Page 149 - And the Mountains Echoed (novel)

remembered all the awkward gazes, all the times when they were alone, she and

Julien, Maman getting dressed in the next room, Julien looking at Pari and her
trying to think of something to say. Maman must have sensed it. Could it be the
reason she had ended it with Julien? If so, Pari had an inkling she’d done so
more as a jealous lover than a protective mother.
A few weeks later, Julien asked Pari to move in with him. He lived in a small
apartment on the Left Bank in the 7th arrondissement. Pari said yes. Collette’s
prickly hostility made for an untenable atmosphere at the apartment now.
Pari remembers her first Sunday with Julien at his place. They were reclined
on his couch, pressed against each other. Pari was pleasantly half awake, and
Julien was drinking tea, his long legs resting on the coffee table. He was reading
an opinion piece on the back page of the newspaper. Jacques Brel played on the

turntable. Every now and then, Pari would shift her head on his chest, and Julien
would lean down and place a small kiss on her eyelid, or her ear, or her nose.
“We have to tell Maman.”
She could feel him tightening. He folded the paper, removed his reading
glasses and put them on the arm of the couch.

“She needs to know.”
“I suppose,” he said.
“You ‘suppose’?”
“No, of course. You’re right. You should call her. But be careful. Don’t ask
for permission or blessing, you’ll get neither. Just tell her. And make sure she
knows this is not a negotiation.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Well, perhaps. Still, remember that Nila is a vindictive woman. I am sorry to
say this, but this is why it ended with us. She is astonishingly vindictive. So I
know. It won’t be easy for you.”
Pari sighed and closed her eyes. The thought of it made her stomach clench.

Julien stroked her back with his palm. “Don’t be squeamish.”
Pari called her the next day. Maman already knew.
“Who told you?”
“Collette.”
Of course, Pari thought. “I was going to tell you.”

“I know you were. You are. It can’t be hidden, a thing like this.”
“Are you angry?”
“Does it matter?”

Pari was standing by the window. With her finger, she absently traced the