Marcel's posture is very straight as if he was tensed, but I remember too clearly how he got annoyed when I told him that, replying he only had a good posture. So, I can't really read if he is being at ease or stressed. Sophie has made herself very quiet since he got here. I am a bit disappointed, but I make sure to always keep her glass of wine filled.
Since neither of us is making conversation and I know Marcel's hate for small talk, I can't start talking about irrelevant things like the weather or how was everyone's day. But thinking about work makes me remember to tell Marcel about what went on in the elevator before I left.
I tell them both what happened when Paul got in the lift with Edith and I. I quickly add the idea I spontaneously had, which surprises both of them, but not in the same way.
"You volunteered to go to the book fair? Why would you do that? Your book is not even published..." Marcel frowns as it differs from the immediate joy Sophie's expressed me on her traits.
"I know that. That's why I asked your mum if we could publish the three first chapters that we would be distributing as a gift at the Wright Books section of the book fair. It'll do amazing publicity until the book finally comes out. We'll have established already a public." I reply with drive and passion on my idea.
He looks at me in silence, wearing the same cold grin he always has. His eyes gaze intently at me. He seems lost in his thoughts. I lose a bit of my enthusiasm to look at his expressionless response to my idea. I am very proud of it, so why wouldn't he think so too?
"What did they say?" He finally wonders, thinking this through.
"Paul was instantly happy about it. He was actually surprised I had this idea. He has clearly underestimated me. He was all for it. With the both of us, it was all the more easy to convince your mum. She was resistant, thinking about all the cost it would have without having anything in return. But Paul explained the marketing aspect of this strategy and how it could bring us many more readers."
"But the demographic going to these events are ranged at a higher age than the target public your story will attract." He justifies, still reluctant to the idea, but understanding the points I am making.
"Exactly. It widens our range. If the people there get the book for free, they will be more inclined to take it and read it. If they don't like it, they might give it to friends or children that might appreciate it more. Either way, people will read it, know about it and talk about it."
"I see. So, you're telling me we have to review and publish your three first chapter in a week?!" He finally gets around the idea, but realises the amount of work we will be under next week. He is right. I didn't fully think this through.
"Yes! Thank God you had beautiful maquettes already made for the book. But since it's just a taste, we don't need to have the final version of the cover. And since I'll be there as well, we don't have to put my picture on the back. So the photoshoot we have already scheduled in three weeks doesn't have to change."
"You're telling me you'll be going to Edinburgh next weekend?" Sophie quickly realises, getting alarmed.
"I am." I nod to her and turn back my attention on Marcel, still heavily thinking this through. I have no idea what he thinks of this. I am a bit disappointed, because at the moment, in the elevator, Paul made me feel like I was a marketing genius. I'd hoped my editor would have thought the same... or at least my lover. "I was actually hoping you would join me..."
I don't even have the time to daydream about what we could do and what it would be like that he responds.
"I won't."
"What?! You won't or you can't?"
"I can't. And even if I wanted to I couldn't have, I can't have anyone knowing about you and me."
"You are my editor, Mace. Nobody will ever suspect a thing."
"Paul will be there." He only responds back to me.
"Exactly. I don't have a car. Do you really want me to drive all this way with him and other employees?"
"I'm pretty sure Mum has arranged the trip to be in train."
"I don't care. It's not the point. It's just that I would much rather be spending all that time with you than him." I try to make him change his mind, but that stubborn fuck is not saying or reacting at all.
It takes a very long time before he finally says something.
"We'll see." He only says and it concludes our conversation on that topic. I am happy with that maybe.
-
We are done eating since a while, but the wine keeps flowing. I get up to take the third bottle of white wine and open it to serve Sophie another glass. Marcel and I have sipped on our first glass since he arrived. I serve my friend and then myself. I look at Marcel and he shakes his head slightly refusing another glass. I like that Sophie gets loose that way. Her interactions with my boyfriend are less robotic to seem like genuine interest.
I walk by him and put a hand on his shoulder to slide all the way back to his other as I sit by his side. I let my hand take his to put it on my thigh as he keeps talking to my roommate. I rest my hand on his and entwine my fingers slightly with his.
"Isn't there any other job you would be appealed to apply on at the office?" Marcel asks Sophie as we have talked about her upbringing and what has made her move from Manchester to London. "I get you wanted a job with your friend, but now that she's gone..."
