Authors: K. Larsen
Brant,
Today I smiled at every single person I passed. I’m happy. I don’t even think my feet touch the ground when I walk. It’s just a dream and if I started to sing and dance, I wouldn’t be surprised if all the strangers I’ve smiled at join in as some sort of flash mob or something. I really like Mark. It’s not exactly rational since I barely know him. I’m sure you don’t want to hear this boy talk but I can’t help it. Mom has become one of those not-good-enough moms. She’s an imperfect, crap mother. And even that doesn’t bother me today. Intense ‘like’ has burrowed a deep hole into my heart.
I want to coddle it, let it snuggle in. Do you think it’s weird that lately I think about other people’s lives and all the love they don’t have, the friends they don’t really connect with, the boring routines that make up their sad existences, the weight of the pressures that crush their spirits? That in those moments I realize how much I have and how precious it is? I’m going to stay happy. I’m going to. For you. For me. For everyone else.
-Belle
Annabelle and Jezebel were stretched out side by side on the bed together listening to old mix tapes Jezebel had requested her husband bring in. Annabelle lay there, eyes closed, music playing loudly, thinking about her Facebook messages with Mark throughout the last week.
Duran Duran,
the
Cars,
Phil Collins
and
Billy Joel
were the strange soundtrack to her thoughts as they laid still and just listened. Annabelle knew many of the songs but there were also many that she wasn’t familiar with.
A smile crept over her face as they lay shoulder to shoulder. Jezebel’s warm hand found hers, clutched it, and squeezed. Everything in that moment felt just right. She was exactly where she was supposed to be, with who she was supposed to be with. It was a liberating feeling.
Her week had been bland. Madison missed three days of school because she was sick, her classes didn’t hold her interest and her parents, well . . . they were the same. Everything was horrifically quiet at the house as always. She’d cranked up her music. She’d smiled non-stop, she’d asked questions to prompt conversations with her parents who responded in the moment briefly before they slipped into their normal routines of discontent. Messaging Mark was the only real highlight of her days.
“Do you like
10,000 Maniacs?
” Jezebel said, cutting into her thoughts.
“Sure,” she shrugged.
Jezebel hopped off the bed and switched sides of the tape that was playing. When the familiar opening of a classic began, she smiled widely and spun around in a circle. Her hair lifted from her neck and blew in the breeze she created. Her lips were upturned and her eyes closed. Annabelle felt jealous. Jealous that she could just let go, feel a moment and enjoy it. She wanted that so badly. Annabelle yanked her elastic from her hair and resolved that she could have that and she would.
Right now.
“Dance party!” Annabelle cheered.
She joined Jezebel, spinning and shaking and laughing as the song played. They swung their hair, shook their hips and danced. Jezebel took her hands and spun her out, then back in, she swayed them together and dipped Annabelle dramatically. She couldn’t catch her breath she was laughing so hard. It had been ages since she’d done anything so silly. When the song wound down Jezebel dimmed the volume and snuggled into her chair. Annabelle followed her lead.
Breathless she tucked her legs under her and waited for Jezebel to take the lead. Moments passed in silence and Annabelle wondered if something was wrong. Jezebel stared at the flowers on her windowsill solemnly.
“Jez?”
“Yes?” Jezebel croaked and swiveled her head to meet her gaze.
“Where were you?”
Jezebel grinned but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “In the past.”
“Tell me about it?” Annabelle hedged.
“Not a chance kiddo. My past is a whole other story.” Jezebel winked and pulled her hair over one shoulder. “For now, we should stick to Celeste. Did you know that the song
Jezebel
is written from the perspective of a woman who has realized that she is no longer in love with her husband and wants to dissolve their marriage?”
Annabelle stared at Jezebel a second and blinked before sucking in a deep breath. “Nope.”
Jezebel sighed and nodded. “It was.”
“Okay,” Annabelle said unsure where Jezebel was going with the conversation.
“Oh never mind.” Jezebel waved her hand through the air. “Shall we get to it then?”
“You mean Celeste’s story?” she asked. Jezebel nodded. “Yeah. Let’s.”
“Paris, nineteen ninety-two,” Jezebel began, and Annabelle settled into her seat a little more.
Celeste
Paris 1992
Hi Cece,
How is my favorite lady? Things are going well here. The weather is just beautiful and there’s so much to do! We went apple picking, raspberry picking, picked pumpkins at the pumpkin farm, went on hayrides, you name it we did it. Love all the color and the kids have had a blast with all the leaf piles. I really miss you but am keeping busy taking care of the house and the family.
Kids are all doing very well in daycare and are actually ahead of where they should be which is a relief! Molly just started talking. Matthew is doing soccer—it’s adorable, they all swarm the ball. We are all excited awaiting the first snow which may happen on Saturday. I can’t wait to do some skiing. I hope you are doing great and enjoying your beautiful weather in Paris. Everything, including snow, is more magical there.
