We have worked on my story all day to polish every little detail that came to mind so that we can hand it to Edith tonight. After leaving his office at Wright Books, we headed to his flat to get ready for dinner at his mum's. I'm feeling so horribly nervous. I feel myself sweating like a pig, and I'm not even wrapped in cellophane yet. I'm lying on Mace's bed as he reads his emails on his laptop by my side.
"My Professor wrote to me." He murmurs, talking to himself as a surprise, but I'm happy to be aware.
"Is it about your thesis?" I ask softly but with very eager curiosity.
"I think it is. He wants to meet Wednesday at his office." He shortly responds, leaving me wanting more answers yet again.
"Does he say anything else? Do you think it's good or bad that he wants to meet you?" I let out maybe too quickly because he turned his face to look at me with a laugh leaving his lips.
"Damn, you're curious! Jesus!"
"You knew that when you decided to be with me."
"Indeed. Don't remind me." He lets out as he rolls his eyes.
Not knowing him, I would have taken this comment badly, but I know he meant it as a joke. I am just delighted that I got to know him that much to understand the difference in the slightest changes of his tone. I was at his throat at any comment he made when I first met him. Now, it isn't the case. I understand his humour. I know his personality. I know him.
Thinking that I finally know him, I realise that I simply only know his personality. I know him, but not what made him. I don't know much of his past. I only learned the name of his father yesterday from my flatmate. Rumours around the office have told me more about his family than he ever did.
"Before I jump into the lion's den, what can you tell me about your mum?" I ask him and lookup. I wait to have his eyes set on me before I continue and get a bit theatrical. "Must I bow when I see her? Would you recommend avoiding direct eye contact? Must I address her as Madame? What kind of flowers should I get her? Or maybe I should bake her dessert? Everybody loves dessert..."
I meant for my little act to be a joke, but the severe grin Marcel has worried me. He really is considering it all!? I start being a little nervous and swallow hard just before he looks back down at me and closes his laptop on his lap.
"Definitely do not bow, but it might be better if you avoid too long eye contact. As for how you address her, she will tell you herself when you meet. She loves orchids. I would recommend that. She can't cook. At least, that's what I can remember. Dad always used to be the chef in the house. So if you can make her something, I think it would make a big impression on her."
"Are you joking?"
"Yes, but only because you did. I was honest about baking something. We should get on it right now. She would be pleased." He looks down at me grins widely.
"What does she like?"
"Anything with chocolate."
"Then, we'll get along just great."
-
An orchid and my trademark chocolate pie lay on the counter in his childhood kitchen. Marcel leaves the room to join me at the dining room table with his mother on his heels. I feel pretty uncomfortable, primarily because of all the lies I have to tell. Had I been given a choice, I would have refused this invitation. I don't want Edith's approval of me as her son's lover to be based on lies. But I must admit, I have never seen Marcel that way. I could see how hard it was for him it was to come back here. I don't know what happened between these walls, but it took a moment before he seemed to melt into a usual fun and outgoing man. It's like I see him reverse and become the naive child he talked to me so much about.
He talks to his mother about something I don't quite follow. My stare gets lost on him a moment, still not giving more attention to what is being said. His eyes are bright. He has a smile on his lips as he talks. He seems so impressionable. I have never seen him like that. It's yet another boundary of intimacy we seem to cross off the list. I'm meeting his mother in an official context, and he brought me where he grew up.
I look around the room and imagine a little Marcel with his big and curious green eyes and his curly locks running around. I see him at one of the stools by the counter island, looking at his father cooking, maybe even learning from him. Marcel has excellent cooking skills. I see him as a baby with his adorable dark birthmark on his tummy, taking a bath in the kitchen sink.
My heart aches a little when I look back at the grown vision of the little Marcel my imagination has produced. He is so tall, broad, handsome, intelligent, and profoundly caring and passionate. My heart sighs hard, and I feel all the love I hold for him rush inside of me.
I get lost further in my mind and realise that I have never felt like that with Steeve. I try not to think too much of our time together. We held some good moments, but unfortunately, they were rarer than the horrible ones. It's been complicated with Mace at times. He had run so many times when things got too deep for him. That's not even mentioning the whole Kate drama. I would go through hell with Mace before choosing to go back with Steeve. I have tears rushing to my eyes, thinking about what has happened between Steeve and me. I never realised how wrong it all was. It was limit cruel... All these memories come rushing to my head. How could I have been so blind?!