"I quite love my job. I am not such a careerist. I answer the phone, welcome the people, guide them through the different companies in our building. I get to play my games on the computer and chat with my boyfriend as I work. Really, I am happy." She nods at how her job isn't stressful at all.
"The secretary on our floor should leave in a couple of months. She is pregnant. So, she'll take her maternity leave if you are ever interested to work more jointly with Mum. I remember you said you joined our offices because of your admiration for her books." Marcel adds with a genuine generosity. It surprises me.
"You remember?" Sophie lets out, being very perplex for a second.
"Yes. I can tell you when to apply so that you'll have an advantage on the other candidates."
"Thank you. I would like that." Her smile grows on her lips and she grins at me before hiding behind her glass of wine. She puts it down with another spark in her eyes, curiosity. "What about you, Marcel? Have you always known you wanted to be an editor?"
He takes back his hand on my thigh and I move to lean an elbow on the table to look at him better. He straightens himself on his seat and his eyes move, clearly lost in his thoughts. He seems colder than before, but only because I realise it's about his past and his father maybe. He always closes himself up when we talk about his past.
"No... I lost myself and I had to experiment lots of things to know I wanted to come back to the company."
"Why would you want to do anything else? The company is yours..." Sophie tries to understand.
Marcel sighs and responds with a deep calm, but he is definitely more guarded than in our previous conversations. We succeeded to make him relax, I am sorry we lost that achievement. He says very little details when he answers.
"It was easy when my father was still alive. I wanted to be just like him. Him being gone, I was lost. I had to figure out who I was and not stand in his shadow."
"I'm sorry. It must have been hard..." She smiles sympathetically.
"It was. It is. To this day, I am still in his shadow. I am not seen for the employee and the studies I have made. To everyone there, I am the Editor's boy, having everything so easy." He looks down and sighs profoundly. He seems to find his strength and looks back up with the same unfathomable expression he always has.
"How did you know it was still what you wanted to do?" I ask him, taking advantage of him being so open to answering questions on a topic that has been so slippery to talk about with him.
"I love to read and write. It was beyond me. I had to study literature. Stories make me dream. They take me on a journey. Younger, it was my safe haven, my great escape. I found that comfort again when I lost my dad. I had worked in the company my whole life. I knew that's what I wanted to keep doing, but in a professional way. I didn't want to be the Editor's son and yet, ten years later, it's what I still am to employees like Paul or to the whole seventh floor or even to my mum..." Marcel admits and I feel just how deep is his confession. I see how tense he had become.
He takes his sunglasses in his hand and runs his other one through his locks before sliding them back on his head. I instinctively put my hand on his thigh and rub his jeans gently to support him the best way that I can.
"What have you done when you said you were looking for yourself? You've told me you were in the RAF, when was that?" I ask him with great attention.
"I had just passed my GCSEs when I enrolled. I wanted to get away from all the drama in my life and at work. I wanted to deal with my grief away from everyone. Mum was too occupied with taking over the company, so I was left alone anyway." He looks at his empty glass of wine and doesn't glance away from it. "I needed to start fresh where people wouldn't care who I was. I had always been fascinated with flying, so I got my pilot license."
"Did you like it?"
"I did. It was a drama free environment. I got to study more things. I love to learn, so it wasn't a problem. I had my nose always in a book, so I was happy. "
"Then, why did you come back?"
He looks at me and doesn't respond. His breathing changes, his chest seems to rise higher, but nothing on his face changes. I can't read his mind. I get very curious to know what exactly is going on in his mind right now.
"I had to..." He breaks our gaze. I look at him like a zoo animal, I study his comportement. I feel his hand take a hold of mine before I see his eyes looking for mine. "And I am glad I did."
His hand squeezes mine three times and it's enough to make my heart rage with fire. Its beating increases in my chest and it makes me smile widely. I bring his hand to my lips and kiss it repeatedly quickly before I set it back on his thigh.
"We haven't talked about you at all, Love." Marcel seems to relax now that he has changed the subject and gives me his attention.
"What do you want to know? I am an open book." I giggle slightly after I've responded, genuinely happy he is curious about me.
"Mmh, let me object to that a second. We've known each other for what... two months? We live together, but I know barely a single thing about you. I don't even know what is your favourite colour." Sophie immediately exclaims.
"Red."
"Sorry?"
"Her favourite colour is red, like the roses. It's the first flower you've ever received. It was from your father, if I remember correctly." Marcel responds and it charms everything inside of me. I am surprised he knows about this, I have never told him.
