Next to me, the bed was empty, Isaac's place cold, a sign that he had gotten up before me. The sound of water flowing in the shower reached me, discreetly, and then strangely reassured me.
I've never woken up next to him, and I don't think that will ever happen.
From what I had gathered about his personality, he was probably not the type to hang out in bed, and even less to curl up. No, he didn't like that sort of thing.
He was a morning person - or an insomniac - in a hurry, and did not want to dwell on this type of thing that was futile in his eyes. I knew it since the day we met.
I stared at the ceiling, while the first light of day slipped shyly through the curtains. Memories of the day before flashed through my mind, blurry images and mixed sensations of an evening that had taken an unexpected turn.
I still remembered his warm body against mine, his breath in the crook of my neck, his hands on my hips and his animal gaze. But I also remembered what happened next, and with silent decision, I pushed back the sheets and decided to get up, no longer wanting to dwell on these things that I so deeply wanted to forget.
I walked down the steps of the duplex, and into the kitchen bathed in morning light, I turned on the coffee machine, filling the air with the earthy scent.
With my steaming cup in my hands, I sat on the high chair at the central island, in front of this enormous picture window overlooking New York. This panorama is crazy.
Today the sun came out as if to say that spring had returned. And honestly, it felt good. The soft light, the colors that come back to life, it's like a new beginning. There were no longer these grayish, bluish or greenish colors. There were yellowish and orange tones in the atmosphere.
Captivated by this atmosphere, I got up and went to the fridge, filled thanks to the stove.
I wanted to try something.
A small smile appeared on my lips, pure satisfaction at seeing that there was jam, raspberry in here, even if I didn't care about the flavor. I then grabbed the pot and started looking for bread in the cupboards downstairs. It was strange to see them full, which had been so empty since my arrival.
Then finally, I managed to find a package of sliced bread, which I had difficulty opening. I hate people who seal bags so tightly.
Victory for me, I took out two slices. Without a toaster and too lazy to toast them in a pan, I was content to simply spread the butter then the jam. It was like rediscovering a forgotten pleasure, a simple gesture yet so meaningful to me.
Isaac's presence on my right caught my attention. He was coming down the steps, dressed in a white tank top and a gray tracksuit. This man is a model.
A cigarette dangled nonchalantly from his lips, completing the image of the guy who seemed to float above everyday worries, as if untouchable by the worries of the outside world.
This vision of him contrasted with what I had seen that night. I guess he quickly recovered from his emotions. It looked good on him.
Her still damp hair let a few drops of water run down her neck, indifferent to the effect it might have.
He quickly looked at what I was doing, and even though he didn't really let his emotions show and he didn't say anything to me, I saw that he seemed to be slightly surprised, positively I think. But he doesn't say anything to me, perhaps so as not to embarrass me or stop me in my tracks.
He made himself a coffee, then cup in hand, he walked around the island to sit where I was earlier, and observed the view in front of him, his back to me.
That was good, I didn't want him to watch me do it.
In my mouth, there were ridiculous fireworks. The sugar coated my tongue and sent little shivers down the back of my neck. The first bite was difficult to swallow, then not so much for the rest. I can't finish everything.
I think my emotions took over for half a second, I was everything, then I felt my eyes watering up. Realizing this, I took a huge breath while looking at the ceiling to stop this bullshit that was stronger than me. Pull yourself together, idiot.
It was ridiculous, but I was happy.
I left the leftovers on the plate, took my coffee a little cold, and came to sit next to Isaac in silence. He smelled good.
"I'm going to take you somewhere today, go change," he ordered me suddenly.
I looked at him suspiciously, dreading the moment when he would tell me that we were going to get ourselves into another quagmire, but no. He added nothing more.
"Where... ?" I dared to ask.
But instead of answering me, he got up, leaving his empty cup on the island, and went out.r the large terrace. Like the day before, he leaned against the railing and lit a new cigarette. I won't have an answer.
It was crazy how much he hated talking, as if doing so was a burden, an insurmountable task. Are all introverts the same?
Isaac wasn't just one of those cold, ruthless mercenaries you saw on TV. He was more than this cliché, and the more time passed, the more I realized it. Isaac had his personality, his character trait, his way of living, speaking, communicating, reading and understanding others. Everything was his own in his way of doing and being.
He was a difficult character to discern, to understand, and that's what attracted me so much about him from the beginning, something that still hadn't changed.
