Chapter 20
In a state of semi-consciousness,my eyelids slowly lift, allowing light to penetrate my groggy eyes. A dry mouth and a fiery throat torment me, and I struggle to understand what is happening to me. Attempts to move remain futile; my limbs seem plunged into inertia. A shiver runs through my skin as a breeze of cool air caresses it, accentuating the roughness of my breathing.
But what is happening to me?
A growing panic forms in the pit of my stomach as a warm hand grasps mine. The hysterical beats of my heart calm down upon hearing the deep voice trying to reassure me.
“Don”t worry, Florence. I”m here.”
The desire to tighten my grip around his arises within me, but my strength betrays me. The next moment, he places a gentle kiss in the palm of my hand, soothing my agitated heart.
“Stay still, I am by your side, Florence.”
His gentle voice is a comforting murmur, soothing the turmoil shaking me. Lying in this cozy bed belonging to Corentin, I feel vulnerable and helpless. Weakness envelops me, and nausea resurfaces strongly. Awkwardly, I sit up, gently pushing Corentin away as I head to the bathroom. Hand pressed to my mouth, I vomit, feeling the acidity burn my throat. Corentin is there, supporting my heavy head and holding back my hair.
“It”s so disgusting. I feel so bad.”
I groan between two heaves, overflowing with discomfort.
“Shh,” he responds soothingly.
When I finish emptying my stomach, Corentin helps me brush my teeth, understanding my urgent need to get rid of the bitter taste. Back in his room, I collapse, shivering and exhausted. He watches over me, carefully wiping my face with a cool, damp cloth.
* * *
When I slowly regain consciousness,darkness envelops me. My mind is foggy, and I realize I”m no longer wearing the outfit I had on this morning. But what day is it, anyway? The clock reads eight o”clock, and I struggle to estimate how much time has passed since my last awakening. Wrapped in a white shirt seeming too big, I surmise it belongs to Corentin.
Did he undress me?
Before I can delve deeper into my thoughts, voices reach me from another room. I sit up, eager to break the silence around me. Opening the door, I”m blinded by artificial lights assaulting my eyes. Squinting, I head to the living room where I find Corentin on the phone. His voice sounds deeper, tinged with a strangeness reminiscent of a seasoned smoker. But my illness seems to have affected my hearing because I hear two voices when he”s the only one sitting on his couch, engaged in a phone conversation.
Approaching him, I slide my arms around his body and rest my head on the top of his skull. His body tenses under my touch, and he interrupts his conversation. Ready to kiss his skull, a voice rings out.
“Florence?”
Raising my gaze, I meet Corentin”s eyes. The real Corentin. Instantly, I recoil from the imposter and lock eyes with the authentic green orbs observing me with curiosity. A scream escapes my lips involuntarily. Corentin sets down the cup he was holding and steps closer.
“Easy, I”m here,” he reassures me, gently cupping my face in his hands.
I let myself lean against him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I inhale his scent with such intensity; I wonder if I”m not inhaling his soul at the same time. A whirlwind of emotions overwhelms me. I thought the fever was tormenting me, but it”s clear my situation is more serious than I thought. My vision becomes blurry, I see double images. I cling to Corentin, panic setting in.
“I”m losing my mind. There are two Corentins; I”m going crazy. I”ll end up in an asylum. Two Corentins, I gasp. I”m sick or do you have a twin brother?”
He holds me a little closer and whispers in my ear. “My poor Florence, you”re not losing your mind. It”s my father.”
Stepping back a bit, I observe the two men. The patriarch seems to be in his fifties, tall, with red hair and blue eyes. He mirrors Corentin in all aspects except the eyes. I assume my friend inherited his mother”s eyes. The patriarch is dressed in a branded shirt and stylish black pants.
“But it”s your father! Your father is here.” My words burst out with the enthusiasm of someone who has solved a complex puzzle. “I didn”t know you were so alike. He resembles Corentin twenty years from now. You age gracefully, sir. Corentin, you”ve got good genes.”
A knowing exchange of glances between Corentin and his father is followed by a burst of laughter from the older one.
“She”s charming,” he comments.
“Indeed.”
