Missy Loves René

by Judy Fischer

  There was not a soul on the beach. Someone had forgotten to tell us we were all alone in this world, trapped by innocence. The moment was singular perhaps even timeless.

  The wine, the climate, our new friends, our home by the beach turned us into irrational beings, leaving us on our own to act like foolish children. We jumped, we frolicked, we laughed and then we hugged and kissed each other with a passion that came out of nowhere. All the bottled-up feelings we had suppressed until then came gushing out, as did the waves to the shore.

  “René, are you sure?” I asked him.

  “Missy, do you remember the time when you bathed me and when you kissed my sore, broken body? I wanted to kiss you then, but I was ashamed of my life and my ways. Here, I feel free and I want to show you how I have loved you from the beginning of time. Be mine.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, René. I’ve loved you for my whole life too, it seems. There is no rush, we have so much time.”

  I picked up my clothes and the glasses and reached out my hand to his and together we returned to the house by the beach. I was sending him signals all day, trying to bring out the side of him I had never known before. However, I didn’t want him to respond, I wanted him to pursue. I wanted him to seduce me, not vice versa. This time, I expected him to take the initiative and I was willing to wait for the right time. The ambiance and the alcohol had put him into the romantic mood.

  My first time to make love had to be because of me, not the wine nor the ambiance. We both fell asleep in our separate beds.

  Seaside

  I woke up with the rise of the sun the following morning and without waking René, I showered, dressed and took a walk along the sandy beach. There were thousands of sandpipers scouring the shores in search of their morning meals; they were running up and down the coast, frenzy feeding on the algae, washed ashore with the high tide. Their tiny feet were frantically moving them around to scavenge the array of food the ocean provided for them. When they saw me, they flew away and complained all the way. It was their beach, unspoiled, a sanctuary for a variety of birds and I dared to invade, uninvited and unwanted.

  The main house was toward the north and I took that direction. Far in the distance, I saw a man walking his dog. They were enjoying their morning run almost as much as I was mine. I stopped and then sat down on the cool sand, staring out toward the horizon. I had never felt so much at peace as at that moment. I was a lonely speck of sand in the universe, insignificant, until the day would come and somehow I could find a way to make a difference in my world.

  My thoughts were thousands of miles away, staring out onto the calm waters of the ocean, when a gentle hand touched my head.

  “Hey, Missy, why didn’t you wake me?” René stood behind me whispering. I believe he was hoping he was not invading my privacy.

  “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  My answer, he accepted. Yet, as he sat down beside me, he left a hefty space between us.

  “I’m sorry about last night, I didn’t want to pressure you. You know, the wine had screwed with my head,” he said quietly.

  “I know” was all I wanted to say.

  So, for what seemed like forever, we sat in silence. Those minutes allowed our bodies and minds to absorb our new reality and shed the past year’s anxieties, pain, uncertainties and confusions about our life together. We were being reborn, and our relationship was being transformed. For the first time, we sat there as a man and a woman who cared for each other more out of love than necessity.

  “René, Missy. Come to the house, breakfast is ready,” distant voices called out our names.

  We turned our heads to see Irma and Fred standing on their white-washed balcony, waving and beckoning us.

  “I met Fred before coming down here to join you; they have something they want to ask us,” René told me as we walked slowly back toward the main house.

  I was curious about what those two were up to, not in a suspicious way; on the contrary, they had been so nice to us I felt somewhat uneasy about accepting all their graciousness. There was something I needed to think of: a way to repay their hospitality, but I was lost for ideas.

  Irma had a table set outside on the balcony. She had filled the plates with a variety of freshly baked goods, she had a big carafe of hot coffee ready to pour and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. There was a calm, soothing breeze coming in from the west, perfect for sitting outside, without worrying about the wind blowing things off the table. Either she was up, all night baking or she had found someone from a near-by bakery to deliver the assortment displayed on the white linen tablecloth before our eyes.

  “Sit down, enjoy,” Irma said as she beamed with joy.

  “Yes, isn’t it the perfect day for breakfast by the sea?” Fred interrupted.

  René started to pour the coffee for everyone and passed out the small handcrafted plates Irma had placed there. It was a gorgeous setting for a perfect day. We ate and talked about life in general and then, out of the blue, Irma asked us a question I had not expected.

  “Missy, are you all in a rush to leave? If you all want to, you could stay on for a while. I do have an offer to pass on to you all, if you are interested,” her heavy southern talk was charming.

  I looked at René who had a croissant halfway in his mouth and had stopped eating after Irma’s question. He was staring at me, waiting for my response. I didn’t want to make the decision on my own but looking at René’s expression and the croissant sticking out of his mouth gave me the green light to answer without him.

  “We would love to hear your proposal. We love your place and we would do just about anything to stay here.”

