was an art being the mother of adult children, and it hadn’t come easily to her. They had left a tremendous void in her life when they moved away, which she never said to them. There was no reason to make them feel guilty for growing up, however challenging it was for her. It was up to her to make her peace with it, and she had, as best she could. And seeing her younger son always gave her a boost for weeks. He made her feel so welcome while she was there, and seemed so genuinely happy to spend time with her. She was always careful not to work when she was with her children, so they had her full attention.
They took his new girlfriend, Annaliese, to dinner that night. She was a sweet girl from Stuttgart, an art student, and she worshipped Eric. She clearly thought he was a genius, and Eric was mildly embarrassed by her unbridled adoration, but he was happy that Chantal liked her and seemed to approve, in spite of her many tattoos and facial pierces. Chantal was used to that look by now, on so many of his friends. His mother was just grateful that he had none himself.
It always amused her how different her children were from each other. Charlotte was the most conservative of the flock, and had always objected to her younger brother’s disreputable-looking Beaux-Arts friends and his lifestyle. She even accused her mother of being bohemian and expected her to dress for dinner when she came to Hong Kong to see her. And Paul had adopted every aspect of life in the States, including some serious bodybuilding and heavy workouts, and he had been a vegan for years. He always lectured his mother about her diet and took her to the gym with him to do cardio and Pilates when she was in L.A. She told Jean-Philippe that it had nearly killed her the last time, and she had warned him of the crazy fads his children might engage in when they grew up. But she was a good sport about it, and always heaved a sigh of relief when she got home and could do what she wanted again, eat what she wanted, dress as she pleased, and even smoke occasionally if she felt like it. The one advantage to living alone was that she could do whatever she chose to do, but it was small compensation for seeing so little of her children.
By the time Chantal left Berlin on Sunday night, she had stocked Eric’s refrigerator with the food he liked, changed all the burnt-out light bulbs in his apartment, cleaned it as best she could, repaired two shelves in his studio with her tool kit, replaced a broken lamp, taken him out for hearty meals at his favorite restaurants, and spent enough time with his new girlfriend to get to know her, at least superficially. They all went to the Hamburger Bahnhof museum on Saturday, which was one of Chantal’s favorites, and Eric and Annaliese enjoyed it too.
She held him close and hugged him when she left him at the airport, and fought back tears, so he wouldn’t realize how much she was going to miss him in the days ahead. Their time together had been precious, as it always was, and she boarded the plane to Paris with a heavy heart.
When the plane took off, she sat staring out the window mournfully as Berlin shrank beneath them, and she was still feeling sad to have left him when she landed in Paris and went to get her bag at baggage claim. It weighed a ton with her tool kit in it, but she was glad she’d brought it. She always put it to good use when she visited him. And she had taken dozens of photos of him with her cellphone, which she would print out and frame and put around her living room when she got home. She always did after visiting one of her children, as though to prove to herself that they still existed, even if she no longer saw them every day.
She was dragging her bag off the conveyor belt at the airport when she bumped into someone behind her, turned to apologize, and found herself looking into the face of the man who had done the lanterns and whom she’d seen at the Bon Marché when she bought the food to take to
They took his new girlfriend, Annaliese, to dinner that night. She was a sweet girl from Stuttgart, an art student, and she worshipped Eric. She clearly thought he was a genius, and Eric was mildly embarrassed by her unbridled adoration, but he was happy that Chantal liked her and seemed to approve, in spite of her many tattoos and facial pierces. Chantal was used to that look by now, on so many of his friends. His mother was just grateful that he had none himself.
It always amused her how different her children were from each other. Charlotte was the most conservative of the flock, and had always objected to her younger brother’s disreputable-looking Beaux-Arts friends and his lifestyle. She even accused her mother of being bohemian and expected her to dress for dinner when she came to Hong Kong to see her. And Paul had adopted every aspect of life in the States, including some serious bodybuilding and heavy workouts, and he had been a vegan for years. He always lectured his mother about her diet and took her to the gym with him to do cardio and Pilates when she was in L.A. She told Jean-Philippe that it had nearly killed her the last time, and she had warned him of the crazy fads his children might engage in when they grew up. But she was a good sport about it, and always heaved a sigh of relief when she got home and could do what she wanted again, eat what she wanted, dress as she pleased, and even smoke occasionally if she felt like it. The one advantage to living alone was that she could do whatever she chose to do, but it was small compensation for seeing so little of her children.
By the time Chantal left Berlin on Sunday night, she had stocked Eric’s refrigerator with the food he liked, changed all the burnt-out light bulbs in his apartment, cleaned it as best she could, repaired two shelves in his studio with her tool kit, replaced a broken lamp, taken him out for hearty meals at his favorite restaurants, and spent enough time with his new girlfriend to get to know her, at least superficially. They all went to the Hamburger Bahnhof museum on Saturday, which was one of Chantal’s favorites, and Eric and Annaliese enjoyed it too.
She held him close and hugged him when she left him at the airport, and fought back tears, so he wouldn’t realize how much she was going to miss him in the days ahead. Their time together had been precious, as it always was, and she boarded the plane to Paris with a heavy heart.
When the plane took off, she sat staring out the window mournfully as Berlin shrank beneath them, and she was still feeling sad to have left him when she landed in Paris and went to get her bag at baggage claim. It weighed a ton with her tool kit in it, but she was glad she’d brought it. She always put it to good use when she visited him. And she had taken dozens of photos of him with her cellphone, which she would print out and frame and put around her living room when she got home. She always did after visiting one of her children, as though to prove to herself that they still existed, even if she no longer saw them every day.
She was dragging her bag off the conveyor belt at the airport when she bumped into someone behind her, turned to apologize, and found herself looking into the face of the man who had done the lanterns and whom she’d seen at the Bon Marché when she bought the food to take to