On my second evening, I learn about the President. The French President, Sarkozy. His arrival is pending. There is much talk of whether or not he’ll be coming with his wife, Carla. There is much talk of whether or not their marriage is a hoax. “She’s a common prostitute,” a woman I don’t know says.
My husband’s father was married to Mirabelle for seven weeks before they divorced, although they’d been dating for seven years before that. Marriage, like having children, is something that older people have started to roll their eyes at. Do you have children, they ask? I answer in the negative. They roll their eyes. Say, “Don’t.”
