A clean cut

Breakfast the next morning was surrealist; we shared it like an old married couple. I couldn’t shake from my head the vision that had greeted me this morning; my little fairy, curled in a ball under the rumpled sheets, snuggled against me in bed. I had slept half dressed, she as well. But the sun falling upon her face, loose stands of reddish hair spread upon the immaculate sheets… Her long lashes drawing crescents across her cheeks as she slept, her even breath tickling the skin of my neck, her faint scent mingling with mine.

I was overjoyed. Frances had not pronounced the word ‘love’ yet, but her acceptance of my feelings had gone much smoother than I expected. Oh, I knew she was fond of me in the first place, but love ? I wasn’t even dreaming of it. Yet, it had been plain as day. Bruno was right, it was written all over her face whenever she looked my way. It was embedded in her touch whenever she reached for me. Familiar, and gentle, caressing and coaxing. Yes.

My only worries, at the time, was the fear and sadness hidden in her gaze. There was joy as well, and hope for our blooming relationship. But the task of the day frightened her, and I could relate. Today, she would have to face a man she had cared for eight years. I knew how she hated to inflict pain, how she still cared for him anyway. I could understand it, I would have some affection for my ex wife until the day I died. It simply was embedded in our souls. Unfortunately, I had two last scenes to shoot today; I couldn’t take her home. We had decided to let Stéphane come up, even if it seemed unfair. Better that than a phonecall.

Freedom was at hand, and no matter the hardships that came between now and then, it would be worth it. Seeing Frances’ delighted hum as she bit into a piece of homemade brioche and jam, I could only smile. She was so adorable, so beautiful, so tender. I loved her with all my heart. I couldn’t wait to do the millions things I had imagined for us. Hiking, swimming, talking, dining out, dragging her around the world, meeting my children. Damn… my children, how were they going to react ?

The way wasn’t paved for us. We would have to carve it. Would we both be strong enough ?

A look at her twinkling chocolate eyes reassured me. Frances was shy, but didn’t lack strength. If she wanted it, we could do it. But did she want it ?

The first ordeal came today, and I had to admit that it filled my limbs with restless energy. Still, having her by my side as we trailed along the set, our complicity fully returned even if we were careful to hide our blossoming relationship, felt like a present from the heavens. I wasn’t religious, but to keep her by my side, I was quite ready to convert. Luckily, Frances was a fervent atheist or I might have ended a Buddhist, a zoroastrist, or an animist. Perhaps I was a lovesick fool after all…

The afternoon scene was proving rather frustrating; the horse felt my nervousness about what was to come, and I had trouble keeping him in check. Even though I’d struck a friendship with the tall black beast, he certainly didn’t make my day easier. Eventually, we managed to box the last reshoot of the last scene and people went about to wrap the set. I was glad Pierre-Jean had abandoned the idea to shoot my death again, because I didn’t want Frances to witness that one. It had been bad enough I had to see hers. A quick glance at my phone told me Stéphane should be about to show up, so I hurried to the costumery to shed my horse smelling coat. The dark wool was chaffed by many days riding, and I took a moment to consider the finery of the garment. Another of Frances’ habits rubbing off on me…

As I walked around the corner, raised voices send knots to my stomach. Stéphane was there, and he certainly could be vocal.

— “Te te fous de moi ? J’allais prendre un billet de ferry pour te rejoindre !(Are you fucking kidding ? I was ready to book a ferry to join you.)”

I cringed at the anger contained in his voice, but couldn’t help but feel relieved. Had I waited a little more, Stéphane would have moved in with Frances and I might have lost the opportunity altogether. My little lady held her ground, her voice raising as well now.

— “Maintenant ? Vraiment ? Ca fait des années que j’attends, Stéphane. Ca nous a achevés. Et ta boîte ? (Now ? of all times ? I’ve waited for one for years, Stéphane, it killed whatever we had. And what about the company ?)”

Stéphane mumbled something that I couldn’t hear; I didn’t dare showing myself. I guess he got bankrupted, because Frances lost it then. Funny, how she had never raised her voice to me, even when pissed. She certainly could be impressive in her anger, I’d have to keep myself in check not to rile her up.

— “Attends… Tu as perdu tout son argent, et ça ne t’es pas venu à l’idée de me le dire ? Tu savais que tu allais te planter et tu l’as laissé investir ? (Wait... You lost all of his money and didn’t think to tell me ? You knew it was a hopeless cause and you let him invest still ?)”

