Rêveries

Chapter 55.

Qualifying day, Saturday, Charles is hopeful. We wake up together with the sun shining in on us. Canada was good for him and it makes him feel like he might have another good weekend. I let him talk about it as much as he wants during breakfast. I don't understand everything he's talking about but I know enough to not be too confused. I've been hearing about it for enough years to find it embarrassing when I don't know something about the sport.

We eat breakfast together before he goes to get ready for the day, while I get into a bikini and meet up with Evie at the pool. We don't feel the need to watch every session, since the practice ones have no effect on the race. So we decided to relax and try to work a bit on our tans during the third practice session. We end up sharing one sunbed to watch the session on my phone, watching Charles be the third quickets, Max fifth and Pierre sixth.

After the session we had to get ready for walking into qualifying, because I don't need another bad photo for people to use the next time they decide that they hate me. Since the video of Max and Pierre got out yesterday, twitter has cooled down completely. My mentions died out and some people posted half-assed apologies as if it would make anything better. It just felt better to know that I wasn't going to get bashed for simply being there, and now I don't feel like hiding as much anymore.

I got a black, off shoulder t-shirt and a pair of loose leggings. As I walked into the bathroom to do my makeup, my phone vibrated, and when I looked at the screen I saw it was my mother calling. She had called me three times since Pascale told me my mother knows about Charles and I, and I've managed to dodge her every time. I told her I was at a practice, a costume fitting or literally anything else just to avoid it. But now I need to tell her about Charles and I coming to Sweden together in two weeks, so I can't ignore her that much longer.

"Salut maman," I say carefully when I put the phone to my ear.

"Ma propre fille m'ignore," My own daughter is ignoring me, she immediately accuses. I put the phone on speaker and put it next to me so I can continue my makeup while talking to her. "Es-tu vivant?" Are you alive?

"Oui je suis vivant, j'ai juste été occupé," Yes I'm alive, I've just been busy, I sigh as I start the next step of my makeup.

"Oh, je sais, Pascale me dit que tu as été très occupée," Oh, I know, Pascale tells me that you have been very busy, she says in such a tone that I know exactly what she thinks I've been busy with. It's her way of telling me she knows without even having to bring it up.

"Tu n'as pas besoin d'être énigmatique," You don't have to be cryptic, I mutter. This will just be a lot more painful the more she drags this out, she might as well cut to the chase and ask me whatever she wants to, or just say whatever she wants to say.

"Comment est la danse?" How's the dancing? she asks, still avoiding the subject I know she's calling me to bring up.

"Tu ne m'as pas appelé pour me poser des questions sur la danse," You didn't call me to ask me about dance, I sigh.

"Bien sûr que je l'ai fait!" Of course I did! She argues and I just sigh loudly as I brush through my brows. I hear her sighing back on the other end of the phone and I bet she feels awkward asking about it and that's the reason she won't ask me straight up. "Vous êtes en France maintenant, n'est-ce pas?" You are in France now, aren't you?

"Je suis," I am, I confirm.

"Charles a-t-il réussi à sortir avec vous?" Did Charles manage to spend some time with you? she asks, luckily choosing to completely ignore the awkward feeling of when and how and just accepting the fact that I know that she knows already.