Today it was a low of 6 and a high of 17 and we all got high that the sun was out and went out and I put on lipstick and a scarf but it was even too warm for the scarf and dad was right with his bare hands and neck and head and the sky was that pre-spring-threatening-summer blue and the steps didn’t even hurt and the metro SMELT GOOD (my god I knew it must have been a while) and we walked and walked and the merry-go-round was silent at St Paul and the Rue Francois Miron was loud and dad bought Kiki a mobile, the one with the boat moving through the sky and the little suitcase and the kite and he also bought a little ball with a bell in it and we found just the right thing for Bunny Sister and her Bunny Beau and Mr Tugny who does fancy handwriting remembered us and our wedding and gave me a free plume and that was just really really nice.
So we sat on the Isle and dad got blind and I put my Raybans on him and we joked about Roy Orbison and he still couldn’t see but the wine and the beer and the Orangina was good and people kept smiling at me and saying Pardon much more than usual and I forgot I was Violet Beauregarde until I saw my reflection in the mirror at the Little Horseshoe. A big, round beach-ball. A woman. A baker. A bun. Goodness me, it gave me a fright and I was in the thoroughfare and though the waiters were nice they nudged me and Kiki gently sometimes into the table, which just made her cancan even harder. And then we went to Les Philosophes and ate all kinds of flesh and talked about existentialism and realised we were just so glad we’d pre-ordered the tarte tatin because golly it was good - one of those real, tumbly, messy, sticky ones.
In the rue Vieille du Temple there were still blinking fairy lights in windows and I thought That’s Late but then I wondered if they had put them up and decided not to take them down like we did one year and I just couldn’t help but feel all full but I had an icecream anyway because dad had to pee and what can you do when you’re waiting outside an icecream shop and they are doing that flower thing? Seriously.
I enjoyed the metro home once more and I thought a lot about my bike and that feeling I’d get on evenings like this flying through the streets on her and a man got up and let me sit down, which I did, though it made me feel weird and I saw Violet again in the window as the dark walls flashed by and I couldn’t quite believe she was me and after the big lift up from the deep deep tunnel at Lamarck the night was that intense royal blue and all sorts of sexy people were at Le Refuge and little lanterns were lit on the tables outside and we decided not to stop and I made it all the way down the stairs and home and so did The Love and so did dad though he was really tired and I showed him the red champignon lamp, though he reckons red is wrong for kids and then he fell promptly to sleep on the couch.
And now he is snoring.
His glasses are on.
The windows are open.
The traffic is loud.
Sexy people are laughing in the street.
The man in the window is topless again.
Summer will come.
And I won't be Violet much longer.