  “Well then, listen first and then decide. Every winter around this time of the year, we rent out one or both of our guest houses to tourists who want to spend Thanksgiving and/or Christmas around these shores. This year, we have only rented one. The family will be arriving in approximately one week from today. I usually have a lady staying with us who helps me around the house, to cook and clean, while we have extra people around. She has fallen ill recently, and I couldn’t find anyone to replace her. You look like the type of people who are young and strong and with no set direction. René could help Fred who has lost some of his stamina over the years and, Missy, you could help me with some chores around the house and do the groceries. The work is not too strenuous but for Fred and me, it is. For your help, we offer you the use of the other guest house, the one you are using now and full board as well. Because there are no kitchens in the other houses, as you have probably discovered, all meals are served at the main house. The family who is paying a hefty fee for the use of our beautiful surroundings will be eating breakfast and dinner with us. So, what do you all think?”

  “I can’t think of one reason to refuse your offer, Irma. René? What do you think?”

  “I’d love to help Fred. It would be my honour to work for you,” he looked first at Fred, whose hand he took and shook, and then got up and gave Irma a huge hug and a kiss on both cheeks.

  “In that case, we would love to help out in any way we can. I will start today. First, by clearing this table and then, if you would like, Irma, I would love to help you prepare dinner.”

  “My dear, you are a godsend. Thank the Lord who had placed the two of you at that table for four at George’s yesterday. I do believe in miracles.”

  Irma sang the praises to her Lord. In our own minds, we felt the same gratitude, but instead, we called it a windfall, destiny or pure luck.

  For the next week, René and I did our share in preparing for the arrival of the paying guests. There were some repairs Fred and René undertook. For René, it was a ten-hour shift for three days in a row. I hardly saw him, except during the nights when I saw only his shadow in bed.

  The floor in the guest house had to be redone and Fred had already ordered all the material before we arrived.

  Fred told René he had built the three houses with his two so
ns who had since moved to Richmond. Following their graduation from high school, they left to pursue higher educations. Both sons had gone to the University of Virginia and had married and settled there. They were scheduled to come for the Christmas festivities but only for a couple of days.

  One morning, I was given the keys to Irma’s Land Rover and a long list of groceries to buy. Irma gave me her credit card and sent me off to the nearest Publix Grocery Store in a town 20 miles south from their place. It was so refreshing to drive down the coast using Highway 1A. The winding road followed the path along the coastline. On my left was the ocean and on my right side were endless sand dunes and open fields. There was a bridge I had to cross over to arrive in the town of Hampton, where I was to do the shopping. The population of the town was approximately 120,000. For that area, it was a fair-sized development. I found the people very friendly and helpful.

  I decided to call my parents. I felt that I owed them the respect for all the years of having put up with me. There was a public telephone booth beside the mall and I stopped there before proceeding with my duties.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes. Mom, it’s me, Melissa.”

  “Melissa, where are you? The police came by looking for you and your friend. I told them I would tell you if I heard from you. Where are you and when are you coming back?”

  “Mom, I am far away and for the time being, I am not going back. Please believe me I am well and I will keep in touch. Tell Daddy I love him. Don’t worry, I am healthy and happy.”

  “We do worry about you. What should we tell your friends?”

  “Tell them I will be in touch when the time is right, until then, don’t tell them anything else.”

  “Are you still with that boy you are protecting?”

  “Yes, we are together. We are looking out for each other. Please, don’t worry, I am not alone. I love you, till next time, bye, Mom.”

  After I put the phone down, I went to sit on a nearby bench. It was awkward talking with my mother, we had not been on the same wavelength for ages, it seemed. I felt a sudden outbreak of shame and loss, so I did the only thing I could do with such feelings, I cried. I sat there and cried tears to wash away my pain. I didn’t want to lose my memories of them as they were the part of me I still needed; however, I had to find a way to manage my emotions. Reconnecting with people in my past life wasn’t easy. I realized I would always miss them, and I needed to have some form of link to them whenever I could. To deal with an empty heart was the challenge.

  I took enough time sitting on the bench to cool off and regain my focus. The Land Rover was parked in front of the grocery store and I went about my business. The list Irma had given me was a long one. She was a good housekeeper, she had all the skills that I had not yet learned in my life. I had helped my parents in the past but not during the previous year; it had been booked with my self-imposed responsibilities toward René.

  It took me an extra-long time to gather up the items she had listed. I went from section to section, aisle to aisle, finding the right quality and quantity of those products. Finally, when I had rechecked the list three times, I dared to walk out with my bags to the vehicle. I was also thankful that the cost of the groceries had been placed on Irma’s card as I never would have been able to afford the amount on mine.

  The drive back was as calming as the drive to and there was even a warm air mast streaming through my window, blowing my hair every which way. Looking out toward the sea on my right, the mist that formed in the car erased the tearstains on my face and also cleansed my mind in order to continue on the journey I had chosen.

  The Family

  All the major tasks to be completed properly to welcome the paying guests were accomplished in the first four days of our stay at Irma and Fred’s. We worked a full-day schedule every day, as there were so many outstanding projects to finish. Irma was accurate in praising the Lord for having found René and me. Without our help, our hosts would not have been able to offer the kind of service the guests had requested and were paying a pretty penny for. It was mostly our youthful strength and keen sense of obligation Irma and Fred appreciated. Their hospitality more than made of for our meagre and inexperienced help. René and I were the true winners.

