♡
Michael's POV
"You can't continue like this, Michael", tatie's unforgettable voice made me groan loudly.
My private pilot had flown me to the airport where my driver had picked me and the others up. Before I could even grasp what I was doing, I had stood in front of Marthe's house with my suitcase and briefcase in my hands and Marie and Gerard by my side.
The first day I had laid in my room and did nothing, until the memories suffocated me, so I went out and ran from our village to the next, without even me noticing it. I collapsed the moment I entered the house and had slept at the entrance.
The second day I didn't even spend another minute inside. I got up, brushed my teeth, went to the city and bought as much alcohol as I could.
The 63-year-old woman stood there with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot.
If you looked at my mother's aunt, you would think she was my real mother. I had her eyes and her once blonde hair had been the same shade of mine, we even had the same nose. Sadly she was as stubborn as a typical Beaumont and rarely let others take over for her.
I loved to insist I had inherited my leadership from her.
Marthe moved to the window of the living room, and before I could stop her, she lifted the blinds. I yelled as the sharp light filled the room and pressed a hand against my throbbing head. It took me several moments to calm down.
"Drinking yourself to sleep, smoking one cigarette after the other, leaving the house at impossible times – you are scaring me to death here." Her grey straight hair she always kept in a short, but stylish lob, which she regularly took care of. It had been that way ever since I had started living with her.
"I'm alright", I groaned and slowly sat up.
"You aren't! Léon told me something about a girl you loved who has left you, every one of us plans to get you away until you are better and what do you do? Deny my food, my help, don't want to talk to me, Marie nor Gerard! For three days you have been drinking one bottle after the other, going out the house whenever I want to talk to you-"
I shot to my feet and went by her, kissed her cheek and went into my old room. Marthe didn't try to stop me, nor did she rush after me. I took three stairs at once, which let out a protesting groan, and jolted to my room. It was still the same, as if I hadn't left it 11 years ago. The awful posters, the CDs, DVDs, music player, footballs, pictures of my friends – it was all still there.
Even the desk my grandfather had passed onto me. It now held an ugly lamp tatie had found at the market, along with my briefcase, some newspapers Gerard had bought for me that I hadn't touched and my notebook.
My suitcase was in the middle of the room, unopened. I ignored it and moved to my old dresser where I kept clothes for the village. I slipped into black sweatpants and a thick, dark red Harvard pullover I had gotten from university and had brought back to Gordes to show Marthe. She had been so proud after I had finished my first year with flying colours.
I took my cigarettes along, my wallet, didn't even bother checking my emails and went downstairs. The phone was probably empty anyways.
I stopped halfway down. The staircase protested at my weight, but I ignored it. It had been that way since I had first arrived here 16 years ago.
What if Sara writes back?
I ran up the stairs again, slammed the door open and quickly took it. "Stop stomping around, you'll break the floor!", Marthe yelled. I checked everything for her name.
Nothing.
My heart dropped.
I trotted down the stairs, earning a concerned look from my aunt.
"Mon beau ..."
"I'll be back later", I stared out the window. "I'll prepare your fence. Don't wait for me."
Marie and Gerard came out the kitchen. "I'll come along", Gerard already took his jacket, not listening to a word I said.
Together we walked to the car. I tossed him the keys. I was in no condition to drive. My head still hurt, I still tasted the wine in my mouth and my stomach was spinning. Gerard drove the car slowly because of that.
I watched the brown stone houses pass slowly behind us. They gave the small home something antique, rustic, something that made you feel at piece. It always smelled good in Gordes. If it was the season of lavender, it smelled of it in the whole village, or when they made vine, you could smell it too. Today it smelled of fresh bread, coffee and the early spring. The early birds were already at the food market which took place every Tuesday morning.
If you wanted to live in a peaceful place where everybody knew everybody and there wasn't much to do, then this was the right place. I however, even though I lived in two big cities, still loved Gordes. Sometimes I needed the quiet.
But not now. I wanted Sara's endless chattering back. I wanted to hear her lovely voice. Even if she just yelled at me again, I wouldn't mind. My heart ached in longing and my fingers twitched in greed. I want to hold her, I want to kiss her –
But she doesn't want me in her life anymore.
