‘I’m buying them, not you.’
‘Manon, it’s a waste of money.’
She won’t be told and hoists them under her arms, knocking into shoppers as she goes.
‘Oooh, I need that cute-as-a-button Père Noël!’ Manon nods to a jovial chubby Santa Claus with ruddy cheeks, holding a beer stein.
‘Do you think that’s the right message? A drunk Santa?’
‘Oui!It’s Christmas, time to drink, laugh and be merry! My hands are full. Can you pick it up for me?’
‘I will not.’ Note to self: don’t bring Manon here ever again. ‘We have those gorgeous Christmas decorations from suite twenty.’
‘But he’s holding a beer stein!’
I’ve never had children, but I assume this is what they’re like when they’ve had too much sugar and are overexcited by the magic of Christmas.
I do splurge on some Christmas lights for the windows, and I hide a smug smile when I note they’re bigger and better than Noah’s rather lacklustre strings.
‘We’ll get a real tree,non?’ she asks.
‘Oui, of course.’
‘Parfait,’ Manon says. ‘I can’t wait for thevin chaud.’ My cousin and I have a lot of Christmas traditions, and one of them is making an evening out of decorating the tree. We feast on Christmas snacks and listen to carols on repeat while drinking far too much mulled wine. Without fail, we usually end up on the sofa watching Christmas flicks. My all-time go-to isLes Bronzés font du ski –French Fried Vacation 2– an oldie but a goodie that most French families watch around this time of year. It’s the same kind of wacky comedy asNational Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Manon always choosesLa Bûche – Season’s Beatings– as she does love a good drama in her life and on screen. Theynever get old and I love those cosy evenings with her each and every year.
We load our haul in the car, and sputter slowly back. There’s no parking to be found so I’m forced to do a circuit before a space finally opens up out the front of Noah’s bar. It’s a tight spot, so I reverse park, holding my breath as I navigate backwards, trying hard to focus as Manon natters on about making and decorating a gingerbread house, which fills me with dread. Manon is many things, but baker she is not. She’s more likely to burn down the hotel, so I do my best to temper her plans.
‘Let me order a gingerbread house from Ladurée instead.’ I run up the kerb but successfully fit the car into the small space, only just kissing the bumper of the car behind me.Succès!
Before I can even open my door, Noah strides from the bar, index finger at the ready. ‘Here comes the king of Rue de Vaugirard,’ I mutter as I unplug my seatbelt and exit. So much for the idea of a truce.
‘Can you notseemy car there, Anais?’ He gesticulates wildly as if I’ve side-swiped his oversized SUV. No one drives such a huge vehicle in Paris, they’re just not practical, so part of me wonders if Noah is making up for a lack. Big SUV, small man, if you get my drift.
‘I can see your SUV. It blocks out the sunlight, so how could I not? What’s the problem?’
‘You reversed right into it!’ He goes on to berate me about Parisian parking etiquette as if I’m new to the city and haven’t lived here all my adult life.
I hold up a hand to stop his tirade. ‘That’s enough mansplaining for one day, Noah. Parking in Paris is an art form, and if you knew any better, you’d know that a light graze like that is totally normal. It’s expected.’
He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Is that so? And just how am I supposed to get my car out? You’re “grazing” the back and the other car is “grazing” the front.’
‘Perhaps you should invest in a smaller vehicle if you have trouble manoeuvring such a beast as the one you drive.’ I give a loose shrug, just like he always does, that implies I don’t care one bit. ‘Pro tip: usually if you find a good car space such as this, you don’t move, as they’re hard to come by.’ I can’t help but grin. It’s a stupid silly rule of thumb that has us leaving our cars for days while we walk or catch the metro. I only have a car because Francois-Xavier insisted on it, claiming we’d need wheels to get around when the hotel was up and running for errands and whatnot. So far, it’s been a blessing and I’m glad I got to keep it in the divorce, though that’s mostly due to the fact we got a loan for it. But, for now, it will stay parked because of the handy location, and also because I don’t think I’ll be able to get out easily either. It’s just the way street parking is here. Chaos.
‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard you say, Anais, and you’ve said some real doozies before.’
Hilary eyed the arrogant mansplainer coolly while he once again tried to belittle her. If only he knew about her past with men just like him. Men who were now not of this world.
‘Moi?That’s rich coming fromyou.He who puts the P into patronising.’ At that he frowns. Did I cut him down to size? I’m internally bubbling with anger and my mind is a muddle.
Manon watches us bicker back and forth before she finally bursts out, ‘I could cut the sexual tension with a knife!’
If only I had a knife at hand; I’d slice that smarmy look straight off his smarmy face!
My very witty comeback to Noah dries right there on my lips. ‘Manon!’ I admonish. ‘Can’t you see we’re two adults engaging in warfare? The only tension I feel is the expanding of my head when Noah tells me the rules about parking in Paris as if I’ma complete novice, when the opposite is true. And does he stop there?Non, he will school me in the best way to clean a window so it’s streak-free, or give me a lesson on how much noise my builder can make. I could go on and on…’
‘Please don’t.’ He shoots a glare my way. ‘I’m trying to be a good neighbour and, if you can’t see that, that’s on you. I’m only trying to help as I’ve been in your position before and learned a thing or two.’
‘Except when you’re being a massive hypocrite.’