I snuggle back into the crook of Corentin”s neck, my fevered mind silencing any animosity I might have felt toward this man. I suddenly recall he”s the one who irritates my friend. With my arms wrapped around Corentin, I cling to him, and his hands hold me firmly against him, sliding under my buttocks.
“I”m exhausted.”
“I imagine so; you”ve been through a lot. You”ve earned a break. We”ll take you back to bed.”
“I”m hungry and thirsty. And I”m bored all alone over there.”
“I”ll prepare something for you to eat. In the meantime, you stay here.”
Corentin settles me next to his father, who ignores me. Father and son engage in a conversation on legal matters, completely eluding me. However, I clearly perceive Corentin”s tone becoming increasingly severe and icy as time passes.
As Corentin steps away to get me something, I turn to his father.
“Corentin”s dad?”
Now I”m acting like Charlotte when she met my mother. He turns slowly toward me.
“Yes?”
“What”s your name?”
“Edward.”
“It sounds like the name of a bad boy. My best friend, Charlotte, thinks it”s the perfect name for a villain. Is this the case for you?”
“Not to my knowledge, but those I face might think otherwise.”
He dives back into his paperwork. A moment of silence ensues, but I decide to break this tranquility.
“Edward, could you tell me embarrassing anecdotes about Corentin?”
My tone is teasing. “I doubt it. Besides, I don”t have any. You should ask Jackie; she”s been more present for him than I have.”
His response creates a certainty in me, an undeniable connection between him and Corentin”s actions. My emotions clash, a complex mix of anger and frustration. The desire to know more, to uncover the truth, becomes irresistible. My heart races in my chest, a pulsation resonating with the tumult of my thoughts.
Words are no longer sufficient to contain this storm within me. With a sudden movement, I seize the collar of his shirt, compelling his attention to fixate on me. His face displays genuine surprise, an astonishment contending with his apparent complacency. My own courage astonishes me. Our gazes lock, and I feel a shiver run down my spine, a mixture of fear and excitement. I am challenging authority, questioning a man who had remained untouched for so many months.
Mischief dances in his eyes, a gleam betraying the admiration he seems to feel for my audacity. And I, I surprise myself, amazed to have crossed this invisible line. Madness possesses me, an uncontrollable impulse pausing my usual rationality. My fingers clenched on his collar, I feel the beating of my heart in my temples. Adrenaline flows through my veins, and I don”t back down.
“You.”
My hands roam over his throat, and I remember how often I wanted to strangle him for what he did to my neighbor. I place my fingers around his neck, almost to check if I could strangle him, and he squints.
“Are you considering strangling me?”
I nod.
“You would risk prison if you succeeded,” he replies calmly.
“I know.”
A smirk forms on his lips. “Go ahead, I”m sure Corentin sent you.”
I gently squeeze his neck between my small hands. His eyes sparkle with mischief reminiscent of his son”s. I”m about to release my grip when I hear a noise behind me. I turn my head to Corentin, whose gaze is fixed on me. I sense an event is about to occur.
The universe bursts into a thousand stars when his laughter resounds. Corentin, the same man with whom I”ve shared moments of friendship and complicity for a year, suddenly seems to transform. A brilliance, an intense energy, courses through him as if he had been connected to an electric source. His laughter radiates from within, creating a luminous aura enveloping me. It”s as if strings of Christmas lights start dancing around him. Each note of this laughter is a musical note touching my soul, vibrating with electrifying intensity.
This moment is magical, almost unreal. Corentin, with his enchanting smile perfectly matching the curve of his lips, reveals perfect teeth and dimples dancing joyfully on his face. It”s a revelation, a beauty I had not truly noticed before. This smile is a hidden treasure, a dazzling manifestation of the joy lying dormant in him.
I wonder why he kept this wonder to himself, why he didn”t share this light with the world. It”s as if, in this moment, the Earth created a unique wonder, a shining star in the midst of darkness. I am both amazed and frustrated I didn”t discover this earlier. I would like to hold him close, seal this precious moment with a kiss, mark his skin with my lips.
