55
Two days later, my bags are packed, my plane ticket booked.
All my memories are packed away in a small cardboard box: the photos, the stuffed koala, the orange blossom perfume, the little messages scribbled on scraps of paper, the heather-gray T-shirt I’ve been holding onto since I wore it the day he was arrested.
Everything that ties me to Vadim Arcadi.
To the nine most beautiful months of my life.
I spent two sleepless nights writing him the longest letter, unable to put my pen down. I have so much to tell him, but I know I won’t be able to speak to him again.
I’m allowed to attend his hearing today, but it’s over.
I won’t be able to get close to him anymore.
Won’t be able to touch him, smell him, kiss him.
The thought of it fills me with an immense emptiness.
I feel as though I don’t even exist anymore.
Like I’m a ghost of who I used to be—the person Vadim allowed me to become.
In the crowded courtroom, I sit on a wooden bench, Felix and Clémentine squeezed in on either side of me.
Clémentine has slipped her hand into mine, while Felix cracks his knuckles nervously.
None of us dares to speak. My father is waiting for me in the parking lot; he will drive me to the airport once I have seen that he kept his word.
And I will honor my side of the bargain: I will leave without looking back.
If my legs are willing to carry me. If I can still manage to breathe.
Vadim enters the courtroom through a small side door.
He is wearing his regular clothes: jeans, a black T-shirt, and white sneakers.
I take in everything I love about him: his tall, muscular body; his broad shoulders; his masculine yet graceful gestures; his slow, almost nonchalant walk; his angelic face; and his stern, dark, tormented look.
Seeing him calms me and tears me apart at the same time: he is himself again, a world away from the prisoner in the orange jumpsuit who kept his head down and accepted his fate without a word, but as I watch him I know that I will never be able to stop loving him.
An elegant man in a three-piece suit places a delicate hand on Vadim’s back, inviting him to sit down next to him.
Vadim shrugs him off and, still standing, turns around to scan the room.
Two stormy gray eyes land on mine. They pierce right through me.
I hold my breath, while my hand grips Clémentine’s even harder, crushing her fingers.
The lawyer starts taking out his files, occasionally leafing through the pages and jotting down a few notes with a huge, gold pen. He looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
As for me, I don’t know anything anymore. Why I did this. Why I’m here. Why Vadim is staring at me as if I betrayed him. Why there is so much anger, so much hatred simmering below the surface of that dark gaze.
I stand up, driven by some unknown force outside of me.
I need the pain to stop. I need to leave, or I’m going to scream.
I must not cry. He needs to understand that I did this for him, of my own free will.
That I have no regrets. That I want to give him what he holds most dear, the greatest gift I’ll ever be able to give him: his freedom.
And that, in exchange, I’m willing to give back what I cherish most in the world.
Him. Vadim Arcadi. My lover, my great love, my best friend. My whole life.
Fat, warm tears roll down my cheeks. They have never tasted so bitter.
A few feet away from me, Vadim parts his lips.
I know he wants to roar, to throw everything away.
I look at him and slide a finger over my lips to tell him to be quiet.
Not to ruin everything. In response, his eyes beg me to stop crying.
In this noisy, crowded room, there is only him and me.
Standing, facing each other. Much too far away, yet still much too close.
I have to leave.
Silently, my lips form the three words I came here to say to him one last time.
He runs his hands furiously through his curly hair.
His handsome face quivers. His eyes grow brighter, glistening and gray.
I drown in them again. I realize that he has given in.
He has finally let go, and in doing so, he gives me back my freedom too.
His ultimate proof of love.
You + Me is carved into stone and wood somewhere here in California. But I will take it with me to Paris, engraved in my heart for the rest of my life.