I stopped my thoughts, cleared my mug and my unfinished toast before rushing into my room. There, I took off my pajamas and dressed instead in a loose white long-sleeved t-shirt and faded blue jeans. That should do.
After a quick wash, I returned to the living room, where Isaac, also changed, seemed to be waiting for me while typing on his cell phone. He hadn't lost his temper yet, that was a first.
When he noticed my presence, he raised his head and looked at me quickly. Strangely, he gestured for me to come and sit next to him. Doubtful and without a word, I moved up to his level, and sat down beside him. There, he grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me so that my back was to him. I did not understand.
With his icy fingers brushing the back of my neck, he grabbed my loose hair, and I jumped slightly, surprised, but I let him do it. My hair was slightly wavy, so I didn't brush it, and I felt him gently separate it into equal parts while trying not to hurt me. What was he doing ?
Once done, I felt him begin to braid me with his skillful fingers. The silence that reigned was punctuated only by the light sound of our breathing and the rustling of hair between his fingers.
When he reached his back, he stopped. I then turned around, a small smile on my lips. And his eyes, yes his eyes, were so beautiful, right away.
At that moment his gaze was a poem that I read in a low voice,
Two black stars that inspired me with words that I couldn't pronounce,
And in this multitude of mixed feelings,
I knew they were where I belonged.
I had a rubber band on my wrist, so I pulled my braid in front of me to seal it. I wondered how he learned to braid, but the thought was interrupted.
"They smell like vanilla," he said to me, watching me do it.
It was true that I had changed shampoo. His noticing made the temperature of my face rise slightly.
He then stood up, and I imitated him in turn. At the entrance, we put on our jackets and shoes, then left the apartment.
"It seems that no one lives here," I said after realizing that I had never met anyone here.
"That's the case," he then replied.
Surprising. But-
"Is it-"
"Yes," he cut me off before getting into the elevator.
I see, the building was his. I should have figured it out sooner. It didn't even surprise me that he wanted it all for himself. Isolated to the end.
Outside, a car was waiting for us. A man opened the back door for us and I got in before the killer who let me pass in front of him. On the one hand, I was apprehensive, on the other, I was not afraid. It would have been more tense than that if this was a new mission.
I stopped thinking, having no answer to my questions anyway, and instead observed the city passing before my eyes.
After a while, I saw the road sign pointing to the airport, like last time, and understood that we were leaving the city.
A few kilometers later, we are there. I, who had never boarded a private jet until now, found myself making a habit of it, it was disconcerting. And so not me.
I wasn't very comfortable, something that hadn't changed since the last time, and remained glued to the mercenary's coattails. I followed him closely, as if afraid that someone would suddenly kidnap me. I was on my guard, and observed everything around me with an attentive eye, which almost gave me a headache after a while.
Then all of a sudden, Isaac pulled me towards him, holding me firmly by the arm, and narrowly avoided me running into this woman who was passing by me. She didn't seem to have noticed anything.
He just glanced at me and we continued walking without him letting go. He hadn't told me anything, and didn't need to. He must surely have already understood the state of mind I was currently in.
Its pOigne nevertheless had something protective and reassuring at the same time.
We quickly boarded, and the plane took off without further delay. We were seated next to each other, and I enjoyed the view out the window, fiddling with my braid from time to time like an impatient child.
At one point, Isaac, still glued to his cell phone, placed his large, cold hand on my thigh. It covered almost the entirety of my member, and the coolness of his fingers made me shiver all over my body.
I began to look at it out of the corner of my eye. He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt and loose black pants, apparently made of linen. Seeing his long legs stretched out in front of him, I can't help but remember that they were framing me the day before, on the bed. At the thought, I immediately looked away, ashamed to think about it now.
I tried to occupy myself with the magazines available or with my cell phone, but it was when I woke up from my nap that the time seemed to have passed quickly. Just a few hours later, I felt that the jet was already descending to land.
Through the porthole, good weather seemed to be waiting for us here too. Below us, a huge river meandered all along the valley, with dots of color here and there in certain places. There were also small green mountains, which let me guess that we were probably in the western United States. The landscape was magnificent.
When we left the jet, a car was waiting for us not far from it. The sunlight caressed the skin on my face, giving me a comforting warmth.
The car was going fast, but I had time to admire the landscape around us. The fields, vast expanses of greenery, followed one another, punctuated by the grace of the small roads which twisted between them. I saw birds flying proudly in the distance, adding detail to this portrait that stood before my eyes.