Each burst of laughter is a gift, an invaluable treasure. Erupting from him with such force, such energy, like an endless source, this laughter, hoarse and joyful, is a powerful drug for me. It resonates within me, filling each corner of my being, sweeping away all my weaknesses and doubts. I feel alive, energized, carried away by this melody making me vibrate. I realize I could no longer do without these bursts of laughter; it has become a necessity for me. This should be the sound of my wake-up, the melody of my phone, the note accompanying me throughout the day. Nothing can surpass this sound.
Hearing Corentin”s laughter makes me realize the extent to which the sound brightens my existence. I can”t look away, soaking in every detail of this moment. The harmony of the notes resonates in my heart, leaving a lasting impression. And when his laughter fades, I”ll feel a sense of emptiness. My world will grow dim.
My heart races in response to the cadence of his laughter. In that precise moment, his joy-brimming eyes lock onto mine. I notice a sparkle, a suggestion of a nascent tear, and this sight deeply affects my soul. Gradually, I release my hold around Edward”s neck, and Corentin erupts into an even more vibrant laughter. This laughter, genuine, potent, and liberating, resonates within me like a captivating symphony. It echoes through my entire being, animating my nerves, emotions, and any fiber of my existence. I submerge myself in this melody, letting my thoughts and concerns fade away in this joyful radiance. At this moment, I desire to freeze time, preserving this precious experience for eternity.
As Corentin”s laughter continues, I feel as if I am at the center of the universe, bathed in this inner light emanating from him. Each burst nourishes me, revitalizes me, makes me feel alive in a way I hadn”t experienced before. I realize not only is it his laughter, but he electrifies me, inspires me. It is here, at this moment, I become aware of the effect he has on me. This laughter is a promise, a glimmer of hope in the darkness, a compass guiding me toward a new adventure. And I know even when this moment ends, I will treasure it within me, like a shining star in the sky of my memories.
“Florence,” he gasps, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “It”s quite tempting but refrain from assassinating my father. How am I going to defend you if you succeed?”
Now it”s the father who starts laughing.
“Go ahead, Florence, I”m sure he”ll manage to keep you out of prison.”
The three of us laugh, and Corentin hands me a sandwich and a glass of juice. Once I finish, he carries me in his arms to his room. He gently lays me on the bed, and I bury my fingers in his curly hair. My index finger grazes his face, sliding over his stubble and the dimples I had glimpsed. He shivers under my touch, burying his head in my hand.
“How are you?” he asks in a soft voice.
“I”m okay, well, as okay as can be. And you?”
I return his gaze, surprised. He observes me attentively, evidently taken aback.
“It”s not me who”s sick,” he clarifies gently.
“Maybe, but I know it can”t be easy for you when you”re with your father.”
Corentin doesn”t verbally respond, but he embraces me, tucks me under his blanket, and helps me nestle against the pillows. A few days ago, he seemed hesitant when our bodies got closer, but now his hands move on my skin without any hesitation. It makes me smile.
“Corentin.”
“Florence?”
“Did you help me undress?”
“No, Manille did.”
I nod mischievously and ask him what happened after I fainted. I have fragments of memories, but nothing particularly clear. Corentin explains despite Manille”s pleas, I refused to go to the emergency room. I don”t want to burden public services, especially in this difficult time. Corentin came to pick me up to take me back to his apartment, while Manille, after helping me undress, had to go to work. She keeps going, but with everything she wants to accomplish, it”s hardly surprising.
“Are your father and you the only redheads in your family? I ask, without much thought. “Which ancestor does it come from?”
As he briefly averts his gaze to hide his smile, I place my hand on his cheek.
“No need to hide it. I saw it. You”re so handsome when you smile.”
My God, I”ll never get over it.
“Okay,” he admits, visibly embarrassed. “It seems we”re the only ones. Why, does it bother you?”
“No, I love it. It”s surprising how much you resemble your father, except for the eye color. You surprise me all the time, like when you kissed me. You caught me off guard.”
He freezes, eyebrows furrowed. To lighten the mood, I lift my legs to tuck the blanket under my heels. Corentin regains composure.
“And what did you think?” he asks, focusing his attention on me.
