“I couldn’t,” he continues, his voice eerily devoid of emotion. “I just couldn’t. They had the funeral in a church, and my mother cried on my arm the whole time, but when we got to the graveyard, I just...I couldn’t get out of the car. She begged and begged, but I just sat there. I knew if I watched them lay him in that grave, he would really be gone. I didn’t know what would happen to me if he was gone. Who would I be? What would I be working for? What reason would there be to keep building? It was always...”
Him.
Julien doesn’t say the word, but I hear it all the same. I suspect this may be the first time Julien has let himself think about his father this way, that he’s working to understand what happened that day even as he shares the memory with me.
I stay quiet, giving him space to think, space to breathe. Eventually he shakes his head and asks with an edge of bitterness, “Isn’t that embarrassing? I couldn’t even hold my mother as they buried her husband.”
“It’s not embarrassing, Julien,” I urge. “It’s...tragic. Losing someone like that is always tragic, and everyone handles grief in their own way. It’s not something you can prepare for. It’s not something you need to feel embarrassed about.”
He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
“Look, if you want to talk about embarrassment, let me tell you something that’sreallyworth being embarrassed about. You want to know my secret?”
He looks at me with raised eyebrows. I take a deep breath before I spit it out.
“Mary-Lynne.”
I watch him stare at me in confusion, and then I see the exact moment when it clicks.
“Non.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“They didn’t.”
“They did.”
I have the birth certificate to prove it.
“My mother used to be apracticing psychologist.” I drag my hands down my face, groaning my exasperation. “She of all people should have known how detrimental it would be. She had to have been high on whatever post-birth drugs they were pumping into her. As for my dad, well, I don’t know what his excuse is. He says he thought it was cute, and maybe it was—back when I was, you know,a baby. It’s less cute to name your daughter after history’s number one sex symbol when she doesn’t actually grow up tobea sex symbol! I’m not even blonde, for Christ’s sake!”
I collapse forward, resting my forehead on knees as the mix of frustration, fury, and mortification I feel whenever I think about my name takes over. The worst part is that Iknowhow funny it is. I can understand why people laugh.
“Hey.” Julien pats my head where it’s bowed down in front of him. “Hey, listen. Your parents are crazy; I won’t lie about that. But you know what?” He slides a hand underneath me and grabs my chin, coaxing me to sit up again. “Even before we’d actually had sex, even before I knew you at all, given the choice between sleeping with you and sleeping with Marilyn Monroe, I would choose you every damn time,chérie.”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
He twists my chin to make me shake my head back and forth.
“I’m not joking,ma belle. I’ve always thought Marilyn Monroe is highly overrated. I’ve never understood the hype. Also, I much prefer brunettes.”
He tugs my chin closer and leans in for a kiss.
* * *
A few days later,I’m sitting on a milk crate in the alley behind Taverne Toulouse. Spending ten minutes in this dank and shadowy alcove that always smells like garbage and spilt beer is my attempt to give myself a little sunshine and fresh air. I’ve been cooped up in my office all day, pounding away at paperwork, and the letters were starting to blur in front of my eyes.
I pull my phone out to give Roxanne a call. We haven’t had a chance to catch up in way too long, and of course, there’s no way I can actually let myself sit still without finding a way to multitask. Hopefully she’ll pick up and we can get a quick chat in before I head back to my desk.
“Wow, look at you, done work by 5PM!” she greets me.
“I’m not done,” I admit. “I’m just taking a break.”
“Monroe,” she chides, “5PM is not break time. 5PM is home time.”
“What a beautiful dream that is.”
I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “And Cole saysI’ma workaholic.”
