One Hundred Thirty-Five

“I assume you’ve never been to Paris before?” Richie asked after removing the lids from plates on the room service cart.  Two chicken salad croissants were laid out with strawberries and a creamy pasta salad.

“You assume correctly.”  Allegra tucked one foot underneath her bare bottom, his borrowed red t-shirt covering most everything of importance.  She admired his bare chest and unbuttoned jeans as he took the seat adjacent to hers at the dining table. 

They’d taken a short nap after their lovemaking, arms and legs entwined as though each was afraid the other would escape as they slept.  Allegra never actually fell asleep, just dozed intermittently, enjoying the feel of his arms around her and the steady rise and fall of his chest.  She had missed him more than she realized, and he was being abnormally clingy. It ramped back up the worry and confusion that she’d managed to let go while she was in his arms.

“I’ll take you up in the Eiffel Tower tonight after the concert.”

She studied him from under her lashes, noting that he didn’t seem to be looking forward to the prospect.  As a matter of fact, it sounded more like a court-ordered community service.

“That’s okay,” she declined politely, after swallowing the first bite of her croissant.  “We’re up so high that I can see pretty much everything from the terrace.  The sandwich is amazing.  Thank you.”

“Mm.”  He wiped crumbs from his face with the white linen napkin.  “You’re welcome.  It is pretty good, isn’t it?” 

Picking up a strawberry, he silently offered her a taste by placing it at her lips.  While she was chewing, he asked, “Why don’t you want to go up in the Tower?”

She finished the bite of strawberry slowly, unsure whether to tell him or not.  Oh well.  He’d preached honesty so often and loudly that there shouldn’t be a choice to make.

“Because you’re acting like it’s a burden, and I don’t have any interest in being a burden.”

“Am I?  I don’t mean to be.  I’d like to show it to you.”

“But…?”

“There’s no but,” he denied, popping a strawberry into his own mouth and chasing it with a swallow of Perrier.

He seemed to be acting normally, but she was afraid that ‘acting’ was the key word.  The usual openness between them was missing.  It was time for Mr. Sambora to start coming clean.

“Okay, you’ve got to talk to me,” she declared, balling up her napkin and tossing it atop her half-eaten lunch.  “I can’t stand this invisible wall between us anymore.  Stop being polite to me or I’m going to go out and give your room number to the women camped in front of the hotel while I go stay with David.”

He gave her a playful scowl, but at least had the good grace to look sheepish.  His unspoken admission of guilt relaxed her a bit.  At least he wasn’t trying to deny it.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Paris,” he revealed.  “Heather and I had a huge, insanely fancy wedding here.  This is my first time back since the divorce.  Am I excited about being here?  No.  But it’s time to make some new memories of Paris.”  He reached for her hand, twining their fingers together and kissing the back of her hand.  “And I want to do that with you.  So will you let me show you the Eiffel Tower?”

Nodding thoughtfully, Allegra felt like a piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place.  “Has Heather been calling to reminisce with you about Paris?”

He didn’t try and hide from it, calmly stating, “A couple of times.  She and Jack are on the outs and she’s lamenting our lost love, or some such crap.  It happens from time to time.  She decides she’s made a horrible mistake and that we had the perfect fairy tale life.”

“Oh?”  Her stomach clenched.  This was why Heather had been so nasty toward her.  She wanted her husband back.  “And what do you think?”

“I think we did the best we could, but she had trouble reconciling what she expected me to be and what I am.  It wouldn’t take long for reality to start screwing with her fantasy again.”

“So reconciliation wouldn’t work because she would end up unhappy.”  She freed her hand under the guise of sipping from her water glass.  “Not you.”

The late afternoon sun filtered through the panes of glass partition between the suite and the terrace.  There was a high wall that surrounded the terrace on the outside, and plush greenery gave the illusion of being in a small park rather than on a balcony high above busy Paris traffic.  It had shared its serenity with Allegra while she had awaited Richie’s arrival.  If she could get a wireless signal out there, she planned to do some homework while he was at sound check.

“No.”  His head tipped sideways until he was obstructing her view of the terrace, commanding her attention.  “Reconciliation wouldn’t work because we’re not right for each other.  It was never a partnership.”

“Is that why you were threatening a restraining order when you came in?”

He rose from the table, extending his hand toward her.  Wordlessly slipping her hand into his she followed him to the sofa, where he sat and gently tugged, inviting her to sit in his lap. 

She positioned her bottom in his lap and turned to tuck her feet under the adjoining seat cushion as she leaned on his shoulder.  Together they gently rocked, his hands resting loosely at her waist. 

“I wasn’t talking to Heather,” he said quietly after pressing a kiss to her temple.  “It was your mother.”

“What?!”  Her spine stiffened as though starched and ironed and she bolted into an upright sitting position.  “What the hell did she want?  To wish death on my unborn child again?  And how did she get your phone number?”  She tried to break free of Richie’s grasp to jump up and pace the floor, but his arms were firm around her waist.

Allegra had done her best not to let the ugly scene from Jon’s dining room haunt her, no matter how much it hurt.  How could a child not be hurt by its mother’s unequivocal rejection?   Nonetheless, she had moved forward, telling herself it was on Therese’s shoulders, not hers.  She had done nothing but live her life.  She was entitled to do that.  And she asked for very little in return.