“It was hot. I”ve not experienced a kiss like it.”
His breath becomes shorter, while my cheeks turn red. I prefer not to reveal to him I masturbated thinking about him. Some things are meant to stay secret.
“Good to know.”
“Then you acted like it was nothing, and I thought you weren”t taking it seriously, being foolish.”
“Great,” he retorts, sitting down, visibly embarrassed. “Apparently, my technique is a bit rusty. I”m sorry.”
I shrug. “It”s in the past now, and it”s not going to happen again anyway.”
My voice tightens at these words. Our friendship means too much to me, and I don”t want to entertain the possibility of losing it. Things are fine as they are, at least I hope so.
A silence settles. Eventually, Corentin changes the subject.
“How”s your mother? Do you plan to visit her in Toulouse?”
I sigh. “She”s coming back here. I can”t go back there.”
“Why can”t you go?”
“I haven”t set foot at home since I came here. For Christmas, we were each in our own corner because Cécile needed me for a last-minute order. After that, I went back alone to the apartment.”
He frowns. “Why didn”t you tell me? We could have spent Christmas together.”
“What”s the point? I chose not to join her. She sent me a big package a few days later, filled with candy, photos, and chocolates. I could have gone back once Cécile didn”t need me anymore, but I preferred to eat yule log while opening my Christmas presents alone, sitting on the floor in front of the TV. Charming, isn”t it?”
“Why didn”t you ask her to see you?”
I don”t want to think about the moment, or I might burst into tears and won”t be able to stop. My mother, elbows on her knees, tears streaming down her face. She was so sad when I left, and I found an excuse to stay in Paris.
“Because I don”t feel worthy yet. I”m still not convinced she made the right choice in choosing me.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
“My mother had to give up everything.”
“Why?”
“For me. Before, everything was fine. My parents loved each other and loved me. I have memories of a happy childhood, at least until I was eight. My father was my hero. He was strong, powerful and there for me when I needed him. He was a truck driver, and in the summer, he would take me with him on some deliveries. It was incredible!”
I pause, my lip trembling. His memories hurt me because they remind me of a bygone era.
“My father lost his job, and he became a shadow of himself. But in my eyes, he remained a good person. My mother should have chosen him.”
“Do you think she made the wrong choice?”
I nod, not having the strength to say it.
“You should talk to your mother about it. I”m sure she doesn”t regret choosing you. It”s evident she loves you. You are the center of her universe.”
As he speaks those words, his expression softens, his eyes reflecting a gentle sincerity that touches me deeply. A sense of innocence and purity seems to radiate from him, casting a soft glow around his features. A surge of emotion overwhelms me, stirring unexpected feelings. Unable to contain my tears, I keep my eyes closed, feeling his hand tighten around mine, offering silent comfort and support. Unable to hold it in any longer, I finally speak, sharing what”s been weighing on my heart.
“It all started when he lost his job. He hated me, I was a burden causing him to accumulate bills. Whenever my mother left us alone, he would come and tell me I was ruining his life. I was a mistake and causing him problems for no reason. He would lock me in a room so he wouldn”t have to see me. I was in the darkness, in a closet, and I had to make no noise, or he would have thrown me out on the street. My panic attacks started, and that”s why I hate being in the dark. My mother knew nothing about all this, I didn”t want her to hate me too. He didn”t hit me, but he made it clear I was a burden. The first few months, it was the same story. As soon as my mother left, he would lock me in the closet, force me to be quiet, and before she came back, he would become the man she thought she knew.
I kept all of this inside because I hated myself. I didn”t want to talk to anyone. He poured everything on me, and I believed him.”
“My tulip, I”m so sorry. Your father is trash; there”s no doubt about it. He manipulated your mind to hide his failures and put everything on your shoulders. In no way are you responsible.”
He runs his fingers over my face to wipe away the tears, then he kisses my cheeks, making me shiver.
“One day, I heard him tell my mother he wanted to get rid of me. They could have a better life without me messing everything up. My mother was the love of his life. I was an unplanned mistake. That day, my mother sent me to élise”s for a few days. It was a huge shock. I felt so bad and abandoned by my parents. I was sure she had chosen him. But no, and now I wonder if she made the right choice.”