I look up and realise how tears have filled my eyes. I let out a shy apology and excuse myself from the table. My heart gets heavier but for totally different reasons than it felt earlier when I looked at Marcel.
I get in the first bathroom I see and close the door quickly. I head to the sink and look at myself in the mirror in front of me. My face is hidden behind my wig and my reading glasses. I thought it might be good to wear my glasses with my disguise to hide my traits. I still recognise myself, but Edith has only seen me a handful amount of times. She shouldn't be that hard to fool, and it seems to be working good so far.
I breathe in and out deeply to calm the tears and don't let them fall from my eyes. I can't help but think back at Steeve. Even though he isn't in my life anymore, he always finds a way to ruin everything. I can't believe it's because of him that William has lost his job. He seemed weirdly happy with the outcome, but it makes me angry that Stee so easily messes with my life in some way.
Arghhhh...
I'm about to leave the room when I hear a knock at the door. A tender voice calls for my name.
"Grace?"
I finish washing my hands before heading for the door. He is leaning on the door frame, blocking me the way out with a sad grin. Why is he sad? He looks up at me with his more natural cold expression. He straightens himself and joins me inside of the room, closing the door behind him.
"What's wrong?" He immediately asks me once he is facing me again.
"Nothing..." I lie and look down at myself, remembering the charade we are putting on for his mother. "I just needed a minute to myself and use the loo."
"Oh, thank God." He reacts instantly. I see his body relax, and it makes me frown. I stop him right before he reaches to open the door.
"Marcel? What is it? What did you think was going on?"
"Nothing, I just..." I know he is lying, so I just look at him with the same cold expression. I cross my arms on my chest to hint to him that I don't believe his shit. That's why he stops talking and sighs before telling me the actual truth. "I thought that after everything, you didn't want to lie to my mum and play that character."
"Why would you think that?"
"I don't know. Because you doubt me... Because I have deceived you... Because you are a strong woman and not being yourself when I officially introduce you to my mother is an insult to you..."
"I will stop you right there," I tell him with pure honesty. "Yes, I have doubted you, and yes, you deceived me greatly yesterday. And yes, I don't like having to be another person to meet your mum. I hate that she doesn't like the real me, but that isn't your fault. I love you, Marcel. I don't expect you to be perfect and never make mistakes, which you clearly stated to me last night that it was and that you chose me over her. So how mean of me would it be to hold it still over your head? It's in the past now."
"I'm so sorry it came to this. It started out as a game, and we got caught in our lies. Never would I want to change you, you know that, right?"
I nod silently and sigh. I take two steps closer to him and hug him tightly. He puts his arms loosely around me but ultimately leans his head against mine.
"I don't care what anyone thinks of you. To me, you are the most passionate and hardworking woman I have ever met. I just want to protect your career. Everybody has given me a hard time in life because they thought I had it so easy. I don't want people at the office to look at you the same just because we're in a relationship. It would be unfair to degrade your hard work like that."
"I understand that part, believe me. I just don't understand why we can't tell your mum about us. She should be the last person to judge us. The same thing happened to your parents."
"Exactly, she knows how hard it is. And I think the fact that my dad always warned me about this situation is making it seem like a betrayal..."
"This is crazy."
"It isn't. Mum had told me many stories about people trying to charm my dad when they were together because it meant more money on their contract or more chance to be published. She could explain it better than me. I have never thought this would actually be happening to me."
"That what would happen to you?"
"I never thought I would fall in love with one of my writers..." He smiles and shakes his head, looking down. It's an adorable sight to see. "I never thought somebody would get through to me like you do. I never thought somebody would put up with me as much as you do. So I never paid attention to their warnings nor their reasons to."
"You are becoming better and better at opening up." I grin at him very proudly, and it gets me an immediate eye roll and a big and beautiful smirk.
"Oh shut up!" He jokes back at me, and it sets the mood so much more joyful between us. I take a step closer to him and peck him quickly. "Want me to show you around?"
"What about your mum? She's waiting for us."
"I don't care. We'll make her wait. What do you think she'll do if it upsets her? Throw us out?"
"Yeah!"
"I wouldn't mind it that much. I will always prefer to have you to myself."
I look at him for a short time, but it's enough for me to see a darkness in his eyes. I don't know whether it's a disguised lust or another depth of feelings I don't know anything about, but I can easily see fragility and coldness. In my heart, I feel like this translate to some issue from his past. I question myself a second to be so blunt and maybe be totally wrong. But the longer I look at him, the stronger I feel that I'm right in my heart.