Gerard patted my knee silently as I shut my eyes. "Should we stop?"
"No. I'm alright."
My sentence couldn't be further from the truth.
I picked out a dark red colour to suit the colour of tatie's house and moved to the wood section of the supplies store to pick out a fitting wood for her front yard. The drive from the village to the store took mere minutes, but I didn't want to carry everything by foot back home.
Aunt Marthe lived in a mas, a farmhouse, next to vine and lavender fields she owned. She made wine as well as anything lavender related, like the past few Beaumont's in Gordes had. If their season was over, she could easily live of the money she had made during the season of harvest. Tourists flooded Gordes any season now it seemed, but fall was almost unbearable.
Laughter made me look up from the cherry wood. I knew that bright voice.
I peered around the corner. Two of my old school friends, Juliette and Abel, were standing with their backs turned to me by the paint section which I had just left, deciding between two shades of pink. Juliette turned slightly as she reached out for something and my eyes widened. She was pregnant. Heavily pregnant.
I quickly retreated.
If they spotted me, they would invite me over. Anytime I came back to Gordes, my old friend gathered and either visited me or surprised me. I didn't need that right now.
I took an armful of the first wood I could grab and quickly went to the cash register.
It should have been us.
My breath grew rigid and my anxiety rose. My hands were getting sweaty, my mind dizzy and my stomach twisted in pain. The ten bottles of wine from the last few days seemed to bother me now suddenly.
It should have been us. Laughing. Happy. Married. Expecting.
Instead I fucked it up because I had let Eleanor come by.
And now I had lost the love of my life, the woman who I had wanted to marry and have children with.
Gerard quietly helped me stuff the junk into the trunk and I frantically took the keys from him. I just wanted to go. Leave. Run.
"Can you-?"
"I'm alright", I interrupted him snappily, quickly climbed into the SUV and turned the key. I was short of breath. The engine started loudly.
"I just want to leave." My headache had stopped, and my heart was pounding. I had come to my senses again.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I couldn't even be drunk without thinking about her.
"Should we repair tatie's kitchen isle too? I remember that a corner is missing."
"Michael ..."
"We should. You and Marie should go to the market, she loves it. Marthe will go to the Rosier or something like that. I'm sure the gallery has new pictures she would like."
"Stop pushing us away", Gerard barked, and I flinched.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" I turned on the radio and turned it up to full volume, making the music swallow his words. I zapped through the channels once he grew quiet.
The French radio moderator announced the next song. Happier, by Ed Sheeran.
I froze, and my breath stocked. Sara hummed that song often when we rode the car together, as it always seemed to play when we were together. I saw her soft smile in front of me, her beaming brown eyes and the uneven singing filled my ear. She had the most beautiful singing voice, even if it was far from perfect.
I wanted to switch again but the button froze. I cursed. Marthe really needed a new car. I should buy her one to thank her for everything she had to endure because of me-
'Walking down 29th and Park
I saw you in another's arms
Only a month we've been apart
You look happier
Saw you walk inside a bar
He said something to make you laugh
I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours
Yeah, you look happier, you do'
Gerard rushed to switch channels. The damn button wouldn't work.
I swallowed heavily. I missed the feeling of her in my arms. The soft touch of her skin, the softness of her breasts against my chest, the flowery smell from her perfume and I missed how her hair tickled my beard when she was pressed against me.
I tried to breathe through the panic that was building up inside of me.
'Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you
But ain't nobody love you like I do
Promise that I will not take it personal, baby
If you're moving on with someone new
'Cause baby you look happier, you do
My friends told me one day I'll feel it too
And until then I'll smile to hide the truth
But I know I was happier with you'
My shoulders slumped down and I grew frustrated, lost. How I missed her. How I fucking missed her.
Her voice, her smile, her kisses, her arms, her jokes, everything about her.
'Sat on the corner of the room
Everything's reminding me of you
Nursing an empty bottle and telling myself you're happier
Aren't you?
Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you
But ain't nobody need you like I do
I know that there's others that deserve you
But my darling, I am still in love with you
But I guess you look happier, you do
My friends told me one day I'd feel it too
I could try to smile to hide the truth
I know I was happier with you
Baby, you look happier, you do
I knew one day you'd fall for someone new
But if breaks your heart like lovers do
Just know that I'll be waiting here for you'
The song ended exactly as we arrived the house and the button suddenly worked again. I cursed and slammed my head against the wheel. It seemed as if everything was mocking me.
Gerard placed a tight hand on my shoulder and drew me to his side. He hugged me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. We stayed like that until I felt as if the void in my body would swallow me. "Let's go."
"You aren't fine yet."
"I'll never be without her."
My servant, best friend, my father, shook my shoulders. "I got separated from Marie too and I know how it hurts, but if you really love her that much, and if she loves you as much as you love her, then you will be reunited again. Fate plays cruel tricks, but it can be kind too."
"I don't believe you until I have her in my arms again."
Gerard frowned slightly. "Michael let's talk. All of us. Inside. Eat then sleep. The fence can wait."
"It can't. I'm fine. Go inside. I'm alright on my own."
When my hands were busy, my mind was quiet – and I needed that right now.
I climbed out the car and took the supplies. Gerard stayed by the car until I finished unloading and until he really made sure I was fine on my own. I waved the hammer at him and showed I was sober. My father frowned and went inside to Marie and Marthe.
Saw – Marthe surely has my saw. I bought one extra for France, since this farmhouse was in dire need of a renovation. Anytime I came back to Gordes, I repaired something.
I carried the table saw outside and got the wood. I frowned at myself. In my desperate flight I had bought dark brown walnut wood. I had wanted better suiting woods like cypress, pine, spruce, cedar or redwood, but oh well. Now I had to work with what I had.
Aunt Marthe never liked anything wooden – our house stuck out as one of the few ones which wasn't made out of different brown stones. It had a red and white façade, and she had always wanted a red fence. I wasn't allowed to give my two cents regarding her furnishing choice, so I stayed quiet.
It would take two or three days until I managed to finish this project. I had to remove the old fence, I had to cut the wood, paint it and build it around the house. It made me feel calm for a few minutes.
The moment I grabbed the wood, my mind went into work mode. Anything to get my head free and to stop thinking about her.
♡
"Michael, what the fuck?"
I stopped changing the oil of tatie's car. I picked up the tools from before and cleaned them before I turned to tatie.
"You and cursing? You taught me it's the biggest sin in our house to do so."
"The way you are behaving it's only adequate." Her blue eyes were piercingly sharp. She stepped forward and laid her wrinkly hand on my cheek.
"Marie and Gerard woke me up since you didn't listen to them."
"I don't know why you all are against me repairing your stuff", I huffed angrily.
"Because it's not like you to repair everything you can get your hands on, drinking until you pass out and smoking instead of eating proper meals. You lost weight. You look like a skeleton."
Marthe stepped back, crossing her arms.
"Either you talk to me or we can do this my way, Michaël Philippe de Beaumont!"
I sighed heavily at my full name. "Stop with the 'de'. It's so old-fashioned." I put the tools into the tool belt and put my hands on my hips. "Here, I stopped. What else do you want me to do? Go and eat a proper meal? Take a bath? Cry in your arms?"
Marthe stepped forward and tugged at my ear. "I want you to talk to me instead of brooding quietly. You did that as a teenager and I had to get a psychologist because of it. It only eats you alive. It worries and pains me."
"That's the best thing that could happen to me now."
Sharp pain stung in my cheek. Tears glistened in my aunt's eyes.
"Sorry", I lowered my head. "I shouldn't have said that."
"I, for the life of me, cannot understand what is going on with you right now. Neither your parents nor Eleanor left you that harshly in shambles."
"It was worse with father and mother", I protested.
"Michael are you really that infatuated with this girl?"
I had to lean against the car.
Once I opened my mouth, I couldn't stop.
