It’s that time of year again—when the kiddies go back to school, when all of Paris returns from holiday and re-enters their lives. It’s my rentrée, too, as I begin again in my life as a cop, and as part of society.
My first day back was monumental, emotional. When I entered the courtyard of HQ after so long away, my heart pounded in my ears—whomp, whomp, whomp. It kept on and got louder—whomp, whomp, whomp. A long, sharp whistle pulled me out of myself; a familiar voice called, “Welcome back, boss!” It was Haddad. I looked up and saw my team filling the windows of my department. It wasn’t just my thumping heart I’d heard in my head, it was their hands banging together in rhythm. They unfurled a huge homemade banner scrawled in red spray paint: Luc, We Missed You. I stood there, frozen, with my mouth hanging open as they applauded and chanted my name. My eyes got all blurry and my throat pinched and tightened. Damn, that was something, huh? Quite a way to make an entrance—or I should say, re-entrance.
In that first moment I swung open the ancient, wooden doors to my department, I felt a rush. Right after that, a twinge of dread. I wonder if this is what the kids feel on the first day of school. The place was familiar and strange at the same time. I didn’t have long to digest what I was feeling because my team crowded in on me and swept me right back into my life. I was whisked from one meeting to another—my boss, HR, my team bringing me up to speed on our case load—and of course, the best case: the serial killings. Then just like that, my first day back was done.
As I walked out of the building onto Quai des Orfèvres—something I've done thousands of times—it felt like I’d never been away. Haddad and I headed to our usual local joint on Place St. Michel for a celebratory drink and I felt a strong pride of place: I was back where I belonged, where I had a right to be.
Vive ma rentrée ! Welcome back to me.