"Why are you so jealous, boy?" I keep my gaze on his. I seem to get through his walls, and I think I merely see an answer drawn through his emotions.
His eyes are an ocean of emotions I barely know my way in but get so drawn to dive deep in. I am happy he's learned to communicate better with words, but I have to admit that it applies to his eyes as well.
I look at him frown at me in response to my question, it takes time, but he doesn't answer. Instead, I see his frown fade... very... slowly.
"Mmh?" I ask again with a firm determination to have an answer.
The look in his eyes changes to become soft and tender and deeply pained. It lasts a second. He shuts off completely, letting only the cold and guarded Marcel in front of me. What has happened in his past to make him so guarded and jealous? Because I know that's what he was!
"Stop that." His tone is chilly and stern. I didn't expect that. Not at all. He used to behave like this when we first met. Not now.
"I simply asked a question." I look at him straight in the eyes, mirroring his own behaviour. I will not let him bully me into silence. Something happened in his head to make him lose his shit in a matter of seconds. "What went through your head when I asked you that?"
He steps towards me with a much firmer tone, scaring me almost. His eyes are bleeding fire. I have reached a depth I never have before to set him off like that. I didn't do anything else than ask a question, but his mind travelled somewhere, and it triggered something in him. What can't he share with me?
"I said STOP." His tone is murmured but in a furious way between his clenched teeth.
I step back but don't submit. That's all he wants. He wants to scare me into not digging into his feelings again. That won't work! I understand it's like a defence mechanism, but he doesn't realise the effects of his impulsive behaviour on me. Nothing hurts me more than when he shuts me out like that.
"You are so cold that you don't even realise how you are hurting me right now." I let out, but it comes out as a bit of whisper, a choke in my voice.
I'm deeply hurt and get scared a slight second that I have jumped right back into a poisoned relationship. I so don't want him to turn out like Steeve. I know he isn't. And I know he won't. But for a moment there, I got scared.
I shake my head as well as my need to cry to leave the bathroom in a hurry. I can't help a man that doesn't want to be helped. He has so many demons haunting him. I guess he prefers to suffer than to fight them. I can't make him. He has clearly proven that to me right now.
I walk back to the dining room and sit back in front of Edith, pouring herself another glass of wine. I push my glass towards her, and she gets the message. She pours it half full and puts back the bottle in front of her with a smirk.
"He is a wonderful masterpiece, my son." She lets out after a moment of silence, where we both drank a sip of wine. "He is beautiful, intelligent, but oh so complex. People get the impression they want depending on how much work and attention they are willing to spend on my son. It's a blessing and a curse. How much of a story is hidden behind a painting? Only one knows. If he doesn't tell, there's no way for anyone to find out. We can study the painting, take it out of its frame, even open it by cutting through it with a knife, but the only thing we'll never know is how the artist wanted to portray his masterpiece."
"Marcel is the artist?"
"No, dear, you are now." I frown, trying to understand her logic, but she continues to enlighten me. "You are painting your own masterpiece. He isn't the man he once was. He talks now. He finally accepts to come here for dinner. He is happy. You are painting your Marcel, and he will come, bits by bits, adding colour to your masterpiece with the stories he will share. You wouldn't be here if the canvas was blank."
"That's a pretty poetic picture."
"I have published many books, Grayson, but Marcel will always be my greatest work of art."
"Why doesn't he come here for dinner anymore? He told me you used to be very close." I frown back in curiosity, Marcel's mum distracting me from what happened in the loo. I take my glass of wine and hide behind it the time of a few slow sips.
"It's true. It was a very long time ago, but it's true." She repeats and looks at me from across the table. "We both lost something precious in our life. Andrew was an incredible man and an even more remarkable dad. I don't know if he ever told you about his death..."
"Only that he got stolen from you."
"Marcel is a man of very few words, Grayson, but indeed Andrew got stolen from us. For some time, we were very close, but I soon realised that the company was also one of Andrew's babies I needed to take care of." She informs me, and I listen to every word. Maybe she can tell me more about the past Marcel so dearly keeps hidden. "Deep inside of me, I always thought he was jealous of the time I was spending at the company trying to take Andrew's place. That's why he parted. He tried everything to find his own place in the company when he got older, and I liked that. He made me feel so proud, and it got me to see him become more and more like his father."
"What changed? Why didn't you want him to become an editor?" I ask at the rhythm of my curiosity and feel bad very quickly. She eyes me suspiciously hence making me regret such sudden behaviour.
"Kate happened."