Then, as if nature had been waiting for the perfect moment to reveal its treasure, a field of colorful flowers suddenly appeared on the horizon. Tulips, in an explosion of color, spread as far as the eye could see, a palette of living colors that seemed to dance in the gentle afternoon wind. Amazed, I turned to Isaac, sitting on my left.
The latter, who seemed to have been looking at me for a while already, let me see a small smile on his lips, before telling me:
"It's the season."
It was true, it was spring, tulip season. And what a wonderful season!
I slid my hand towards the window control, opening it slightly, inviting the fresh air from outside to seep into the cabin of the car. Immediately, a light breeze caressed my face, carrying with it the subtle scent of tulips and earth warmed by the sun. A few unruly strands escaped my braid and swirled around my face.
The car left the main road to venture onto a path that wound through this enchanting scene, and my heart soared with happiness. I will be able to admire them up close.
We finally stopped in the shade of a large tree, whose branches stretched out as if to embrace the sky. A few meters away, a pastel yellow farm seemed to watch over the fields.
We all got out, including the driver. I began to follow Isaac, who already seemed to know the place, not without wondering what we were doing here.
An elderly man, dressed in a blue checkered shirt, jeans and a straw hat came out from inside and seemed to wonder who we were. He was quite skinny and seemed to have difficulty standing up.
"Isaac?" he wondered when we closed the distance between us.
I didn't see the killer's reaction since he was in front of me, but the latter came to give him a silent and warm hug. So they know each other.
"What the hell are you doing here? Since time..." added the old man, breaking away.
He seemed moved, but the brunette said nothing, except a comforting smile.
"Hello, my little lady," he said to me after noticing my presence.
"Hello," I replied, hugging her back.
"Isabella, let me introduce you to Zack," Isaac said, without adding any more details.
I bowed my head shyly in response to these introductions, since the man also didn't ask to know who I was exactly. He just seemed surprised to see me alongside the killer.
"You could go see the flowers," the latter said to me. "I won't be long."
Did I have the right to enter the property?
"Can I-"
"Yes yes ! You can go there, take the trails!" the old man cut me off in a confident and sympathetic tone. "You can pick some if you want."
I smiled at him in response, and let themfind myself by moving away from them. I wondered who he was why we had come to see him, but I would ask him later.
For now, I'm content to enjoy this enormous field all to myself.
From my position, you would think there was no end. It was so big. The flowers formed groups of colors, and it was the yellow ones that greeted me first when I entered along the little path. My hands began to delicately touch the silky petals, the bright, saturated colors mingling under the clear sky. Their scent enveloped the air, sweet and heady, a subtle blend that captured the very essence of spring.
Even though my long-sleeved t-shirt was thin and loose, I felt the intense heat of the late afternoon weighing down.
My senses were alert, imbued with a deep joy that I had missed. Everything was going so well today, spring was on my side. The wind played through my hair, ruffling it roughly, one wild and comforting caress at the same time. It brought with it the quivering of tulips, an almost musical murmur that accompanied each of my movements.
In a rush, I took off my shoes, letting my bare feet touch directly the fresh grass and loose earth beneath my feet. The moment my skin came into contact with the ground, a feeling of deep connection with the earth came over me.
I stopped for a moment, closed my eyes, and breathed in the fresh air, disconnecting from my body and becoming one with the surroundings. I wanted to enjoy this moment in the most beautiful way, I wanted to feel everything.
Shoes in hand, I continued to advance, until I crossed the border between the yellow tulips which I left for the red ones. They were so beautiful.
I then leaned down and delicately picked one of them. On my right, pink tulips. I also picked one, and here I am with two tulips.
Further in the field, I saw a large tree, wide and imposing. He was alone, standing majestically with all his presence. Curiously, I started walking in that direction while continuing to caress, smell and admire the flowers on my way.
A hand rested on my shoulder and I jumped slightly in surprise before turning. I didn't even hear him coming. A real wolf.
My gaze fell on the tulip in his hand, a solitary yellow one. Its petals shone like gold.
"Are you finding happiness?" he asked me, looking at mine.
I responded with a smile.
"Who is this man ?" I asked.
He looked down at the tulip, and took out a Swiss army knife from the back of his pocket.
"A Dutchman who helped me several years ago."
With the sharpened blade he began to cut the stem and seemed to shorten it minutely.
"I learned that he was dying, I came to see him one last time," he added.