Hope all is well with Gabriel and work! Please tell Matteo I send my love. Ok, enough of my rambling, I know you are busy. Take care and hope to hear from you soon.
Your Favorite Lady, Mara
Celeste smiled as she set the letter down on the counter. The last two years had brought many changes. Mara and Charles had moved to the States for Charles’ work. She missed her best friend dearly but it was what was best for their family. Matthew, their first born, was three now and Molly was pushing ten months. As their godmother, Celeste took her role seriously, spoiling them with gifts at every occasion she deemed appropriate.
Gabriel and she had pushed through the roughest patches in their marriage and were, for the most part, back on track. For Gabriel, desire and logic had been two very separate things when coming to terms with not being able to have a child of his own. Of course, there were still bouts of disappointment and longing when it came to friends and co-workers having babies but they knew now how to get through it—together.
Gabriel descended the stairs with heavy footsteps. He fiddled with his tie as he entered the kitchen. Ambling up to him she swatted his hand away from his tie. She handed him a mug of coffee and fixed his tie for him while he took that first glorious sip.
“What would I do without you?” he asked. His eyes crinkled as he smiled appreciatively at her.
“Indeed,” she answered with a smile. Gabriel leaned down and kissed her temple. She rested her head on his chest and sighed.
“Will you be home tonight for dinner?”
“Chances are slim, mon amour, we’re very close to working out the side effects finally.”
“Congratulations love, it must feel good to be close to the finish line,” she offered, tamping down her disappointment.
He nodded. “Six years in the making.”
“Almost there now, keep your chin up,” she encouraged.
Gabriel cupped her chin and looked tenderly into her eyes. She wondered if when he finally worked out all the kinks of the drug he was working on, he’d have normal hours or if a new project would magically appear to soak up his time. She brushed the thought away as he kissed her and nodded. He set the mug on the counter and headed to the lab. She gripped her mug, still warm from the steaming liquid inside. She picked up his mug and stared inside. He’d drained it to the dregs.
~
***
~
Dr. B sat in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of steaming tea. His warm eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled at her.
“Afternoon dear,” he greeted.
“Hi.”
“Tea?”
“That would be nice, thanks.” She watched him shuffle around the kitchen to fix her some tea and she laughed. He grumbled the entire time about nothing and everything. He always appeared grumpy—unless you knew him.
“Something amusing?” he asked.
“You,” she said and batted her eyelashes at him in mock innocence.
“I’ve been called many things dear, but never
amusing,
” he grumbled good-naturedly. He walked past a bare spot on the wall where a picture had hung.
She couldn’t help her curiosity and asked, “Dr. B?” as he set her teacup in front of her. “Why is it that there are pictures missing on the walls?” She noticed he startled slightly before he studied Celeste’s face.
“Some things are better left as memories and some memories are too painful to view. I don’t need the pictures. My memories are all up here,” he said and tapped his head.
“I’m sorry,” she offered. She didn’t want to pry but longed to know Dr. B’s story.
“Don’t be. You had no way of knowing. I lost a great deal in my lifetime Celeste, but I’ve also gained a great deal. You and Matteo for instance.” He gave her a warm, easy smile.
Celeste blushed at his affection. She often wondered about Dr. B’s life. He was a private man, who had amassed quite a bit of wealth in his years, but had no family to speak of. She knew he’d been married at one point but didn’t know anything else. Had his wife passed on? Left him? She burned to know the answers but knew it wasn’t her place to pry. Over the years he had shared tidbits here and there as he saw fit and that would have to be enough for her.
“We’ve gained you, not the other way around,” she said. Max curled up at her feet. She wiggled her foot gently under him.
“Aww, child, you never know who is really benefitting now do you?” He quirked a bushy eyebrow at her and smirked.
“You’re much too kind for your own good,” she teased.
“Maybe so, but I’m old and a good judge of character.” Celeste laughed; that certainly couldn’t be denied. “How’s everything at home?” he asked.
“We’re good.” Dr. B and Matteo had been a great source of comfort to Celeste in the last two years. She was able to talk with them about wanting children and Gabriel’s moods and get not only good advice for her well-being, but insight into how the male mind worked. “Gabriel spends most of his time at the lab working on God knows what drug. Six years and he’s finally making progress, from what he says.”
“Interesting. You must be proud of his work,” Dr. B commented.
“I support him of course, but honestly I know very little about what he works on. It’s all very hush-hush. New compounds, new side effects, old drugs tweaked to perform differently or to enhance their ability. I sort of zone out when he tries to explain what he can to me,” she said and laughed.
“My wife did the same. She was smart as a whip but really had no understanding when I started jabbering on about work. The look on her face . . .” he started, his voice fading as he shook his head at the memory, a quiet smirk on his face.
