Ellen Sussman - French Lessons

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French Lessons is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Ballantine Books Trade Paperback Original

Copyright 2011 by Ellen Sussman

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

B ALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Sussman, Ellen.
French lessons : a novel / Ellen Sussman.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-345-52279-5
1. AmericansFranceParisFiction. 2. French languageStudy and teachingFiction. 3. Tutors and tutoringFiction.
4. Paris (France)Fiction. I. Title.
PS3619.U845F74 2011
813.6dc22 2010042458

Illustrations copyright 2011 by Juliette Lemontey. Used by permission.
Maps by Ilsa Brink
Part-opening art (handwriting): iStockphoto

www.ballantinebooks.com

Cover design: Mucca Design
Cover images: plainpicture/Richard Jenkins (French windows), plainpicture/Mia Takahara (woman)

v3.1_r1

For Gillian and Sophie, my Parisian girls,
and for Neal, mon amour

rilliant sunlight spills through the windows of the Vivre la Franaise language school. It has been raining for daysfor weeksand the sudden flash of sun through a break in the clouds causes everyone in the dreary office to stop for a moment and turn their faces toward the light. Its early morning and no one is quite awakeone young woman murmurs, Bonjour, soleil. Nico smiles. Then the door slams and everyone stirs, suddenly alert. Nico blinks and looks around, hoping for a sign of what he already knows: Somethings different. Its not just the sun. Its the day, new and promising. Every corner of the office looks sun-washed and bright. Even the ghostly girl behind the desk offers Nico a half smile when she hands him his daily work sheet.

Sure enough, todays teaching assignment promises something newJosie Felton. He likes the name. Its so very American, and he imagines a blond, ponytailed girl, ready to conquer Paris. His Paris. Hell show her the way. He tucks the computer printout with her name and the details of their lessonmeeting time, duration, level of French, areas of concentrationinto his back pocket.

Its time to meet Chantal at the caf.

Nico walks out of the language school onto rue de Paradis. Before he turns to the corner restaurant, he looks down the street in the other direction. Something has caught his attentiona gasp, the rustle of fabric, a bare arm. He squints in the sun and sees two people at the end of the street. A woman pushes a man up against the wall of the building. Her arms, bare and tattooed, a lightning flash zigzagging across tan flesh, pin the mans shoulders. She leans in for a kiss that takes a long time. Someone pushes through the door behind Nico and bumps into him.

Sorry, he says and steps aside.

Nico looks back. The woman saunters away. The man runs his hand through his hair and walks toward Nico. Its Philippe. Nicos first thought is of Chantaldid she see the kiss? He looks toward the caf and Chantal is there, sitting at a table outside, reading a book. Nico takes a breath.

Philippe reaches him in a second and smacks his arm.

Im late, man, Philippe says in French. Order me an espresso.

Got it, Nico says.

Philippe heads into the language school and the door swings closed behind him.

Nico, Philippe, and Chantal have coffee together on Monday and Friday mornings after they get their assignments at the school. There are other French instructorswho teach regular classes rather than individual sessions, mostly older men and women who seem to have nothing in common with these threethough sometimes Nico wonders what he has in common with Philippe. Maybe they only really share one thing: an attraction to Chantal.

Nico hurries to the caf. He can see the curve of Chantals neck as she peers at her novel, her umbrella perched at her side, her cardigan neatly buttoned. He thinks of her in bed last week, after they made love, her hair fanned across the pillow, her body beaded with sweat, her features soft. A different person. He wants both of them.

He leans over and gives her a kiss on each cheek, then slides into the chair next to her. He smells her perfume, something that reminds him of the Mediterranean, and he has the odd sensation of stepping into the cool water of the sea. He looks aroundthe caf is crowded and noisyand every conversation seems too loud and hurried. A man shouts at the driver of a car who blasts his horn in response. Nico imagines a different caf, somewhere in Provence. Lets drive to the sea, he would say.

He can feel the heat of the newly hatched sun on his back. Chantal tilts her head and looks at him as if she wants to read his thoughts. When they made love she pulled him onto her, so that all the space between them disappeared. Now he feels the need to touch her. First her mouth, where there is a hint of a smile. Her lips are full and he sees that she has worn lipstick. Does she always wear lipstick?

Philippe is late, he says in French. Hell be here soon.

Of course, she says.

Do you have your American again? he asks.

The last day, she tells Nico. Im a little sad about it.

Hes stolen your heart?

She shakes her head. He hasnt tried.

And if he tried?

Hes a happily married man, she says. There arent many of them. Its good to find one once in a while.

Nico imagines Chantal next to him in a convertible, like a young Catherine Deneuve, a scarf around her hair, the sea stretching along the coast, the road twisting through green hills, the air full of the smell of lavender.

The waiter appears. Hes young, bored, and reeks of last nights booze. Nico wants to tell the kid to go home and take a shower. When he looks around the caf, he realizes that most of the customers are younger than he is. Hes thirty-two years oldwhen did he become an old guy? Nico orders a caf crme and an espresso for Philippe. When the waiter leaves, Nico waves the stale air away.

And you? Chantal asks. Who do you have today?

A woman. I dont know if shes young or old. Also American. High level of French.

Lucky you.

Apparently shes a high school French teacher. Why would a French teacher need a tutor for a day?