by Dean, Olivia
And then one day he announced that he was going to marry her, that it was the only way to keep her close to him, that her parents were crazy, that they still wanted to put her in the hospital. We let him do what he wanted to do, what could we say? And life went on. We barely saw the Delmonte’s, they avoided hanging around us. Right until Alice met François. François du Tetre, yes. When he was around, she’d immediately transform, become happier, pretending to be more interested in everything. Charles didn’t stop her, he thought it did her good, that she was learning to ‘be social’. However, and we only found this out later, François had introduced her to the pleasures of drugs and she quickly became an addict. In the beginning, it was just a little joint here and there, nothing all that bad. But they encouraged each other in chasing after new sensations and one day François decided it was time for them to go further faster. They started snorting coke and then, one evening, they decided to get into heroin. François was a novice then. He didn’t know anything about doses. She ended up having an awful overdose in a bar bathroom, not far from my gallery. Luckily the ambulance got there in time and they were able to save her. ‘Luckily’, today I don’t know if that’s really the right word. Because she never ‘came down’, as they say. She’s been a complete zombie ever since she regained consciousness. It’s been almost four years know. Charles had to put her in the institution, he couldn’t take care of her all the time. Sometimes she talks in her sleep, or she moves, and then the staff notify Charles, who rushes right over there…but the doctors are convinced, she’s never really going to fully recover, though it’s not like she ever was all there in the first place…the relationship he has with her is rather unhealthy. He’s legally responsible for her and feels guilty, but he doesn’t love her anymore. Really, it’s complicated…”
“You don’t seem to like her very much…”
“No, you’re right, I’ve never had a high opinion of her. Of course, I felt bad, I was horrified about what happened to her but I can’t get over how much she’s ruined my friend’s life. Sometimes I think she did it on purpose…”
This confession leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. So that’s it, the famous ‘secret wound’ my lover’s been hiding! It would probably have been better if he was just ‘boring’…instead, I have a rival, some catatonic poet who will never recover from her silence…what can I do about it? I can’t help from feeling jealous. This passion that Elisabeth just described, will he ever feel that for me? What can our relationship possibly amount to, compared to such a tragic love story?
“A real story, not a crummy excuse,” Manon says, always ready to comfort me.
“You think so? I don’t think I’ve got much over a girl who writes poetry…”
“A vegetable that used to be a girl, you mean? Come on, Emma, think clearly! This woman was just a teenager’s fantasy, you’re much more than that!”
“A fantasy?”
“Yes, basically…something that never would have gone much further, but was frozen in time thanks to that dashing addict…uh…”
“François.”
“Yes. If everything had gone normally, your Charles would have realized his mistake after a few months and that would have been the end of this whole story. It’s as simple as that. You and Charles share things, you have sex, you laugh, it’s how a couple works…”
“I think you’re right.”
“So there you go.”
“And now what? What should I do?”
“I don’t know. If you want things to continue, you’ll have to break the spell. Either you wait for him to do it himself, but that might take centuries, or you bring it up…but that might cause some trouble.”
“I don’t know if I want any more trouble…”
Like I’ve done each time since this whole thing began, I decide to do nothing to see where things will go. Until now, it’s been mixed results, but I think that this solution is the least dangerous option. And it also lets me get back to work, I only have a week to hand something in to Mrs. Granchamps and I’m having a hard time concentrating. As long as he doesn’t come to me, I can stay at my desk and work. I’ve got enough dried fruit and nuts to hold down the fort and all the books I need.
25. Dinner
“Emma! Emma! Are you still alive? Say something!”
I’ve fallen asleep again at my computer. What time is it? I should open the door.
“Look at the time! Are you sick? It’s been five days since you left your house, I’ve been worried.”
“Everything’s fine, don’t worry, I just have a lot of work to do.”
“Are you eating, at least?”
I open the cupboard to show him my collection of dried food.
“No thesis requires the kind of treatment you’re subjecting yourself to! It’s scandalous. Get dressed, I’ll take you to dinner.”