The contrast between the serenity of the moment and the weight of the words heard could not be more striking. My bare feet still felt the invigorating freshness of the grass, and yet in my heart a coldness settled.
"I'm sorry..." I whispered, while my little hair twirled around my face.
He didn't seem truly sad.
"Don't be sorry, he's happy to go," he said to me then. "He will finally reunite with his wife."
His voice was tinged with a sort of melancholy, but not sadness, I suppose he must have known her too.
I wanted to know more, but I knew he wouldn't tell me anything more.
"I was planning to come alone, but I thought of his fields."
And he said to himself that I would like it.
Yes, he hadn't finished his sentence but I understood it just from the way he looked at me, from the way he conveyed to me the message he didn't want to say to me out loud.
"It's beautiful," I said with regard to her tulip, finished.
He smiled, and that simple gesture seemed to lighten the air around us.
I smiled too.
The wind was hot.
Then he brought the plant above my ear, and stuck it there, perfectly placed.
"Yes, she is beautiful," he added.
But he wasn't looking at the flower.
And my heart raced.
There is not a sound around us, except the singing of birds. We were far from the farm, and we seemed lost in the middle of this colorful field, with the only witness being the setting sun.
His silhouette stood out against the sky, strikingly beautiful, as if he were an integral part of this living canvas. His wavy hair twirled too, but he arranged it back with a flick of his hand. At that moment, we both looked like free and invincible beings, it was crazy.
With my hair sticking out of my long braid, my bare feet and this flower, I must surely have the look of a little country girl.
"If I win a game against you, will you tell me what pushes you to take revenge?" I asked suddenlyent
He looked at me doubtfully, taken aback by my sudden reaction. I didn't think I was actually going to say it either, but the words just came out. Everything seemed so perfect today, that a deep intuition whispered to me that maybe this was the right time.
"What do I get if I lose?" he asked me interested.
I pretended to think.
"I'll tell you everything you want to know about me. In every detail," I confirmed.
"What's the bet?"
My gaze went back to the tree in the middle of the field.
"First to arrive wins."
He looked at the target, and still seemed to be thinking.
In reality, I didn't care about losing and talking to him about me, he already knew everything. I just wanted to try, I knew that without stakes he wouldn't tell me anything. And then, right away, I wanted to let off some steam. Everything suited it.
When I had the impression that he was convinced, I started running without further delay. For a moment, I turned around and saw him still not moving. I was going to win. My heart then began to palpitate even more, not because of the effort, but because in a few minutes, I was going to discover everything. Finally.
This thought could not end because without me expecting it, my race ended in the air, carried like a princess, only a few steps from the tree.
He had caught up with me. In the blink of an eye.
And I started laughing out loud.
There, our eyes met, him with this mischievous look, and this mocking smile. He seemed to admire me and butterflies flew furiously in my stomach. It was a sensation that I fully savored, I loved it.
A rebellious lock fell on his forehead. He was so handsome.
He walked a few steps, and placed me at the foot of the tree before sitting down and leaning against the trunk. Flowers spread all around us, as if we were the center of the world. The sun was setting a little more.
Slowly I approached him and also sat down beside him, before finally resting my head on his long legs stretched out in front of him. He didn't flinch or say anything, so I stayed like that, looking at his Adam's apple, his growing beard and his long eyelashes, while he looked at the view.
His hand then came to caress the top of my head, before playing with my braid which I had pulled back to my chest. In that moment, I was certain that the tulip he had chosen for me was yellow in reference to my hair. I knew he liked my hair.
He loved to caress them, touch them, play with them. He loved their color, like this phrase he said to me during our night swim.
"I almost let you win," he said without looking at me.
It was true, he hadn't run straight away. He began to caress my right forearm beyond my sleeve.
He showed special attention to these scars.
"Why did you change your mind?"
He seemed to think about this question for a moment, and the seconds, long, stretched out more and more.
"I don't know," he finally told me.
He is lying.
"I have to unpack my life for you now," I said, smiling.
He finally looked down at me and smiled.
"You can unwrap it for me when you want."
It was true, I didn't really want it right away.
All I wanted was to watch the sun set over the tulips, and feel his hand stroking my hair. Who would have thought that I would be reborn from my ashes? Everything led me to believe that I was going to sink further, but that was not the case. Things had taken a completely different turn. He was the first to show interest in me.
And when his lips delicately rested on mine, I told myself that today had been the happiest day of my life.
This man was my renaissance.
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