On Monday morning at seven thirty, four people walk into Madame Benali's boulangerie at the same time.
Madame Benali looks up. She looks at Wei, then at Amara, then at Yuki, then at Mateo. Her eyes get wider. Her smile gets bigger.
— Mais… mais vous vous connaissez, vous quatre ?
— On s'est rencontrés à l'école, Madame.
— Vous habitez tous chez moi !
She comes out from behind the counter, which she does not usually do, and she looks at them with her hands on her hips.
— Vous habitez tous au numéro douze. Au-dessus de ma boulangerie. Et vous ne le saviez pas ?
— On vient de le découvrir, Madame. Vendredi soir.
Madame Benali shakes her head. She is laughing now.
— Mais alors vous êtes une famille. Une famille au-dessus de ma boulangerie. Bienvenue à la maison, vous quatre.
She gives them four croissants. She refuses to take payment. She says it is for the première fois — the first time they have come in together. Mateo tries to argue. Amara, who knows when an older woman has decided something, stops him with a look.
They eat the croissants standing on the pavement, in the May sun, and Madame Benali, watching them through the window of her shop, asks the question that will define the rest of the week.
— Alors, qu'est-ce que vous faites ce week-end, vous quatre ?
Nobody has an answer.
They have decided to plan it together. The Saturday outing. The first proper one. They are sitting at the café across from the boulangerie — café Le Diamant, which has six tables and a waiter who has been there for forty years and treats every customer the same, which is to say with very mild contempt.
Amara opens the conversation.
— Moi, je veux aller au marché. Le marché d'Aligre, samedi matin.
— Le marché ? Mais c'est pour acheter ! Le samedi, c'est pour le cinéma !
This is Mateo. Mateo has discovered that there is a Mati Diop retrospective at the Cinémathèque this weekend. Mateo has been talking about it for forty-eight hours.
— Mateo, on n'est pas obligés de faire ce que tu veux.
— Je sais ! Je propose, c'est tout.
Wei, who has been quiet, says her own preference in a small voice.
— Le canal Saint-Martin. C'est joli en mai.
Yuki, who has been writing in her notebook for the entire conversation, looks up.
— Bon. Je note. Marché : Amara. Cinéma : Mateo. Canal : Wei. Et moi, je veux savoir : combien de temps, à quelle heure, et qu'est-ce qu'on fait s'il pleut ?
— Yuki, on est lundi. On parle de samedi. Il fait soleil.
— En mai, il peut pleuvoir n'importe quand.
The four of them argue gently for an hour. Amara says she does not have time for the cinema. Mateo says the cinema is not optional. Wei agrees with whoever spoke last. Yuki insists, with increasing precision, on a backup plan.
By four o'clock, they have not reached an agreement. Mateo proposes — with the manner of a man making a generous offer — to send everyone an email tonight with a final programme. The others agree, partly because they want to go home.
Amara, walking back across the rue des Cinq-Diamants with Wei, says quietly:
— Tu sais que Mateo va se tromper, non ?
— Probablement.
They both laugh. They do not yet know how right they are.