“No, really, I need to work, I don’t have time to go out.”
“In that case, I’ll make you dinner. Keep working and stop by my place in two hours. I can’t leave you like this!”
“Really?”
“Yes, I insist. And anyway, I miss you and your scruffiness.”
“In that case…”
“See you soon.”
When I come over to his house two hours later, I once again find the Charles that I left in Italy. Happy, open and at the stove.
“Sit down, I’ll take care of everything. Here, have a glass of wine.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you finish yet? It’s just an outline you have to hand in, right?” This time, he’s not making fun of me, I can tell. He really has been paying attention to my progress and my work and wants to know where I’m at.
“Yes. Actually a draft. Something that shows where I’m going.”
“I see. It’s the hardest part, I remember. After this, it’s all going to seem really easy, you’ll see.”
“I hope.”
“I think you’ll do just fine. You’re intelligent, gifted and a hard worker. You’ll nail it. As long as Granchamps doesn’t have something against you, of course.”
“Do you know my professor?”
“No, not beyond what you told me about her…do you like cockles?”
“What are those?”
“A delicious type of shellfish. I made some with a little crayfish sauce. You’re going to like it. And hey, it’s ready! Careful, it’s hot.”
We sit down at the table without further ceremony. He pours me some more wine and watches me eat. I feel anxious.
“I really want you. Come on, we can finish eating later.”
He said it just like that, without any prelude, and holds his hand out towards me as he stands up. My hand is boiling. I am flummoxed by the speed and suddenness of the desire that this simple invitation has aroused in me. In that instant, all I want is for him to undress me quickly. But I feel that it’s now or never. If I succumb to this desire, we are going to start another cycle of misunderstandings. Torrid sex, misguided thinking and phone calls to the clinic, deception, more misunderstandings, sadness…I need to do something. My heart is beating too quickly. He leans towards me and nibbles my ear while cupping my butt. Now or never, Emma…
“No!” I’m the one who said it and I’m almost surprised. Breath slowly, stand up straight, here you go.
“No!”
“What?”
“I don’t want to sleep with you now.”
“I was under the impression that you wanted it also.”
“That’s not the issue. We were in the middle of eating. We could be having a conversation, or something.”
“You can be so repressed sometimes!”
“What?”
“You need to learn to relax a little, let yourself go, I don’t know…”
“You’re telling me this? Can you tell me where you were last Monday?”
“That has nothing to do with you
. Anyway, if you don’t really want to spend time with me, I won’t keep you from leaving!”
“It’s really simple, Charles! You can’t keep on shutting yourself off from everyone! You can’t sleep with me whenever you want and then kick me out the next moment.”
So what if I’m ruining everything, I want to get it all out. Now we’re playing by my rules.
“No? So why not?”
“Because we are more than just lovers now. Even if you continue to talk to me so formally and politely and hide your private life from me, there’s something between us, something strong, I can feel it.”
“You’re misinterpreting things, sweetheart. There’s nothing between us. It’s true, I like sleeping with you but it ends there. I hope I haven’t accidentally led you to believe it was something more.”
That hurts, but I know that he’s lying. I’m stronger than that.
“Then why Portofino? Why bring me to such a special place? Do you bring every woman you sleep with to meet your family?”
“I shouldn’t have. Obviously it was a mistake, since you started imagining things. Emma, there was never anything serious between us.”
“Why? Because of your wife?”
“Huh? How…”
“People talk, go figure, and it’s the type of secret that you can’t keep to yourself for your entire life…”
“Elisabeth…”
“It doesn’t matter who told me. Are you going to stop yourself from living your life because of her? Do you think you can cut yourself out of this world the way she did?”
“Don’t you dare talk about her that way! What makes you think you can say that?”
“Because I want to be with you, I love you. I want you to stop living in the past. You don’t have to feel guilty.”
“I don’t want to be with you. It’s not guilt that holds me back, it’s love. I never stopped loving Alice. You aren’t and never will be anything to me.”
That was too much. The walls came tumbling down. I have to leave. I tried everything. I offered him my heart on a platter. It’s over. I throw in the towel.
