sweet story, you and Dad, you waiting tables at a little café in Paris. Dad traveling to Paris with buddies after graduation from UT, thinking he’s on a boy's trip. Meeting the girl of his dreams—his forever girl. He didn’t even like fancy coffee drinks back then, yet he kept going back to that café.” He looked at his mom. “I mean, how many cappuccinos can one guy drink in a week?” he joked, noticing his mom’s grimace. “Come on, it’s a great story.”
She paused on the sidewalk, a block before the jewelry shop. “Well, I suppose you’re old enough to know the truth, and perhaps it will help you create more realistic dreams for the future….”
“What?”
“I did work as a waitress but only for the first year after moving to Paris. Then I got a job doing what I love: dancing.” She cleared her throat, her eyes on her son, watching his features shift into a perplexed expression that took over his face.
“Why would you hide that? That’s amazing, but you and Dad…”
“Well, he came to the dance place where I worked with his college friends to watch a show…” Jake watched his mom’s throat move as she swallowed. “You know, cabaret, remember when you went to Europe with Mr. E after your senior year?Remember Paris, the district of Pigalle, specifically Boulevard de Clichy?”
His brain snapped with realization, disbelief choking his words. “Hold up—seriously—hold up, Mom!” he stammered, his eyes shifted toward her squinting. “You? As in that cabaret…we weren’t allowed to go to…those shows… Wait…no, no.”
“Yes, darling, I was a Moulin Rouge dancer for six years,” she said, looking up to the sky, ignoring Jake’s intense square jaw as his hands found their way to his hips, his torso inching forward toward his mom.
“Stop, Mom. Seriously, this isn’t funny. Mom…?” His mom wasn’t a joker. She laughed readily but wasn’t prone to cracking a joke or even teasing unless it was in a scolding manner.
She blinked, a soft smile still curving her lips. “Now, Jake, I thought you were old enough to understand that just because we are your parents doesn’t mean we are, or were, boring. You act surprised as if we ourselves weren’t young and…”
“Yep, I get that you were young, but hold up—Moulin Rouge? That’s like strippers…no, no…”
She shook her head. “You hold up, my darling son. By the way, that’s not correct English.” She knew she was poking him. “But Moulin Rouge dancers are not strippers. It is an extremely competitive process, and the skill of the dancers is extraordinary. Most of the dancers have many years of classical dance training, plus jazz. The point…is that it is difficult to get an audition, much less be chosen. The physical requirements were quite—how do you say?—intense, grinding.”
“Mom, there’s a reason my friends and I were trying to sneak in, until Mr. E overheard us, that is, of course, after Emma Mae, Ms. Valedictorian, told him what we were planning. He made us return to the hotel room for the rest of the night and put tape on the door seals so he would know if we snuck out. Was that a new thing? I mean, maybe it was after your time…” Jake said,begging for an explanation that would coincide with the image he had of his mom.
“No, Jake, the women danced topless even back in the Stone Ages. I started in the early seventies as a backup dancer for a year before becoming a main dancer and then finally a featured dancer. You know my friend pack from Paris—Astrid, Clara, and Edith…all Moulin Rouge dancers—we had to support each other. It’s a tough schedule, the pay isn’t that great, and men can be well…not so gentlemanly…”
“Mom…” Jake said, sounding pained. “Edith was…God, how can a woman with the name Edith…okay, wait…Dad. How did you meet Dad?” They’d been standing on the sidewalk for several minutes, and people were ebbing around them, so Annette took her son by the elbow, encouraging him to the side so they could talk. Jake was not known for his subtlety, and she knew the next part of the story might result in him clutching his heart. She’d shared it with her daughters, and now it was time Jake knew his parents were like everyone else—they had a past, one that didn’t fit with Jake’s picture of his parents, but she knew not telling him was a disservice to him.
She stared up at her son, her hand still clutching his elbow. “Jake, let’s grab a drink and chat,” she said. “We can sit outside at Cedar Door.”
