| Subject: À la Vie! – Chapter 7 |
Author:
Diane
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Date Posted: Sunday, October 24, 05:58:33am
In reply to:
Diane
's message, "À la Vie!" on Tuesday, October 19, 01:16:54am
Chapter 7
Michael hated living with his aunt and uncle. They refused to let him tell Martine that he was her brother, though the physical resemblance between them was remarkable. Both had dark chestnut curls and grey-green eyes that changed color with their mood. Even at age five, Martine had noticed the similarity and commented on it, but was told that “Michel was a very close cousin.” They also refused, despite his constant requests, to call him Michael. “Michel is a good French name,” they told him. He should be proud of his heritage.
As soon as he was able, Michael entered the Sorbonne, where he studied Art and Art History. He actually had a very acute business sense, and ultimately planned to open art galleries all over the world. His father, who had planned on Michael becoming an engineer or a chemist, did not blink when he was informed of his son’s chosen path. He knew Michel was doing this to spite him. Michael graduated with an advanced degree and, although the younger man visited his father at his new residence in Turkey, the Samuelles never really reconciled.
Of all the places she had lived, Nikita preferred Sunny Day Nursery the best. At fifteen, she was the oldest child there, but she loved taking care of the little ones, and the sisters were grateful for the extra help. Although she declined to speak of them, the sisters knew that Nikita often had nightmares, for she would cry out in her sleep. Sometimes she would ask for Michael, who they assumed was a sibling from whom she had been separated. She didn’t let her conscious self think of her nine years at Roberta’s house, or her three years off-and-on in the foster care system. Some of the foster homes were okay—not really loving, but a safe place to sleep where she was well fed. Some were worse than living with Roberta, and it was these she got in trouble for running away from. She had lived at other children’s homes, but Sunny Day was the first place where Nikita actually felt “at home.”
It came with great surprise, then, and much dismay, when the sisters told her it was time for her to leave them. She was to be given the job as au pair to a diplomat and his wife, who had recently come to inhabit the embassy of the French ambassador to Australia. They had twins who were three years old who spoke no English, and Nikita was to be their nanny and teacher. Nikita didn’t want to leave what had become her first real home, but Sister Adrian pointed out what a wonderful opportunity this was for her. She would be exposed to a new language, to new cultures, and would be living in the lap of luxury. Nikita thought of Michael then, and realized it must have been his father who was the former ambassador, and that Michael had lived in that very house. She acquiesced.
At twenty-two, Michael opened his first gallery. It was located in Marseilles, as he wanted the Samuelle name to mean something in the place of his birth. Many of the works on display were his own, as he did not yet have the capital to invest in other artisans or pieces of art. Fortunately, Michael was very talented both as a painter and a sculptor, and his opening drew rave reviews. He was greatly relieved, as were his two other investors, Seymour and Jason Birkoff.
After being expelled from Culver, the Birkoff brothers eschewed higher education in favor of traveling around the world on their trust funds. Fortunately, these were considerable, and the Birkoffs had ample cash available to invest in Samuelle’s, more than Michael did, actually. They had great faith in Michael as both an artist and a businessman, and they knew their money was wisely invested.
Nikita could never have predicted how much fun she would have had as an au pair. The twins, Georges and Lisette, were adorable, and Madame Fanning was like a mother to her. Immediately after Nikita arrived, Madame Fanning (“you must call me Lisa”) took her shopping for a whole new wardrobe. Nikita thought that she would be wearing a uniform, but Lisa pooh-poohed that idea and bought her every outfit a fifteen-year old girl could possible want. She got jeans (that were long enough), blouses (with sleeves the right length), skirts (both modest and “fun”), and sweaters (that were actually warm). She bought serviceable flannel pyjamas, as well as nightgowns that felt like silk. And underwear that had never been worn by anyone else!
The children learned English rapidly, although with more than a touch of Nikita’s Aussie twang. She learned some remedial French as well: Bon jour. Comment allez-vous? Je suis parfait. Ma nom est Nikita. Quel est votre nom? She taught the twins their colors—red, yellow, blue, green, orange, purple, black and white. They taught them back to her in French--rouge, jaune, bleu, vert, orange, pourpre, noir and blanc. The children howled with laughter at her accent.
Two years flew by, and at seventeen, Nikita was asked to make a life-altering decision. The ambassador was being transferred back to Marseilles. Nikita could come with them and continue as their nanny, with pay, or stay in Sydney and look for another job. Lisa Fanning assured her that she would give Nikita the best of references if she decided to stay. Nikita asked her if she could give them an answer in the morning.
She didn’t know anyone in France. On the other hand, she really had no friends in Sydney. In France she had a guaranteed job. In Sydney she was on her own. Again. Her French sucked. But the Fannings spoke English. Nikita forced herself to face the biggest stumbling-block to her decision—what if he comes back and he can’t find me because I’m not here? She made herself say it out loud. “What if Michael comes to Sydney, and he can’t find me because I’m in France?” She smiled at the absurdity of the situation. She hadn’t seen Michael in ten years. They had only been together for two days. Why would he ever come back? For her??
Nikita made her decision.
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