I have a very nice bedroom in Cornichons. What is particularly nice about it is that when the old outside blinds are closed there is a wonderful light inside. During these long, lazy summer afternoons there is a soft, dark light inside that almost seems to be the breeze that blows through. As though the breeze and the light are one. You almost bathe in it.
My bedroom is gray. The color of noninvolvement. That’s what the color test I once took told me. Perhaps that’s right. When you are in your bedroom you want to be shut away from all the concerns of daily life that require battle. My bed has a black-and-white cotton bedspread with a pattern of a fish upon it. The sign of Aquarius. Another indication of uninvolvement. The slippery fish darting here and there. I have a beautiful art deco dressing table and small armoire I bought from Monsieur Malbon, down the river in Folies de Grandeur. Monsieur Malbon buys entire households of furniture from families who have inherited from an ancient aunt or grandmother. He puts the best pieces in his shop and the rest are in storage. Every barn and garage and attic in Folies de Grandeur is full with Monsieur Malbon’s things. He took me to a very large old barn near his home, which was crammed with armoires and tables and chairs and bureaus and sideboards and mirrors. That was when we first came here. The last year of francs before we started using euros. A large mirror was marked “25.” Twenty-five francs, about five dollars. I said, “Twenty-five?” in disbelief and he said, “Twenty. Take it for twenty.” Which I did. It’s over the fireplace in the green dining room.
I have a red chaise lounge with an old plaid blanket on it in my bedroom, too. A beautiful art deco hanging ceiling fixture. And there you have it. The fireplace wall is paneled, and Graham and I spent weeks scraping layers of paint from it. Every evening I would say, “Oh, hell, let’s just paint it tomorrow.” And every morning we would get up and decide to forge forward because what we had done looked so good.
At night in this room the old streetlights in front of the Abbey throw a pattern from the shutters across the ceiling. Each window has its own pattern, and they crisscross on the ceiling. If you wake up in the middle of the night it is very comforting to see the beautiful pattern, so unlike any other bedroom I’ve ever seen or slept in.
And, of course, I have Graham here, also. It is as much his bedroom as mine. In my first marriage, I decorated everything. I was the person who worked in fashion. We had a home that looked as though it might be somewhere in the French countryside, even if it was in New York. Now I am here in the French countryside, and this house looks nothing like the New York one. Graham and I really have similar enough taste that we can create rooms together. He let me have the lavender living room, which is probably pretty girly, but the rest of the house is quite spare.
This is a good bedroom in which to be in the arms of your lover. I still think of Graham as my lover, even with one child down and another on the way. I think that he has a quality special to him alone of being loveable and full of love at the same time. He is not distracted with a business life or the concerns of most adult males. He doesn’t seem to be particularly concerned with what other men think of him. That is a wonderful quality in a man. I think most men . . . American men at least . . . live their lives for the inspection of other men.
Of course, the fact that Graham isn’t pursuing power means that he has no real career. He has his beauty, and he has his acting talent, and he is an efficient and capable organizer. But he always seems distant when he is doing those capable things. I’d hate to see him in an office situation. It would erode and destroy all that is wonderful about him. But soon he is going to feel that life is slipping by and all he has to show for it is me. Me and the children. And no one can isolate themselves completely from the regard of the world.
Hopefully, his working with Toca Sacar and the children may lead us out of this maze. I can hear Theo stirring in his room. I must get up now from my afternoon nap and go back into this world where we are all observed.