— “Quoi, c’est pas comme s’il pouvait pas se le permettre, non ? (What, it’s not like he can’t afford it)”, was the icy retort.

Fool ! The little respect I had for the man fled through the window, although I wondered if he suspected something. Funny how people assumed that, as an actor, you could throw money away like it didn’t matter. I was glad Frances didn’t see me like this; a purse to be disposed off. I took a few steps forward, worried as heated words were exchanged in low voices.

— “… tes dettes. Tu peux repartir de zero maintenant. (… debts now. You can start afresh.)” Was Frances’ plea.

I could hear the pain as she attempted to set him free, knowing he would suffer from it but unable – and unwilling – to play this part anymore. The martyr was breaking its chains; I was so proud of her.

— “Allez, donne-nous une chance. Je te rejoins en Norvège, on se marie et on pourra fonder une famille. (Come on, give us a chance. I’ll join you in Norway, we can marry and start a family there).”

Damn, Stéphane was displaying all his charm and I wondered how Frances would be able to resist. It was, after all, what she had been waiting for years. My breath caught at the silence that followed. Hesitation ?

— “Ecoute… (Listen…)”

Damn, she was going to cave in. I bit my lip, and forced myself to remain hidden. This was her choice, her fucking choice. I couldn’t interfere.

— “Steph… C’est trop tard. Je n’ai plus confiance. Je sais que je ne serai jamais ta priorité, ni les enfants. Je veux autre chose comme vie, quelque chose qui ne tourne pas autour de tes ambitions et obligations. (It’s too late. My trust in you is gone. I know I’ll never be your priority, nor the children. I want another life, one that doesn’t revolve around your ambitions and obligations. I’m sorry)”

— “Alors tu me lourdes ? (So you’re laying me off ?)”

Disbelief, from him. Silence, from her. I wondered if she wasn’t crying. I should have left, and several crew members gave me a weird look as I stubbornly remained by the corner of the building.

— “Oui. Oui, je crois qu’il est temps que nos chemins se séparent. (Yes. Yes, I think it’s time we go separate ways)”

Nothing could have matched the relief I felt in this very moment. Frances’ voice was stern, if a little shaky. The more he argued, the more I felt her confidence returning. Stéphane, seeing this, attacked another angle.

— “Tu m’as dit que tu m’aimais, il y a à peine une semaine ! (You said that you loved me barely a week ago !)”

A fucking low blow ! My fists contracted and I realized what a fine manipulator the man could be. With the age gap – seven years older than Frances – and his smooth talk, it was little wonder the man had managed to keep her waiting for so long.

— “Je sais. J’aurai toujours de l’affection pour toi, mais je me suis trompée. Je ne t’aime plus comme ça. (I know. I will always have some affection for you, but I was wrong. I don’t love you anymore)”

— “C’est qui, hein ? Le connard qui m’a volé ma femme ? (Who is it, eh ? Who is the bastard that stole you away from me ?)”

So he had guessed. Frances tried to save me from the suspicion, but I know it was a lost cause.

— “Steph. Il n’y a besoin de personne d’autre. (There is no need for another.)”

— “Je te crois pas, tu pouvais pas encaisser un peu de stress et tu as couru dans les bras d’un autre. Tristan ? Trop vieux pour toi, et en plus il est marié. (I don’t believe you, you just couldn’t handle a little pressure and ran in another man’s arms. Is it Tristan ? He’s way too old, and married)”

Nailed. I sighed, banging my skull against the hard stone behind me. Yes, I was too old for her; fortunately she didn’t seem to mind.

— “3 ans seule à Nancy, 6 mois à Paris et 2 ans en Norvège. J’ai pas attendu assez longtemps ? Combien de fois tu es venu me voir ? (3 years on my own in Nancy, 6 months in Paris, 2 years in Norway. Didn’t I wait enough ? How many times did you come to see me ?)”

— “Uh…”

— “3 fois ? En deux ans ? (3 times, in two years)”

A smirk quirked my lips. She had him there. I understood her reaction much better now when I popped up in Bergen to see her; her own boyfriend had trouble making that effort, and a near stranger had done it for her.

— “Ben tu sais la boîte… (But the company…)”

— “Je sais, et avant ça c’était ta dépression, et après ce sera quoi ? (I know. And before that, it was depression, and after that, what will it be ?)”

