I'll be back

An hour or so later, hot chocolate and cereals discarded, Frances contemplated the great weather with a sigh. Today's schedule consisted of botanic – ugh ! – in the morning, and revisions about Kepler's laws in the afternoon. What a yummy past time. So when her mother called for lunch, she was too eager to share the noon meal with her parents before getting back to frying her brain. And since the sun had decided to taunt her – it was such a perfect day, it reminded her of Mark Knoplfer's Shangri-la song – Frances gathered her physics book and climbed into the cherry tree. Up and up she went to the very last branch; an old friend who had brought her luck in the past. This is where she had worked most of her maths lessons before the Baccalauréat. The results were up to par. Perhaps, this time, she would get lucky once more.

So she was dead to the world for two more hours until her back ached – the cherry tree version of a sofa could be a little uncomfortable – and her mind blurred. What better place to learn about planets and their gravitational field ? She felt so free, up there above the roof of her house, that it was worth every single ache.

— "So you are living in trees"

Frances started; the book fell from her hands and plummeted below. In its wake, the four leaves clover that she used as a bookmark went flying in the wind.

— "Shit !", she exclaimed, launching herself forward to grab the theory of physics.

Too late. The noise of a page tearing reached her ear, followed by a loud thud that indicated the stupid book had reached the ground. Her good luck charm disappeared from view, lost. As if she wouldn't need it anymore. And she, in a precarious equilibrium in between branches, could only gape as she caught a pair of familiar eyes. Her mind screamed in glee, then in fear.

He was here.

Mr Kristiansen, in her parent's garden, standing tall in the glorious afternoon sun, the light creating a halo in his blondish hair. And his eyes, so warm, so full of life, laden with feelings she couldn't name. Hands in his pocket in a pose that was anything but casual.

There it was; all the luck in the world gathered into a gorgeous man. The reason why his good luck token – the four leaves clover - had flown away in the wind. He was back.

Frances couldn't move, safely hidden on top of the world. What if she came down, and he wanted to say goodbye forever ? What if he wanted to ensure she wouldn't talk ? What if… ?

— "Are you coming down, or shall I come up ?"

How she had missed this smooth, caressing voice. It could have soothed any ache, and was her undoing. And since she couldn't find an appropriate response, Mr Kristiansen pulled his sleeves with a purposeful move. Then he reached for the lower branch and hoisted himself up upon the trunk. Frances' eyes widened, watching the muscles of his exposed forearms flex as he continued his unhindered ascent. She had not expected him to tackle the task so easily, and once he came level with her, she realised she was trapped.

— "Stop!", she warned.

The former teacher froze, his head lifting with an interrogative frown.

— "That branch can't hold us both, I'll join you at the junction"

Her explanation seemed to lift the cloud that had settled upon his brow, and she took careful steps to manoeuvre her way around him. Her body, only clad in leggings and a tight t-shirt, flexed and twisted so close that she could feel his cologne. Mmm. Such a great memory. At last, she could settle precariously upon a smaller branch while he sat in front, on the other side of a secondary trunk. They both stared at each other for a long time, reacquainting themselves with the person they had known months ago. She watched his full lips, his kind smile and the small crease at the corner of his eye. He looked… better. Tired, but more grounded. As if he had tackled a great task and emerged victorious. The wind played with his mid-long hair, blowing it in his face until he decided to tuck it behind his ear. In vain.

What did he see, when he watched her ? The same student, too young and inexperienced ? A lovesick fool ? Or just a child ?

Four months of acquaintance, four months of separation. Four blissful ones. Four miserable ones.

The tension was rising in her heart; if he was here to say goodbye once and for all, let it be done.

— "Why are you here, Mr Kristiansen ?"

— "Tristan, please. I am no longer your teacher"

Frances pursed her lips, hoping he didn't mistook her silence for anger. In truth, she was terrified. The man beside her couldn't meet her gaze, his stormy eyes fixed upon the leaves that danced in the wind.

— "I came to apologize. I didn't show you the respect you deserved"

Frances' heart plummeted at once; he wasn't here to reprimand or demand, but an apology meant goodbye just as well. A mea culpa before he came back to his wife… Her eyes landed on his left hand, looking for the dreaded ring… finding nothing. Her breath caught in her throat, her hands tightening upon the branch. It was now or never; if she didn't tell him how badly she wanted him, he would never know and walk away from her life. So just like she had done so many months ago, Frances grabbed his free hand and caught his gaze.

— "This was the best moment of my life."

It was his turn to be struck speechless, and his eyes didn't leave hers as he dropped a bomb at her feet.

— "I filed for divorce."

Sadness and guilt mingled in her mind. And she struggled very, very hard to repress the immense wave of relief that wanted to surface in its stead. She was responsible for this man's divorce, for God's sake !

— "I am sorry, it's my fault."

— "No !", he exclaimed. "Nothing is your fault. I didn't love her anymore"

After Hiroshima, Nagasaki landed, shaking her core from head to toe. And slowly, very slowly, hope started to bloom in her heart. That perhaps, if Tristan had come to her, even drunk… it meant something.

— "Oh. I… uh. All right"

She had not realised she was still holding his hand until his fingers shifted, intertwining with hers in a significant caress.

— "You opened my eyes, Frances", he whispered, shifting his balance to face her.

Her chest heaved, it nearly hurt to breathe. Hopes and fears mingled, the significance of his admittance weighing heavily upon her heart. His fingers gently caressed hers and they both fixed their gaze upon their intertwined hands. Wondering, maybe, where that left them. Frances laid her head upon the trunk.

— "So what now ?", she whispered.

Words that flew into the wind, spoken so low that she wondered if he had heard her. And when his head popped from the other side, searching her gaze, she knew he had.

— "Perhaps…", he started.

Then stopped, his tongue darting over his upper lip. Yet, his eyes didn't leave hers, and she respected him for that. To have the guts to face her after what had transpired between them.

— "Perhaps, if you are willing. You could give us a chance ?"

It took her a second too much to understand what he meant. And when it eventually dawned, her heart leapt with joy. He wanted her ! He wanted to be with her, wanted to give it a shot despite their age difference. Despite their awkward debuts, and the fact that she was a student. But this man, this incredible person chose to overlook all those limits and throw them to the wolves. Barriers to be fed upon as they escaped.

Joy flooded her chest; it felt incredible, to be trusted and wanted like this. The significance of his presence here, in her cherry tree, would be embedded in her memory until the day she died. A full smile bloomed upon her face, and she saw, at once, how his eyes brightened. Frances took a peek in the garden, checking if anyone was watching before she shifted from her branch, and reached for his face.

What a better answer than to taste his beautiful lips once more ? Tristan obliged with a sigh, as if he had longed for it just as much. And while she perched herself on tiptoes, his arm snaked around her waist to secure her. His tongue swiped at her lips; she parted them eagerly. He tasted like heaven, devoid of alcohol this time, so delicious. His arm tightened in a possessive gesture as he kissed her senseless. Her only regret; his other hand still gripped the tree trunk to keep him afloat, depriving her of his touch.