In my place

Perhaps she didn't really me to go, either, for she eventually asked:

— “You said your flight was at 7, right ?”

— “Mmm, 6.56 I think”

She rolled her eyes and I wondered, once more, what had popped in that busy brain of hers.

— “What ?”

— “Don’t you ever wonder why they set up such precise hours when you know that they never take off on time ?”

My analytical mind kicked in and I chuckled.

— “You have a point”

Her face turned serious as she gazed at me.

— “I can offer you a cup of tea at home. I live ten minutes from the airport, I can drive you by 6. I mean, if you don’t have other plans”

— “Dragging me home again, lady Frances ?”, was my playful retort.

In reality, I didn’t want her to see how flustered the idea made me feel. The little woman poked me in the ribs, her attempt falling flat because of the multiple layers I was wearing.

— “You did drag yourself the first time, sir Tristan.”

Her jab took me aback, and I realised that she was right. Yes, I had been more than willing to have lunch at her parent’s place two years ago. And I have to admit that I wanted to see how and where she lived now that she had left her home country. Just to make sure she was properly settled… Not that I could do anything about it anyway.

— “If you don’t mind, I think I would enjoy something warm. My fingers are numb”

— “So is my nose. Let’s go, I’m parked below the Radisson”

After a quick peek at her reddened appendage – a little cute nose she had – Frances led me to her car below the famed hotel. It didn’t differ much from the bettle like vehicle we had used in France. It was still small, rounded, but very very blue.

— “Four wheel drive”, she said. “For my winter urges to get lost in the fjords”

I only nodded; she was quite wild, this little lady. Then she took the wheel, and I noted how her confidence had grown in the past years. Frances drove like a French; fluid and neat trajectories, but such purpose. Had I not travelled around the world and met plenty of different driving styles, I might have been afraid. But overall, she mastered it rather skillfully. The last road we took – after fifteen minutes on a main two lane - was a very small one that led to the sea. There stood the building that housed her apartment, an old factory recently converted into housing. We parked a few meters from the pier, the last hues of the day sinking into the bay. As she walked up to the door, Frances gave me a few minutes to take in the view. In the silence of the setting night, lights reflecting upon the still fjord, I understood what she meant.

This was a very soothing place. Just like her oak tree.

When she appeared beside me, I instinctively popped my elbow out. She took it without a second thought, the familiarity of this gesture strangely… normal. We watched the last rays of light sink beneath the sea, hidden under a scarf and a beanie. There were no words needed; we both were exactly where we were meant to be. Or so I thought… until I remembered that she probably wished her boyfriend was here. Shaking the thought off, I turned to her with a wistful look.

— “So, about that tea ?”

She smiled, but said nothing, still lost in the eeriness of the moment. Ok. So maybe she wasn’t moping about her boyfriend’s absence. Four flights of stairs later, I passed the threshold of her little flat. A strange thought hit me there. Would I ever do that again ? Frances paused, watching me intently. She had guessed, at once, that something was occurring in my brain. Perhaps a change in posture, perhaps in the expression of my eyes. I didn’t know how she did it, and didn’t ask. It was, somehow, part of her magic. A little fairy.

While she made tea; a proper drink, rinsed and brewed in a japanese teapot, I took some time to study the little, but neat appartement that housed this little fairy. The kitchen was well equipped, connected to a small and tidy living room. French doors led to a balcony that overlooked the sea, the light reflecting on a very light parquet floor.

Frances gestured to the sofa, then poured two cups of warm tea. Settling my fingers around the cup, I sighed in delight.

— “Did you want to eat something before your flight ?”, she asked.

— “No, don’t bother. I’ll feed myself at the airport”

— “Are you sure ?”

A concerned gleam shone in her eyes, and I had to struggle not to find her urge to nourish me absolutely adorable.

— “Yes. We’ve got barely an hour before I have to go. I’d be glad to spend it sitting rather than cooking”

And so we talked, and talked some more, until the treacherous time showed 5.35 and Frances urged me out. The drive was a short one, and I couldn’t help but think how comfortable things were when you had someone to take care of you. I blocked the heavy sigh before it passed my lips. I used to have someone to do it, but those times were gone. Now started a new life where I had to fend for myself. And I was strong enough to handle it. Who needed a wife when you had a life, right ?

Despite my sadness, I was glad to see that Frances fended for herself brilliantly. She was at ease here, nearly at home. And when she pulled off in the minute parking, I couldn’t help but give her a long hug. Then I turned away and made my way into the airport. The little blue car stayed until I passed the doors.

When my flight landed, the first message that hit my mobile was hers.

‘Thank you for coming. I had a wonderful day’

I couldn’t help but tease back.

‘I’m glad the pleasure wasn’t all mine’

This day had brought me a new partner in crime – if only for a movie – a friend, perhaps, and very fond memories. Another parenthesis in my life, populated by a little fairy.