"It hurts. Whenever I even remember something, or whenever something reminds me of her, my body aches. The pain just won't go away, no matter what I do."
Marthe scanned my face, then wrapped her morning coat tightly around her body. It was 3 in the morning, I just now noticed. When had I even started working on the car? Oh right, when I had built the fences, the radio stations had played one love song after the other, so I had bashed the button in.
"Let's go for a walk."
"You should sleep, tatie. Don't do this to yourself."
Her eyes glistened. "Michael, I raised you. I love you like you are my own child, do you really think I can go back to bed knowing you are suffering like this?"
"You shouldn't strain yourself for me."
"Nonsense. I'll go get my shoes and you'll get a jacket. Change your shirt while you are at it."
I looked down. The Harvard logo was barely visible because it was tainted with oil and colour.
A black shirt was the first thing I tugged out the closet. I threw on the first jacket I grabbed out the suitcase and stopped as my phone lit up.
My heart was pounding to my ears.
But it wasn't from Sara. I sighed deeply. I was unsure what to text back.
That would do. For now.
Marthe waited at the entrance of her house and rolled the gate open for us. She took my arm and we slowly and quietly walked towards the vine fields.
The gravel crunched underneath our feet. The wind was blowing and making it a bit chilly, but I ignored it. "Are you sure you are alright?"
"Yes, Michael. The weather doesn't get to me anymore."
We fell quiet again.
"So?", Marthe nudged me.
"So what?"
"It's your turn to talk. Not mine. I don't have problems."
"You always have problems", I protested. "Your car barely works. Your children moved away. Your husband is busy in Paris."
"Your uncle will come by this Saturday to see you off, he hasn't had time to come sooner", there was a glint in tatie's eyes.
The Beaumont's were a funny family. They either lived an easy life or were wealthy and big. My aunt was easy going and my uncle loved Paris and it's opportunities. He worked in a bank, which had inspired me as a teenager and had laid the foundation for my future path. I had found it fascinating how he had numbers at his mercy and ever since that I had loved mathematics, accounting and economics.
"I'm married, I have children and grandchildren too, my dear. You on the other hand-"
I frowned, and she stopped.
"It's complicated."
"I can tell." Marthe watched me take out a cigarette. I didn't offer her one. "Hey!"
"Your doctor said you should smoke less!", I chided her.
"I haven't smoked at all today!"
"I saw you sneak a cigarette after lunch, don't lie to me, tatie!"
We looked at each other.
We laughed.
My laughter weakened after a few seconds and my heart twisted in pain.
"Oh Michael ..."
"I love her so much", I whispered. I closed my eyes and her face immediately appeared in front of me. "Marthe, whenever I close my eyes, I see her beautiful face. Whenever I listen to anything, I can hear her voice. I can't sleep because I just keep on thinking about her, about our dates, our kisses, our laughs, our jokes. It's hard to breathe. I'm not hungry. I'm not thirsty. I just want to drown this pain already."
I looked into the distance and tried to breathe evenly. However, my breaths came out shaky.
Sara would have loved this view. The vine yards opened in front of us, the not yet growing lavender hiding in the soil. The village opened in front of us in a parametric view and you could see everything. The church, the houses, the shops, the market – everything.
"We dated for almost two months. She almost confessed she loved me too, I just know it. She's going through a divorce and her ex did her so dirty, Marthe. I wanted to do everything better, I treated her like she deserves to be treated."
I blinked away the tears.
"Eleanor came by one day, randomly, suddenly, and as always she tried to crawl back to me. I declined. I didn't grow weak, I didn't let her play with me; I threw her out the office. Sara had been there when she left, and she stormed inside-"
Her face had been taunted with anger, her brown eyes were so sharp I had feared the could kill on the spot.
"She screamed awful things at me and told me to stay away from her." I couldn't keep on walking anymore. "Marthe, I didn't do anything – I really didn't do anything! Sara just – she-"
Marthe wrapped me in her arms.
"You didn't grow weak?"
"I didn't! The only woman I love and want is her!" I couldn't hold back a sob. Why was I such a weakling? "I want her back, Marthe. I want my Sara back!"