Satine

GABRIELLE (I)

They never talked about Satine. They never even uttered her name. Though this rule was enforced in Gabrielle's household, the presence of her older sister could be found in every corner nonetheless. Her laugh and voice was painted on the walls, the sound of her footsteps down the stairs was rooted in the floorboards. Her dresses hung in the wardrobe across from Gabrielle's bed. She was a ghost. Brown hair and blue eyes haunting them all. Gabrielle's older sister ran away eight years ago and Gabrielle's life was built awkwardly and unevenly around this catastrophic event, but her family kept quiet about it. Over time this made Gabrielle furious. Furious at her parents, at her entire village, at everyone, acting like nothing had happened, like she hadn't lost normality and a sister. There wasn't a day that went by when Gabrielle was not somehow reminded of the missing piece in her family. She would hear her mother crying, her door cracked open, but if she dared to walk in and catch a tear slip down her cheek, Marie-lise Dumont would rise to the occasion to lecture her about privacy. If Gabrielle ever asked a question related to Satine, her father Ernest would remind her that curiosity killed the cat. She was not as naive as her parent's thought her to be, she was not stupid enough to think they weren't plagued by the thought of their eldest daughter. What she had become, where she was, whether she was dead or alive. The only person who sometimes dared to speak of her was Grand-mère Bernadette. It did help that she was slightly senile and did nothing but sit in her chair on the porsche all day, otherwise she probably would have swept it all under the rug like the rest of Gabrielle's family. The young girl's brother Paul didn't even remember Satine, he was only a baby when she disappeared, and yet, sometimes, in the dead of the night when neither siblings could sleep he would ask Gabrielle about her. The young girl always said the same thing, having very limited memories of her: She was loud, incredibly loud, incapable of sitting still but most of all she was funny. She never failed to make her laugh. Once she made her laugh so much that the milk she was drinking poured out the wrong way through her nostrils at dinner and despite the discomfort of it she kept laughing. "Satine!" Her mother had exclaimed in despair as she got up to wipe the mess, and Satine had smirked at the younger Gabrielle. She never told Paul about the many arguments she had overheard Satine having with their parents only months before that awful morning in November. She had heard them slowly push her sister to the edge day by day until it culminated in her leaving them all for good. She did not think Paul needed to hear that, although she resented her parents, she didn't think her younger brother needed to carry that same conflicting burden. The hatred, frustration strangely encapsulated by a craving for their parent's love and attention. The young girl had grappled with it since the age of five and it never seemed to get any easier. She missed her sister and was almost sure that if her parents had not caged her, she would not have had to break out of their claws and consequently Gabrielle could have grown up in the complete household she was meant to be a part of. Though on occasion, she resented her sister more than her parents, because of the heavy secret she had bestowed upon her that cold September night eight years ago. A secret she was yet to tell anyone. That weighed her down and conflicted her at all times. The night that Satine left, she had woken her five year old sister up in the dead of night. Gabrielle had seen her face in the dim light of a candle. Her cheeks had been wet but stretched out in a smile at the sight of the younger Gabrielle, with her light hair and freckles, the young girl was used to people smiling at her, so she didn't think much of it.
"Hi, ma puce." Satine put her finger over her sister's mouth to prevent her from making too much noise. She was confused of course, but she could not have guessed this was the last time she would see her dear Satine until she spoke again. "Shh, Quiet," her older sister whispered. "Look, Gabrielle, I have to go. I'm going tonight." The little girl did not understand, and only stared at her familiar face in confusion; she even thought she was dreaming at one point. Looking back, Gabrielle had tried to understand and analyse her sister's words. What did she mean by she had to leave? Had her parents given her an ultimatum? Was she truly so desperately unhappy? These questions could keep her awake. She had to wonder if she had just made a stupid mistake, if Satine ever thought of her. If she regretted it bitterly. At times she hoped that Gabrielle's innocent five year old eyes haunted Satine as much as she haunted them, out of pure spite and bitterness. Satine had then pulled a small beaded bracelet off of her wrist and put it into Gabrielle's small delicate hand. "This has nothing to do with you, you're the best little sister, you understand? I want you to remember that." Gabrielle had unwillingly given a brief nod, fiddling with the bracelet between her fingers. Satine leant over her and kissed her forehead. "If you ever need to find me, I'm going to go to Paris."