Celeste conjured up the last time Gabriel had droned on about the intricate chemical compounds that made up his work. She let her face relax. “Like this?” she said. Dr. B laughed heartily at her expression.
“Yes dear, you look just like her.” He reached across the table and patted her hand.
Celeste warmed at Dr. B’s gaze. Sometimes she noticed him watching her with a fondness in his eyes. She wasn’t sure why but she was happy that she gave him something to smile about. She relished their time together and was happy that he seemed to share the sentiment. She loved her parents dearly but their relationship was more formal. What she had at work with Dr. B and Matteo was what she imagined most families to have. And she loved it.
“Cece, fiore mio,” Matteo greeted her, and kissing Celeste’s cheek. He looked sharp in a navy-blue suit, white shirt, and solid blue tie. He definitely wasn’t working the stables today.
“Teo! I wasn’t expecting you today,” Dr. B said. He gave Matteo a wolfish grin.
“Celeste is here . . . of course I’d be here,” Matteo answered.
Celeste threw a crumpled napkin at him. “As if,” she covered a laugh with a cough.
“Celeste is here
every
day,” Dr. B pointed out.
“I really enjoy your tea?” Matteo tried again.
“You are hopeless.” Matteo glanced up at the ceiling as if it would give him a hint to his next comeback.
“Dare I admit that I enjoy your company old man?” he said, narrowing his eyes playfully at Dr. B.
“Oh, hogwash,” Dr. B deadpanned as his eyes flashed with amusement.
Matteo sat then, joining them at the table where the three of them laughed and chatted about nothing in particular for hours.
~
***
~
The rain cast a dreary feel over everything as it sped by her windows. She only needed to drop off something for Dr. B at the embassy before heading home for the day. The weather made her sleepy and quiet. She found a parking spot with ease, close enough that she wouldn’t get soaked jogging from her car to the entrance, and snatched the envelope from the passenger seat after putting the car in park.
She made her way through the now familiar halls until she reached Dan’s office. She didn’t bother knocking anymore as Dr. B generally called to let Dan know she was on her way. She pushed through the door, bypassed the empty reception desk and walked into his office.
Dan sat reclined in his chair, feet propped up on his desk, a book in his hands. “Working hard I see,” Celeste said with snark. Dan set the book down and smiled at her. Over the years they had developed an easy rapport with each other.
“Nice to see you too Celeste.” Dan gave her a smug smile. He dropped his feet to the floor and stood to greet her. She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was just a little after five in the evening. Celeste wrapped her hand around his and shook his offered palm.
“I didn’t expect the good doctor to turn this around so fast,” he said, pointing to the envelope in her left hand.
“Are you disappointed to see me?” She laughed.
“Never, Celeste,” he laughed heartily.
“How’re the wife and kids doing?” she asked sincerely. She propped her hip against the wall and watched Dan run his fingers through his hair.
“Grace hates it here. She’s about ready to graduate and says she’s moving back to the States.” Dan chuckled and shook his head.
“You’d think after the last four years she’d have grown fond of Paris in some way.” suggested Celeste.
“Not a chance. That girl was pissed when I was transferred here and she’s pissed we’ve stayed so long. Sheila is beside herself,” he huffed and rolled his eyes.
Celeste gave him a heartfelt grin. “I imagine a mother would want to keep her baby near no matter how old.”
“Absolutely. They’re both stubborn and buttheads non-stop. I’m about to lose my damn mind trying to keep the peace,” Dan chuckled.
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating. Sheila and Grace are both lovely.” She gave him a rueful smirk.
He raised an eyebrow at her that said ‘if you only knew’ and added, “Thank God I have Jim. Without that kid, I’d be outnumbered and out-witted.”
Celeste smiled and thought of what Dan’s household must be like. A teenage daughter, a middle school-aged son and a feisty wife who lit up any room she entered. It made her heart warm to think that Dan was in good hands, that he had something meaningful to go home to at night. He was a good man.
“You’re tough, you’ll make it,” she joked. Celeste handed the manila envelope to him and said, “It’s after five Dan, go home to your family.” Dan nodded and took the envelope from her.
“It’s after five Celeste, go home to your husband,” he threw back at her with a wide grin. Celeste only chuckled before turning and heading back out to her car.
The rain soaked her thoroughly as she rummaged through her pocket trying to pull her keys out. She shivered as she finally plunked into her seat and yanked the door shut. When she pulled into her drive she turned the car off and stared at the dark house. Sitting in the shadow of her car she imagined what Gabriel would be doing if he were home. He would most likely be reading, legs crossed, note pad on his leg, documents resting on the arm of that tattered but comfortable armchair they used to play-fight over. She smiled briefly at the thought and then frowned. He wasn’t home and he likely wouldn’t be before she retired for the night. With a heavy sigh, she opened her door and readied herself for the rain-laden sprint to the front door, feeling his absence more vividly than his presence.