My fears, my anxiety attacks, my constant guilt, all of this comes from one person.
“Have you talked to your mother about it?”
I laugh bitterly. “No, but you can do it for me. I”ll give you the address. Take some flowers to give to the woman sitting on her balcony, a beer in hand, who proudly declares her daughter is her pride. You can tell her you come on my behalf, but in return, she”ll want you to give her news of me. Tell her how I”m doing, if I feel lonely, if I eat properly, why I don”t find time to come home a bit, and why I don”t systematically answer her calls. Why am I distancing myself from her?”
I”m overcome by dizziness and overwhelming fatigue. All I want now is to fall asleep, let myself go into a deep sleep where all this anxiety and sadness can”t follow me. I start to feel myself slipping away slowly when?—
“What should I tell her?” Corentin asks me.
I sigh. “I”m afraid. I”m not up to the woman she is and her love. I blame myself. I don”t know if the hopes she placed in me are deserved. Feeling alone and pathetic, I cry once everyone else is asleep. I lost my father. The love of her life hated me, and I”m the reason he left. I have friends I don”t deserve. I spend my time with a man far above my class, who should have someone better in his life, but I can”t let him go because it would kill me. All of this is eating me up from the inside.”
His mouth touches the tip of my nose.
“Each moment shared with you creates a joyful symphony, and in your company, I experience the most beautiful of stories.”
His warm breath caresses me, and his lips land at the corner of mine. His fingers entwine with mine, and I tighten my fist. He positions himself above me, applying gentle pressure. His head nestles against my neck, and he kisses me.
“You”re my favorite person, Florence. I”ll not let you slip away from my life. Your presence is intertwined with the essence of my soul.”
We stay cuddled against each other. His breath tickles my neck, causing delicate shivers. My head still hurts, and I feel sleep slowly invading me. He kisses me one last time on the neck before withdrawing. I”m too tired to try to hold him back. He walks away but leaves the door slightly ajar, so I don”t stay in the dark. I thank him inwardly. Even as my mind fades away gradually, I hear Corentin talking to his father:
“This is the one Jackie told me about.”
“Yes.”
“I can see she”s adorable. You seem to genuinely enjoy her company. You seem happier, it”s the first time I”ve seen you like this.”
“Everything needs a first time.”
“Your mother would have been pleased.”
“Don”t talk about her.”
There”s silence.
“You should invite her to dinner. Let her see everyone a bit.”
“She”s already seen the people who matter. You”re busy, so why are you suggesting something to me?”
I hear Edward sigh heavily. “Why are you on the defensive?” Not getting an answer, he adds. “Besides that, are you planning to give your answer to Clara?”
“I was going to,” Corentin asserts, but the tone in his voice makes me understand he”s lying. “I”m waiting to see her.”
“Well, you might as well tell me now,” Edward says, obviously annoyed. “And I”ll tell her. I know about Jackie giving you the invitation card so you wouldn”t lose it, like you did for your sister”s engagement. What”s your excuse for not coming, by the way?”
“It was Florence”s birthday.”
I am touched, but Edward, evidently irritated, replies. “Family is important, Corentin.”
“You”re not in a position to say family comes first.”
Edward sighs again. The patriarch begins to raise his voice, but Corentin tells him I”m sleeping, and he has to lower it by one or two octaves. From now on, I only hear whispers, but I feel they are arguing. While cursing myself internally, I quietly get out of bed and approach the door, being careful to keep my feet away from the light beam.
“I know you have a deal with Clara. She did what you asked, now it”s your turn to take a step toward her. The only thing I ask is for you to come to your sister”s wedding, Edward says in an irritated tone. It would make her happy, as well as Naisha and Jackie. I would be happy to see you too.”
“Okay,” Corentin finally sighs, giving up the struggle. “Anyway, I”m not going to leave Florence alone.”
“Do I count you with a guest? Florence will be with you, right?”
“I doubt she”d want to be my guest.”
I want to tell him I would. I”ll go where he goes. I hope we”ll be this close; forever and ever.
But instead, I settle back into bed and quickly fall asleep.