XLIV

They arrived in the room, in silence, the woman threw herself on the bed with the full bottle of rum in her hand, looked at the boy and tapped the seat next to his side to invite him to join her. Adrien executed.

<< How do you even a war? >> She asked uncorking the bottle.

Both were lying with their legs on the mattress but their backs were straight and leaned against the wall.

<< You don't even a war, you lose by staying alive, with the winner giving you the grace, in his stupid opinion, to consider yourself lucky.>> He took the bottle from his friend's hands and drank its content.

<< Would you have wanted to be a dead loser? >> She looked at him raising her eyebrows.

<> He took another sip before handing the bottle to the woman.

<< Isn't being free a victory? >> She asked curiously before drinking.

<< Free? I can't even stay in Paris>> She smiled bitterly.

<< And where will you go? >>

<< Nowhere. I won't accept the tie.>> He took a sip longer than the others.

<> She asked again.

<> He shrugged.

They remained silent for many seconds. The only sound was the emptying of the bottle and the popping of his wet lips from the glass.

Agnés had noticed that, the whole time, Adrien had held in a fist the hand with the strange yellow ornament and had been staring at it all the time. He looked away from it only to drink.

<< A war is not a war if you don't invest everything, if you don't sacrifice your whole self. If you feel you still have something to give, if you still have your life left, if it really ended with a grace, it couldn't have been the end of the war, maybe it was just a battle. >> Said Agnés in a thoughtful whisper.

<< It would be nice to think so. If my enemy were different...>>

His enemy, who was his enemy? Atoinette, perhaps? Or had she just been the bargaining chip?

<< An enemy is an enemy. A person, a feeling that needs to be put down, not something you have to accept in order to live better. Are you aware of your enemy? >>

Adrien was taken aback by that question and by the woman's resolution.

An enemy was something that had to be defeated...not accepted.

So the love he felt wasn't the enemy, the pain wasn't the enemy, the regret, the remorse, the sense of emptiness and loss...no, those were emotions that had to be accepted and put aside, they weren't wars to be waged, there was no point in wasting time and energy on them, he would have always lost, it would have been like punching the wind. Useless.

The enemy wasn't even Antoinette or her sacrifice.

The enemy was him, his surrender, his fear of taking another risk, of thinking of himself before others. The enemy was the voice that repeated in his ear that no one like him could do more than that.

The enemy was the part of himself that had thought about Provence.

The enemy was Luka, but not the fact that he existed, the fact that his existence bothered him so much. He couldn't accept him at his woman's side.

He couldn't accept the fact that he would place heirs in her womb.

He couldn't accept going away and leaving her alone in a cold, loveless place.

The ribbon burned brighter and brighter.

He couldn't accept those conditions.

And it was absurd that it had been Agnés herself who had made it happen.

Everything that could not be accepted had to be defeated.

And how do you defeat a fear? How do you beat a bitter awareness that grips your throat? How do you win over a feeling?

By facing it head on. Throwing your chest out and crashing into it until you almost lose hope and then trying again.

That was the point of rising.

No, he would never have accepted those conditions.

<< If we had always talked more than fucked maybe I would have made better decisions in my life.>> He said shaking his head and with a veil of liveliness.

<< Yes, but how many beautiful things we would have missed.>> She laughed, stopping drinking to avoid choking.

She was right, but they would never compare to the way she felt about her princess.

Only once had he wavered and he still had to ask for an explanation.

<< Can you explain how you were able to be in the same bed with Coline? How did you get together? >> He looked at her raising an eyebrow and taking the bottle from her hand.

<< It's a good story. She came looking for me and asked me, she said she would help you, that you had been tense for days and that you would be pleased. She only meant well. You don't know how embarrassed she was, poor thing.>> She said amused.

<< And I treated her like shit.>> Adrien sighed, losing the smile he was, with difficulty, trying to regain.

<< Well, no, you weren't very elegant.>> Agnés also became serious, recognizing his sincere displeasure.

<< Not even with you though, Agnés. I'm really very sorry. About everything, really. I've always used you, without ever asking you if...>>

<< Stop, stop, stop. Adrien, don't you dare.>> She put her open palm in front of his face to block him. <> She removed the gesture that covered her view of the boy's face. << I don't know how things were between you and blondie, but don't ever say the word "use" if you're referring to our relationship. It is not "using" if both parties are aware and consenting to what you are and what you are doing. You would belittle me terribly and also belittle what binds us and who we are or have been. I have never been used by you, you don't have to apologize.>> He finished his speech and took back the bottle.

