Ah, the familiar voice of home. I hadn’t taken the time to reach out to her recently, so I’m happy she takes the initiative to call. “Bonjour, Maman.” “How are you doing? I hope that they don’t have you working as hard these days.” “No, of course not.” Liar. “I hope you’re taking good care of yourself. Have you been eating properly?” I can’t bring myself to admit to her that I’ve been living on Gatorade, dosas, and bad coffee. “Mais oui. How about you? How are things back home?” Not that it’s apparent, but I really do hate lying to my mother. “Things are great. Christophe and I have been gardening and sailing every day. It’s been really wonderful.” Sailing every day? The only “fresh” air I’ll inhale for the next while is the lemon-scented spritzer in the ladies room. “Actually, I’m calling because we thought we’d surprise you and come to New York for a short visit. Christophe wants to visit his son—you remember, he’s attending summer classes at NYU.”
