Love is Pink! is a novel.
It takes place in winter. More precisely said it takes place around Christmas.
So then is it a Christmas novel?
You could say that. But it is also a book in which two people fall in love.
So then is it a love story?
Yes, absolutely. A love story that takes place in a snow covered France just before Christmas.
Phew. This is not so easy.
Now what? Should I tell you the things about myself and my life that I have put into the novel? How the characters arose? And where I got the pink car from?
No. Definitely too personal.
Actually everything has been said already. You just have to read the book. Then you will learn Michelle’s story. She tells it, admittedly, rather well.
Oh man! Here I sit. Nothing is coming to mind. Absolutely. Nothing. Whatsoever …
Someone taps me on the shoulder. I find this strange, because in my house this late after midnight everyone besides me is fast asleep.
I look up, and he is standing in front of me: David – the hero from my novel. It is he, who Michelle falls in love with. David is tall and blond. He is wearing one of those Norwegian sweaters and a pair of jeans.
“What do you want?” I ask slightly annoyed.
David holds his tongue. Typical man.
“Do you have an idea of what I could write? About you and Michelle?”
He smiles sheepishly. Is he likeable! I must pull myself together…
“I met Michelle in France,” he begins.
“That much I know.”
“We took off together. In my old car; a pink ’73 Citroën DS 23 IE Pallas.”
“So, so…” I try to interrupt, but he pays no attention to that.
“Along the way we had many adventures. It was the middle of winter, right before Christmas. And it was snowing like crazy.”
“Nice. But my book is entitled Love is Pink! with an emphasis on Love. You two surely had some … erotic moments.”
David furrows his brow. “Of course. I heard her in the shower. We slept with one another … I mean we shared a bed.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “We sat in the hot tub. And after, we kissed.”
He frowns. “For a beginning that is enough, isn’t it?”
“At this stage, yes.” I sigh. Apparently, you have to squeeze every word out of him. “You are making this rather difficult for me. The two of you fell in love with one another …”
His eyes take on this faraway expression, and I know exactly, at this moment he is with Michelle.
“Earth to David,” I jest.
“Hm?” He returns to me.
“I have written exactly when Michelle fell in love with you. How she felt and how she managed to affirm her love. But how was it for you?”
David launches into a reply, just as I energetically raise my hand. “Wait. You fell in love with her because of her drop dead looks.”
David shakes his head.
“Okay. Because you could rely on her completely.”
He shakes his head again.
Slowly I am getting agitated.
“How about when you kissed. In the hot tub, wearing nearly nothing at all.”
This head shaking is beginning to annoy me! You can’t just do this to me at one in the morning. I snarl, “your turn.”
David shrugs. He glances at the floor, as if he is embarrassed. Then he looks up. “I was standing by the Citroën. Michelle came up to me – completely tired, hair disheveled, her makeup smeared.” He laughs. “She was wearing a parka on top of her overcoat. Her boots no longer had heels … I am sure she was shuffling her feet.”
“And?” I ask.
His face softens. “At that moment I knew she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”
“I should write that?” I ask in disbelief.
He smiles again. “Why not? It’s a good story. And the absolute truth.”
© Text: Roxann Hill, 2014
© Translation: Paul Wagle, 2014