Adrien seemed to realize now how much, in reality, Agnés was better than what he expected. It was true, theirs was a relationship based on trust and friendship, there was affection, there was attraction, together they made sparks, but maybe it was because they were able to be free and sincere with each other, maybe it was because of their being so complicit even without love.

Antoinette on the other hand...

God, but why did he always have her in mind!

He had to stop bringing her back into any thought or discussion.

In thoughts tarnished by rum she was the name written on it, as if it were on glass. He felt like smiling about the situation with Agnés but inside he still felt lost, so he drank some more, maybe he would feel better.

He also thought that he should have gone back to the others, but now he didn't really feel like it, he knew what he had to tell them and what to ask, he knew that he would have found the real answer only there with them, but after all he had let himself be fucked by the situations and these bad days.

Crooked... maybe crooked days was an understatement.

He lived in balance between what was right and what was not, between his uncertainties and between the hatred he wanted to feel and the knowledge that he could not live without.

<< Who are you? >> Agnés asked seriously, tired of seeing him always lost looking at that strange bandage.

Adrien looked at her surprised distracting himself from the object, finally, but then he let go with his head against the wall. He began to stare at the ceiling.

<< My guardian angel.>> He answered.

<< The famous angel?>> The woman referred to the conversation at the counter.

<< Yeah, the one who got me a pardon.>> He sighed again.

<< He must have loved you very much.>>

Was it that easy to understand?

<> He found himself saying, perhaps more to himself.

<< And she told you to leave? >>

<< No, I mean yes...I can live but they don't have to see me around anymore apparently.>>

<< It makes sense.>> Agnés reflected.

<< Are you in on this, too? >> He drank, impatiently.

<< Out of sight...>>

<< She'll never stay out of my heart and I know I'll never leave hers.>> He interrupted her.

<< Anything can happen in life...look at us! We're on a bed, tipsy, chatting about your lost love.>>

<> He shook his head smiling.

The more he talked about it, the more he felt like it was something long lost. Why?

More importantly, why had it been so easy for her to "sell out"? He would never have accepted...

She felt icy at the thought that yes, to save her life, he would accept anything. Maybe he could understand her.

But that couldn't be the only solution. Die guillotined or die inside.

He drank again. Agnés had lit a cigarette and, sensual even without meaning to, inhaled the thick smoke.

<< Will you ever forgive yourself? >> She asked out of the blue.

<< What? >>

<< Of losing her.>> She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

He thought about it for a few seconds.

>> No.

<< Not even if I knelt at my own feet.>> He answered.

<< Then why are we still talking about it? How can you live a life if you spend it asking for forgiveness that you won't give yourself?>>

<< It's more complicated than that. She has another man, parents...she has to marry him.>>

<< Adrien, I don't recognize you anymore. Whatever I wanted you used to take it. Now? Have you become a gutless man? >> I mocked him.

<> He said, now almost completely nervous.

<< "Do you hear yourself? "I can't." When did you ever say that? What is it that you can't do? At least try! >> She gave him a shoulder bump and took the bottle from his mouth.

<< Never mind, you can't understand.>>.

<> He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

<< I'm not afraid.>> He retorted resentfully.

<< Oh yes you are, you're shitting yourself! You're afraid of rejection.

<< I'm sure I'll be rejected, that's why I'm not wasting my time.>>

He was getting impatient. What could she possibly know about this? And how could he explain everything to her if he couldn't tell her his woman who she was?

Agnés realized she had to let go of the conversation. It wouldn't solve anything, now she just wanted to keep him quiet. He deserved it.

No, no sex, she wanted her friend to show respect for the feelings that were pining for him like this, she didn't want to see him hide and pretend anymore, she didn't want to help him run away from his problems.

They had grown, they had improved. Now they would experience emotions fully and truly. Without any fear.

<< Will you go back to the orphanage? >> She asked, putting out his cigarette against the silver saucer.

<< Tomorrow. Will you come with me?>> He looked at her kindly, grateful for the change of subject.

<< It can be done.>>

They talked for some more time, maybe for hours, she tried to cheer him up by telling him about the strange vicissitudes of the job and he listened, trying not to be distracted each time by something that could bring him back to Antoinette.

They also talked about the days of detention, the torture to make him talk and the beatings, he also talked about the man at his side that he had discovered was his father, he told her about his mother and that, finally, he knew what had happened to his parents.

They talked for hours, then they fell asleep, Agnés held him to her chest, like a mother holds her son to protect him from nightmares, he sometimes gasped, bellowed and trembled, but he never let go of her grip on his dress.

The empty bottle on the floor beside the bed.

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