“Very well, at least it’s clear now. I’m leaving. I’ll pack my bags, you’ll never hear from me again.”
And to make the perfect exit from this dramatic scene, I slam the door before dissolving into tears on my little bed.
26. The beginning
How long can you cry without stopping? How long have I been lying on this bed sobbing? But for some reason I don’t want to stop. Not right away, at least. It seems to me that the more I cry, the more alive I feel, still attached to him. Still in love. I’ll stop when I’ve finally gotten over him. I’ll get my things together, give him back the keys and leave. But I’m not ready. In my mind, I see our kisses and our lovemaking and the memories of our pleasure mix with my tears. I don’t want to forget, not just yet. I want to scream. I bury my face in the pillow.
And then, someone knocks gently on my door.
“Emma, Emma, it’s me. Open. Open the door. Please.”
No. I’ve suffered enough for today. I won’t open it. But he has the key and, after a few minutes, he quietly enters. I sense he’s standing over my bed, watching me sob. He doesn’t know what to do. He murmurs my name, softly. He sits down and runs his hand over my hair, trying to soothe me. I don’t care, I don’t want to be soothed. Then he stretches out behind me. The bed is so small, he holds me in his arms and buries his head in my hair. He keeps on murmuring my first name. I feel his entire body against mine and, despite my state, I can’t stop my body from being swept up in a violent desire. I know that he wants me too. Don’t move, don’t show him.
His hands are hot on my stomach and it feels like the warmth is radiating throughout my entire body. My breasts swell. My lower abdomen burns. I can’t let him know I feel this way. No longer murmuring, he’s kissing my neck now. It’s incredibly intense. I bury my head in the pillow so I can resist the temptation of giving him my lips. His hands grip on to me even more tightly and I feel the force of his desire between my thighs. I don’t move. This can’t start all over again, I don’t want any more of this. One of his hands slides up my t-shirt and gently moves towards my heaving chest. I need to react, I can already feel my resolve weakening.
“No!” I sit up suddenly, showing him my face drenched with tears.
“It’s over, Charles. You made your feelings very clear. I don’t want anymore of this.”
He takes my face in both hands and kisses my tears.
“Sorry, Emma. I didn’t want to. You’re the one who’s right. I need you.”
“I don’t want you to need me. I want you to love me. Like you loved her…”
“I’ll never love you like I loved her. I don’t even know if I ever loved her…let’s not talk about this, don’t leave, stay with me.”
We’re on our knees now, both of us, on the bed. He slowly undresses me. First my t-shirt, then my bra. Now it’s my turn to lift his shirt over his head. My face still in his hands, his mouth presses against mine and his tongue mixes with mine in a breathless dance. Our hands linger, then squeeze, then leave to explore each other’s bodies. My fingers want to caress every inch of his body. His back, his torso, his stomach. His mouth leaves mine to concentrate on my breasts, which he teases and bites. I can’t hold in my cries. My hand descends down towards his muscular legs. We quickly take off our pants and underwear and get back into our initial position. On our knees, as if praying. My mouth explores his entire torso, it goes down blatantly to explore every part of his body. He starts murmuring my name again. One of his hands dives into my hair, which he pulls back in a movement that is both brutal and gentle, and the other hand lingers between my thighs, which I open instantly. I don’t want to play anymore, I don’t want to hide. I let my hips dance along with his fingers to the quickening rhythm of my desire. I moan his name and sink my nails into his back. Suddenly, he moves his hands and presses them against my butt, squeezing. He brings me to sit on him. We look into one another’s eyes. His eyes shine with an extraordinary light. Our mouths mesh, like those of two teenagers full of desire. I take him in me and continue to look him in the eyes. Soon I can’t control myself, I feel my movements are becoming wilder, more animal, his eyes taste my pleasure and I start to cry out his name. His teeth press harder into my neck. I want him to bite me until he draws blood. He murmurs my name. And then something like ‘I love you’. I don’t know. I’m all his.
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