It was too much to hope that her mother had just accepted the facts and moved on with her life.  It didn’t matter that to Allegra that Therese didn’t forgive her or share in her happiness.  If she had just quietly resigned herself to reality and said nothing it would’ve been good enough.

“Don’t get mad yet,” Richie soothed.  “There’s more to the story.”

“What?” she demanded.  “What could there possibly be that could excuse behavior requiring the threat of a restraining order?”

He sighed, urging her to rest against his chest again.  Her anger was something he hadn’t anticipated.  His mind was beyond this point, assimilating a way to deal with the emotions that would come after she knew.

“When we had your phone number changed, you forgot to give it to your parents, didn’t you?”

“I guess so,” she begrudgingly admitted.

“Right after we left for Europe your dad called Jon for the number, but Jon wouldn’t give it to him.  He actually stood by my ultimatum to your mother – that they would have to go through me to get to you – and gave him my number instead.”

She stiffened in his arms, eyes flashing with condemnation. “Right after you left?  Why didn’t you tell me?  What did he want?”

“Allegra.” He placed two fingers over her lips.  “If you stop getting all pissed off over everything coming out of my mouth, you’ll get the whole story a lot sooner.  Okay?”

He knew his girl wasn’t happy at being shushed, but she was smart enough to know he was right.  Her delicate frame stayed stiff against him even as she nodded her agreement. 

“The first thing he did was apologize for his behavior.”  When she drew a breath to speak, he pushed on before she could get a word in.  “He was in shock and upset the night of the dinner, both with the news of the baby and the way your mom was acting.  That’s why he just didn’t say anything at all.  Making a bad situation worse was the last thing he wanted.  He loves you and wants to make things right.”

“But why didn’t you tell me – “

“And the other thing he wanted to do was explain why your mom’s been acting the way she has,” he interrupted.  “I was going to call and talk to you about it that night, but…  Well, apparently your mom found my number and decided to start calling me herself.”

He stroked her hair, not wanting to be the one to break this news, but knowing that he was the one that should.  Nobody else had the connection with her that Richie did.  She had always responded to him, even when she was beyond angry.

“It seems that your mom started drinking a little bit after you left the cloister,” he finally disclosed, holding her firm when she would have leapt from his lap.  “Your dad said it wasn’t unmanageable, but he noticed a few more wine bottles in the trash.  Then you found out about your adoption.  He said that he really thought things were going to get better, but there were more wine bottles with a few hard liquor empties thrown in on top.  He tried to get her to talk to him or see a counselor, but she wouldn’t have any part of it.  I guess your mom is an angry drunk, which explains her behavior at the last couple of dinners.”

Her chin fell to her chest and he could see the wheels spinning and the load of guilt preparing to dump itself upon her shoulders.  Well, not if he could help it.  Those shoulders had borne enough already, and he gently massaged them as an act of silent comfort.

“It got even worse after the baby announcement.  According to your dad, she drinks to wake up, make it through the day and get to sleep at night.  In between she’s taken to calling me.”

“What’s she saying?”

His hands stilled at her dejection, unsure whether he had the heart to repeat Therese’s drunken ramblings.  It would take an idiot not to know Allegra was already blaming herself for this.  But if she didn’t find out now – from him – she’d find out later.  At least he was here to take care of her.

“Let me start by saying she doesn’t really know what she’s saying.  She’s so far gone by the time she calls, I’m amazed that she can hit the right buttons.”

“Tell me.”

Arms poised to resume their lockdown position around her middle, he took a deep breath.  “She says it’s not too late.  If I would break it off with you, she’s sure that you would come home.  It’s only a matter of time until you lose the baby.  That it can’t be God’s will, because that’s not what He told her...”

Allegra’s ears buzzed and the remainder of what he said was nothing but gibberish.  There was no effort to rise from her position in his lap.  If anything, she sagged into him further.

She couldn’t believe it.  Her strong, capable mother.  The woman who had ruled her life with a velvet-clad iron fist had become an unrecognizable mess.  The fact that it offered an explanation for her uncharacteristic behavior was of little comfort.  It was easier to be angry with her than to feel helpless.

“You wouldn’t really get a restraining order would you?”

Her voice was tiny, even to her own ears and she despised herself for it. 

“Not unless she threatened to hurt you or Bug.  I mostly said it to shock her back to reality – not that it worked.”  He stroked her hair regretfully.  “I’m sorry, Sunshine.  Your dad’s doing what he can to get her some help.  Whatever else you may think, don’t think it’s your fault.”

“I don’t,” she assured him quietly.  This wasn’t her tragedy to bear and she’d been the needy victim far too often lately.  Richie had enough going on without having to coddle her on top of it all.  She would contact her father and see what she could do to help.  There really wasn’t anything else she could do.  Her mother was a strong woman.  It would be okay.  At some point God would have no choice but to let normalcy back into her life. 

She hoped.

“I have to call Daddy.”  She gingerly untangled herself from him, dropping a kiss on his lips after she stood.  “Can you show me how to make an international call?”