"How do you know that?" I frown with a pleasant smirk.
"I just know."
"What else do you know?" Sophie clearly sees this as a game and leans her elbows on the table to begin her interrogation. "When's her birthday?"
"Halloween." He responds as quickly as it was asked. She looks at me to agree on the answer. He's right.
"What's her favourite movie?"
"Titanic."
"Favourite book?"
"Les Misérables."
"Favourite dish?"
"I would bet on the Nando's mashed potatoes." I nod endlessly with a huge smirk on my lips.
"The superpower she would want to have?" Sophie grins, thinking he doesn't have an answer for that question.
"Mmh... I don't know that one. I would guess... To be invisible." He looks at me, waiting for an answer on his guess. I shake my head. He is wrong.
"If I could have one superpower, I would fly." I look at Sophie first, but give Mace all my attention when I feel him squeeze my hand three times.
I don't get instantly why he did, but with the way he is looking at me, I feel like the most special woman in the world. It takes a long time for me to realise what is happening. He told us a couple of minutes ago how he found himself again when he was in the RAF and learned to fly. It must be a pretty special feeling for him to pilot a plane. It gets me instantly super excited that maybe one day he would want to bring me with him on a flight somewhere.
As I realise that he indeed knows a lot of stuff about me, if the role were reversed, I would know very little about him. I don't know the answers to these questions. Maybe that's why I can't tell him that I love him. I don't even know him. I know traits of his personality. I know some things about him, but there is still lots to learn.
"What don't you know about me?" I try to joke and change a bit the subject and maybe get him to ask me questions about myself, something he rarely does.
"Why you wasted your time with someone like Steeve." He says very bluntly and I get stunned by his question.
"If you don't mind answering it, I would like to know the answer as well." Sophie adds. "Because I don't understand, if he was so awful, why you would have stayed with him that long..."
With so much pressure to answer, I can't just dismiss that question. I sigh and take my hand back from Marcel's hand. I lean both of my elbows on the table and lay my head on my hands. My head spins with memories and reasons why I stayed that long with him. I dig back to how we got together. It seems like it was a lifetime ago.
"Steeve and I have always gone to the same schools. We were always in the same classes. I used to be the only ginger in the whole school with very gentle porcelain skin. It didn't take long for the nicknames to be given to me. It followed me to secondary school. He was the leader of the mean boys. He was taller and bigger than the other boys from school. He played rugby and he was working out, so he was the cool kid of the school. He made my life a living hell until the very last year. My brother had just gotten out of the College of Policing and William made it his mission to thicken my skin. He took me to the hairdresser and paid for my hair dye. Since William had a girlfriend, Simon used to spend his spare time with me. We would go shopping. We would go to the gym. Long story short, I got back to school that final year with a new look and more confidence than I had ever had. Steeve became sort of my protector, he wasn't seeing me as Fat Carrot like he used to call me in school. I was a woman. I was spending all of my time writing and reading and I wanted nothing to do with him, he had been my bully all my life. It turned out that he liked the chase. One thing led to another, I said yes to his demands and he became my first everything. He was all I ever knew. He was the first I ever kissed, the first I ever lived with, the first I ever slept with. To me, his behaviour was my normal. Everything he ever did was normal to me, because I never knew anything else. We lived our very busy lives with the little money we had. We followed our routine and everything was fine, because every week were the same. I didn't have any friends and he did not like my family, so I was never seeing them. I was sort of being cut out of the reality. All I ever wanted in my life was resumed with six small steps. Number one: Get my degree. Number two: Intern at the archives department of the Manchester Museum. Number three: Get a job there permanently. Number four: Get married. Number five: Get pregnant. Number six: Live happily ever after. He agreed to it and everything was alright. But Ronnie sent you my manuscript and suddenly, my dream was a possibility. My six steps changed. I wanted more. If my dreams were not dreams, but reality, then I was making it my reality to dream more. To want more. And what I wanted changed. My vision of life changed. I realised I was living in a toxic environment and getting out of it was giving me confidence. I was finding myself. And here we are today. I have a best friend with whom I can be honest and be my true self with. My story is getting published. But most of all, I have a man who puts up with me as I am discovering life by his side. A man who appreciates all of my quirkiness and my passionate side that I had always kept to myself. I have never been this happy before. It's not that I wasn't. I am just redefining the terms." I sigh and look up at them as I had been lost in my mind and too many memories. "What was your question again?"