  Every night for those few days, we prepared a light meal for dinner and after our usual glass of wine to end the day, we were barely able to walk back to our house. Not because of the wine, mind you, but because of the exhaustion. It was a real effort to shower and change just to get into bed. We had not seen the beach, nor the beautiful aquamarine colours of the ocean lying just metres away. My dreams of walking along the coast and sitting down to write was put on hold. The intention kept me up at nights but the fatigue quickly calmed the urge.

  I must say, René had blossomed in attitude, in humour and foremost, in his physical appearance. His long, curly hair had grown longer, he smiled more than ever, and his musculature had developed too. Very noticeably. Being outside, doing the landscaping around the property, gave him the kind of tan I envied every time I looked at him. And at times, the look I gave was more than envious. It was more like lust. Lust, a feeling I never knew I had.

  Personally, I was as white as the day I arrived. I was never the one to tan easily; however, this time, it was more because I was stuck indoors, cleaning glassware, dusting, doing laundry and going a few more times to Hampton for groceries. I had also been to that famous bakery to order our baked goods for the next month. They offered a delivery service as part of their price to those whose orders were so elaborate. They made their fresh deliveries twice a week and because Irma’s freezer was big, she was able to keep them as close to freshly baked as one could expect.

  The evening before the guests were to arrive and after cleaning up from our casual dinner, Fred asked René to go out to the beach and help him set up a massive fire pit. A hell pit he called it. Their guests had requested it as part of their planned activities. We were trying to guess why they asked for that specific activity. We all had our own ideas.

  “I think it’s for a special celebration. A birthday perhaps?” Fred guessed.

  “No, silly. They probably like to have beach parties at night. Perhaps dance around the fire?” Irma said.

  “No. No. I think they like to tell ghost stories. What a perfect setting for that. Sitting by the fire and scaring the pants off each other. I hope they invite me,” René added.

  I don’t think he knew what a bonfire was, unless the fires burning in street cauldrons counted as his idea of one. I couldn’t understand if that was his vision than why he would wish be part of one again. And ghost stories? What was that about?

  I had my own thoughts about why I would have enjoyed such an activity and I thought it was best to keep my speculations to myself. The thoughts were too naughty to come out of my mouth in public.

  The two men went outside, and Irma asked me to sit and have a cup of herbal tea with her. Skipping the wine for one night wasn’t such a bad idea. I had never drunk so much wine before arriving in Virginia.

  Irma and I had bonded well while we cleaned and cooked. I felt closer to her than I had expected to. Being alone with her didn’t agitate me in the least.

  “Missy, how long have you and René known each other?” she asked me while she was still standing in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil.

  “We met more than a year ago.” I wasn’t sure where she was going with her query, but I wanted to be as truthful as I dared to be.

  “Are the two of you married?” she brought the two mugs from the kitchen and placed mine in front of me.

  “No, we are really just very good friends, for now,” I said, blushing.

  “You two make a beautiful couple,” Irma said as she looked at me, hoping for the response I didn’t know how I was going to formulate.

  “Well, Irma, our relationship is quite complicated. To be honest, I don’t know exactly what we are to each other. Sometimes, I feel he wants me to be his sister, sometimes his
friend, sometimes his mother figure but I never feel he needs me as a lover,” I blurted out my best and most truthful reply.

  “Hmm,” she said but got caught up in her own thoughts. I sipped my tea waiting for her to judge me or to show some compassion for my situation.

  “You know, Missy, before I retired, I was a social worker. I dabbled a little bit in psychology while working for the State of Virginia. I came across many young women who had told me similar stories. I am just taking a wild guess here, but is your young man in trouble with the law?” she said as she glanced away.

  “Why do you think that, Irma? Has he done something wrong by you? He is a really good person, you know,” I spoke but jumped to defend him.

  “Missy, I anticipated your reaction before you even opened your mouth. It’s a classic case of victim vs protector syndrome, as I call it.”

  “I’m sorry for my aggressive response, Irma. I’ve been protecting him for so long now, I’m sorry but I don’t know how else to react.”

  “I understand, child, you mean well. I am just pointing out something very obvious to me. You can’t see it because you are the protector and he is the victim. Without knowing your whole story, I must tell you something crucial to this relationship. You must find a way to step back and change your role with him.”

  “I don’t know how to do that, Irma.”

  The door opened just as I finished my last word and the conversation came to a sudden halt.

  “We have the biggest, badass fire pit in these parts,” yelled out a happy and quite intoxicated Fred. René also had a bottle of beer in his hand but seemed more clearheaded than his partner in crime.

  “I think we should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a crazy day,” René said as he looked at me and held out his hand for me to take it. I did get up and even though I wanted to further my private discussion with Irma, I reluctantly took his hand to leave.