Muse [18+] • REVISING

32 | Retrograde

V E R A

━━━━━━━━━━

I'm awoken by the noise of someone trying to buzz into the front gate. To my surprise, it's Damien's driver, Julien. I haven't seen or spoken to him since he came to pick Damien up the morning he left for Avignon. We are only acquaintances but it is nice to see another familiar face. I speak to him briefly over the intercom and allow him to drive up to the house.

Making my way down the stairs, I pull a sweater from the couch and wrap myself up in the knitted material before walking over to the front door, where I spot Julien walking up the concrete steps with a seemingly large white box. I help by pulling open the door and letting him into the house, where he sets the mysterious package onto the round table placed in the middle of the foyer.

"What's this? I didn't order anything," I ask with raised eyebrows, meeting his side and running my hand over the textured cardboard of the box.

"Mr. Dupont sent me, ma'am." Of course, he did.

I give Julien a weakened smile and we exchange a few sentences of small talk before I thank him for driving ways here. Waving goodbye from the window as he slips into his car again, I pretend not to rush to the unknown contents that hide inside the white-encased box. There are cursive letters in black, engraved into the cardboard material, reading Matériau Féminin. Gnawing on the skin of my lip, all I do is shake my head at a parallel memory that comes into mind when we spent time together in this very store, replacing the various lingerie of mine that he has ripped.

It is not a surprise that Damien would make such a gesture, however, I wish that he was the one walking through that door and delivering the box. I took a minute and even pictured how it'd go down. I'd argue with him about purchasing something from Matériau Féminin as every piece of fabric in that store costs fortunes and then he'd somehow talk me down from yelling at him any further, maybe by hushing me with his lips. The rest would go how it usually did every night.

Part hot and even more bothered, I push past the futile thoughts and shimmy the top covering off of the box, revealing a small card on top of tissue paper. The card has the store's name again in the same cursive lettering. I turn it over and there he is, written in pen.

You'll do wonderful tonight. D.D.

The little message settles in the realization that he won't be coming to the exhibit opening. I debated reaching out a week ago and asking him to come back for the lone night but I wasn't going to be the kind of person that takes a man away from his mother in a time of need. I set the card to the side and pull the tissue paper away, to which there is a dark red fabric and I already know what this is.

Carefully picking it up and holding it out in front of me, it is none other than a floor-length satin gown that I had eyed so many times as we drove past the store on our way to and from the museum. Exhaling in awe, I gently place the dress onto the table and look back at the box where there are matching pearl-adorned heels waiting for me. As the gift sinks in, all I wish is to be able to run up to him and latch onto him forever. Even estranged, he still takes care of me.

I placed both the dress and the heels back into the box and brought them with me upstairs, setting it aside for me to change into later as I knew gifts from Damien were not up for debate or to be returned. Walking into the bathroom, I stripped from my sweater and pajamas and put together a well-needed bath. I decided to take the entire morning to sit alone with myself and make up for the lack of self-care. There were several hours until tonight's event and a little time to spare before Cordelia came over with her little team of makeup artists and hairstylists. I tried to decline but she insisted as she always does.