The Book of Salt - Monique Truong [123]
Within minutes, I am back on the docks standing in a crowd of waving well-wishers, bidding "safe journey" to those aboard the SS Champlain. For GertrudeStein and Miss Toklas, I expand upon the general sentiment and add the word "home."
Believe me, I was never so naive as Basket and Pépé. I realized early on that I, like those two dogs, was never going to see America. Not with GertrudeStein and Miss Toklas, that is. I held no resentment toward my Mesdames. By the sound of those hotel menus, their culinary needs would be well taken care of in the months to come. So when my Madame and Madame requested that I accompany them to Le Havre, I did not hesitate to say yes. From the number of trunks that were lining up against the walls of the studio, I knew that GertrudeStein and Miss Toklas would require an extra pair of eyes to ensure that the first leg of their journey went smoothly, that nothing of importance would be left behind. In exchange, Miss Toklas asked me whether I wanted a round-trip train ticket back to Paris or the amount in cash so that I could purchase a one-way ticket to some other destination. With this question, I again did not hesitate. "The money, please," I replied. I did not know where I wanted to go after Le Havre. So asking for cash as opposed to a prepaid ticket was my way of making no decision at all.
In the weeks prior to my Mesdames' departure, I must admit that I had slipped out of 27 rue de Fleurus for a number of post-midnight, mid-workweek drinks. When I am in Paris, I suffer from the delusion that drinking will help me think. It does not. I, unfortunately, did not remember this until I was broke. Another summer in Bilignin had built up my tolerance for alcohol, one that my limited budget could not sustain back in Paris, the City of Lights and, I would add, Very Expensive Drinks. This past summer, my Mesdames' sixth and my fifth in Bilignin, the farmers had been more generous than ever. When I got off the train, I was dressed all in white and without the customary hat, and they, in their own way, understood that that meant that I was in mourning. I did not have to tell them in words that my mother had passed away during the first full moon of the year. When it became clear to the farmers of Bilignin, after the first couple of weeks, that my traveling outfit was going to be my attire for the rest of the summer, they wondered aloud whether I was also mourning a lost lover. When I asked them why they would say such a thing, they claimed that they have seen lost love turn a man's hair white so why would it not do the same to his clothes? I did not have to tell them in words that Lattimore had gone, that an unseasonably warm February day had come to Paris and taken him away, leaving nothing behind in his garret except wide-open windows, still wet walls, and a warm Buddha belly stove that I, in a moment of longing, stooped down and embraced. But, of course, let me not forget the pithy note of thanks. A man of good breeding through and through, Lattimore wanted me to know that he was grateful for all that I had given him in exchange for what turned out to be a half-paid-for photograph of a satisfied customer and me.
You are more than welcome, Lattimore, or shall I call you "Monsieur"? If you care to know, if you are ever denied a minute of sleep when you close your eyes and you see the silver glint of guilt at your throat, please rest assured that my Mesdames have yet to discover their loss. In my long experience with broken dishes, misplaced silverware, and similar unforeseen removal of personal effects, if Monsieur and Madame do not take note of the item's disappearance within the first week, then they are unlikely to ever. Or if they do notice, I am usually no longer in their employ and am no longer the paid recipient of the fine spittle of their rage. Words are words, I tell myself. Handwritten, typewritten, all were written by GertrudeStein, and as you would say, anything written by GertrudeStein is an original. Miss Toklas, I assure myself, must also have her usual three typewritten copies of