I adore Émilienne, she’s the light of my life, and if I’m honest, this is the first time I’ve been in love. I’m messing it up but I don’t know how. She’s pulling away from me, I sense it, so I am trying to be there for her. I tell her at every opportunity how much I love her. I tell everyone! I tell them I gave up my career for her, so she’s reminded just how little everything means in comparison to her. Nothing else matters. The more I shout this out, the more it feels I’m speaking into a void. What should I do?
From an outsider’s perspective, it seems to me that the issue is she needs space, and he’s trying to fill that space because he thinks that’s what she wants, when it’s the total opposite.
Have you talked to her about how you’re feeling? Communication is key in healthy, successful relationships. Oftentimes a partner will need space, but that doesn’t mean they feel any different, it just means they need time alone. Time to reflect and centre themselves. Telling everyone yougave up your career for Émilienne could come across in a different way than you intended. Perhaps the next step should be a frank and honest discussion?
From all at Paris Cupid, we wish you well.
Once again, I’m conflicted. Emmanuel really does seem genuinely in love with Émilienne, and maybe he’s just as hopeless with love as the rest of us? It makes some sort of illogical sense that when he senses she’s backing away, he figures the best recourse is to drown her in protestations of his love so she comes back. When we’re in the thick of it, we don’t tend to see these glaring mistakes. Only time will tell if they can resolve this, and the romantic in me hopes they do.
25
Benoit arrives with an inflatable collar for Minou and a backpack with a transparent viewing pouch.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ I ask.
‘Yes, a cat pack! You can place Minou inside. It’s got air vents and he can see out of all three sides in case he wants a walk and some fresh air. The woman at the pet shop said they’re very popular among Parisians. Although, she could have been just after another sale, who knows?’
I laugh imagining Minou trapped inside a see through backpack while I amble along the boulevards of Paris. ‘How much do I owe you?’
He hands me a receipt and the amount isn’t too bad considering. I find my purse and hand him some euros. ‘Thank you for doing this. Should we see if he’ll try the backpack?’
‘Oui.’
But Minou is nowhere to be found. ‘He must be here, I haven’t left the apartment today.’ We hunt high and low and part of me senses he’s watching us from some hidden vantage point, laughing at the show we’re putting on for him.
‘Are you sure he can’t have escaped somehow?’ Benoit asks, raking a hand through his thick dark hair.
‘I’m sure. I haven’t opened the balcony door and all the windows are locked. Do you think this is some kind of cat trickery? What if we stop searching for him and pretend we’re having a grand old time and see if he appears?’
Benoit’s eyes shine with mirth. ‘Do you think cats arethatmanipulative? Or is this the lack of sleep talking?’
I slap my forehead. ‘I sound like a crazy cat lady already and he hasn’t even been in my company for twenty-four hours. Imagine what I’ll be saying at the seven-day mark!’
With a laugh he takes a seat on the sofa. ‘Ah, I assume the fabric didn’t look like this yesterday?’ He points to the arm that looks like it had a run in with a cheese grater.
‘You assume correctly. I’m not sure how he managed to shred it so viciously when he’s only got a few claws left. Maybe it was a way to get his rage out after the cat fight? I tried to be supportive and show him the scratching post, but he turned his nose up at it, and I mean heliterallyput his nose in the air as if the contraption was beneath him.’
‘Cats, eh?’
I join Benoit on the sofa. ‘Any sign of him?’
He pretends to stretch as he gazes around the room. ‘Is that a paw?’ he whispers, tilting his head towards an umbrella stand.
Sure enough, behind the oversized ceramic vase I use as an umbrella stand, a tabby paw sticks out. ‘We see you, Minou.’ At that he sticks his head up over the stand and gives us a wide smile. Can cats smile?
I stand and say, ‘I better move that before he breaks – Minou, no!’ I dive across the space hoping to catch the oversized vase before it smashes to the floor but I don’t quite make the distance. The pot lands safely – upon my head.
‘Aie!’
The tabby terror sprints from the living room to wherever his next hellscape is.
‘Are you OK?’ Benoit helps me up from the parquetry floor. I’m slightly dazed as I sit on the sofa once more, rubbing the back of my head with my hand.
Benoit presses his lips tightly together.
‘What’s that face for?’ I ask. Minou has got me on edge. I dart around this way and that looking for his next surprise attack.
‘It’s… it’s…’ The dam breaks and Benoit dissolves into laughter.