— “Allez Frances, fais pas ta chienne. Je suis prêt maintenant. (Come on Frances, don’t be a bitch. I’m ready now)”

I tensed. If insults were going to fly, the secrecy could go to hell.

— “Plus moi. (And I’m not anymore.)”

— “Espèce de saloperie de … (You fucking…)”

Enough was enough. I nearly sprang from my corner, long strides covering up the distance so that Stéphane would see me at once.

— “Est-ce que tout va bien ici ? Tu gênes le personnel Stéphane (Is everything all right, here ? You are upsetting the crew, Stéphane)”

It took only a look from him, to my protective stance by Frances’ side to realise he was right. Damn me ! I should have watched my body language. So instead of quieting, the man only called to me.

— “Oh, j’ai compris maintenant. Tu as acheté ma femme, c’est ça ? (Oh, I get it now. You bought my wife, right ?)”

Anger flared in my chest as my teeth grinded against each other, and the words came out as a hiss. By my side, Frances tensed, reaching for the sleeve of my coat to keep me from landing a punch in her boy… ex’s face.

— “Attention à tes mots (Be careful with your words)”, I hissed.

For a moment, I thought Stéphane was going to fight me. He had some bulk, and the posture of a man used to fight – nine years of karate as well. I wasn’t quite sure which one of us would be victorious. But the deadly light in my eyes, and my readiness to retaliate seemed to abate his willingness. Defeated, his shoulders sagged.

— “Bah, au moins j’en ai tiré un bon prix. (Well, at least I’ve had a good deal about it.)”

The words cut deep; they were bitter. And even if I understood how deeply wounded he was, I would not let such comment go.

— “Je suis désolé, Stéphane, il faut que tu partes. (I’m sorry, Stéphane. I think you should leave)”

— “Mais… (But…)”

I wasn’t expecting the lioness by my side to cover the distance in a few strides. She glared daggers at her ex.

— “Dégage et sors de ma vie ! (Get the fuck away and get out of my life !)”

Stéphane’s dark eyebrows shot up, taken aback by her fury. But when at last, he realised all was lost, his shining gaze softened and he lifted a hand to touch one of Frances’ curls. I tensed slightly, but she didn’t step away.

— “Ok, ok“, he whispered.

A long silence followed, his brown gaze deeply set in Frances’ eyes. I was rooted to the spot, unable to look elsewhere, fearful that he might steal the women I loved right under my nose. I could see how difficult it was to them both, this adieu that Stéphane had not expected, and Frances feared. As if they hung to a cliff by a cord, and she had to cut it to let him go. I could only imagine her guilt; Helen had been the one to ask for the divorce in the first place. It had been me, cut from my roots and thrown down the cliff, but at least I knew it was coming, even if I had not been nowhere near ready for it.

At last, Stéphane found his voice through the tears that now fell down his cheeks. Poor guy, he had loved her.

— “Je suis désolée de pas avoir été à la hauteur. Je... au revoir. (All right. Ok. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you. Just… goodbye)”

The man broke my heart, and Frances started crying earnestly.

— “Yeah. Dis à tes parents qu’ils me manqueront. Tu me manqueras. Je suis désolée, Steph. (Tell your parents I’ll miss them. I’ll miss you. I’m sorry, Steph.)”

And surprisingly, she hugged him before letting him go. Stéphane walked to his car, seemingly numb, then turned one last time to give Frances a wink. I didn’t move as she watched his car disappear on the road, waiting. Seconds passed, and still she gazed at the road, saying goodbye to the past.

After a while, Frances turned around, tears leaking down her cheeks. She ran to me and flung her arms around my middle, then the sobbing started and I couldn’t help but ache for her. My arms wrapped around her small frame, holding fast; I knew what guilt, regrets and heartache lay behind such a breakup. But at least, I was there to offer support when I had been alone through the mess.

I caressed her hair gently as she cried, whispering in her ear.

— “Let it all out, my little fairy. Don’t bottle it up”

We spent a gloomy evening; by now, the whole crew knew of the harsh words exchanged between them. I left Frances in my trailer to get changed, and find some food. She only sat there, dejected and a little stunned. As I returned with a pizza and a bottle of wine, she eventually opened up to me and we talked. About her relationship, and the way it all crumbled through the years. About my divorce, and my past life with Helen. This sharing went both ways, and we found that the same feelings inhabited us from opposite roles. And little by little, we shed those plundering emotions until nothing else remained but our core. Us. Two people, a little broken, but still eager to live.