Roots Before Branches

by Abigail Tyrrell

  “Good girl, she is,” he said and nodded towards her as she served other customers.

  “She seems nice,” I agreed and helped myself to an olive even though I hated them.

  “She comes to mine sometimes after her shift. I take her into my Father’s outhouse where he works during the day. She really knows how to use her mouth.” Something about the way that he spoke made me think that he was lying, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.

  “Yeah? Cool.” I sipped at my wine, it was good, warming, and hit the back of my throat nicely.

  “I’m sure she would do the same for you. Want me to ask her?”

  “No,” I laughed and placed my glass back down. “I don’t want you to do that.”

  “How come? It’s not like you have girls falling at your feet is it? Maybe if you got your hair cut you might have more success.” I looked at him and blinked slowly, was he seriously critiquing my hair now?

  “What’s wrong with my hair Henry?”

  “It’s a mess,” he said simply and reached to the top of my head and pulled at a few strands. I froze. No one had ever been so forward with me before and I didn’t know how to react. “Cut your fringe, or style it back.” His hand came to my forehead and he brushed my hair to one side in a surprisingly gentle motion. “Like that. You have nice eyes Charlie.” I could have sworn that he glanced at my lips for a split second, and something told me that I needed to prepare myself for him to kiss me. He didn’t though and he dropped his hand away

  “Where the hell are they?” he tutted and looked at his watch as I started to fiddle with the elastic band around my wrist. It was starting to get a bit loose, I would have to replace it soon.

  “What time did they say they would be here?” I looked at his watch as well, it was nearing eight o’clock.

  “They said they were going to be here all afternoon. When I said I was coming they got really excited and said they would stay till the evening.”

  “They’ve stood you up then?” I smiled and took a bigger gulp of my wine.

  “Doubt it. They must have got held up somewhere. Their loss though, I will go home with Stephanie.”

  “And who is Stephanie?”

  “She’s from Ireland. You should hear her accent, its amazing.”

  “Funnily enough Henry, I know what Irish people sound like.”

  “Not her though. Can’t beat it, best accent out there.”

  “It’s not better than the French accent.” Especially when it belonged to Ezra.

  We had been drinking for about an hour by the time the girls turned up. They told me their names but at that point I had given in and drunk far too much wine to remember or even care what they were. Henry was right though, they were pretty, each with beautiful sun kissed skin and flowing long hair. They didn’t speak much English, and I cursed Ezra under my breath for saying that he wouldn’t tutor me. I had to rely on what my aunt had taught me, and because I had been so disinterested in her lessons before, I actually knew very little. Henry was fluent. Of course he was. Just another string to his bow and I hated it. While they talked I made the bad decision to order another bottle of wine, and I wasn’t in the mood to offer to share it. One of the girls gave me a judgmental look so I shrugged at her and just poured more into my glass. The last time I had looked at the clock it was nearing eleven and I started to wonder how I was going to get home. It was clear from the body language of Henry and the girls that they were most likely going to be going home together, which meant I would be making my way back on my own. I loathed taxis; I hated the small talk and the awkward silences in equal measure. Finding one in the town at this time of night was almost impossible as well. Which meant I was going to attempt to ride my bike back or walk. Neither seemed particularly appealing, but the bike would get me there faster. I muttered my goodbyes to Henry and the girls, who couldn’t really care less that I was leaving and made my way out into the square.

  The night air made me feel worse. The freshness dragged me from the smoke of Coco’s and swam around in my head and it didn’t sit well with the amount of alcohol I had consumed. I tried to walk along the lines of the stones on the floor, I’m still not sure if I was successful or not, but I made my way to where Henry and I had left our bikes by the tobacco shop.

  “I hope you’re not planning on riding that.” I knew the voice immediately and looked over my shoulder at Ezra.

  “You,” I said and pointed my finger at him. “Are meant to be busy tonight.” My words were slurring slightly and I tried to stand without wobbling.

  “I have been.” He smiled and moved closer to me and placed his hand on the handle bar of my bike.

  “Yeah? Why are you here then?”

  “I’ve just finished tutoring someone. I’m on my way home. Good job I left when I did, it appears I have stopped you from having a horrible accident.” He sounded so sure of himself and I had an urge to push him away from me and my bike.

  “I know how to ride a bike. It’s easy.”

  “Even when you’re drunk?”

  “What you going to do? Tell my aunt?” I scoffed.

  “No. I’m going to walk you home.” I stared at him with a scowl. I didn’t want him to walk me home. I was not a child and that was exactly the way he was making me feel. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself Charlie.”

  “I won’t…” I moved my bike away from him and started to walk with it away from the town square.

  “Charlie, wait,” he called after me and he was walking up beside me before I could respond. “I want to walk you home, let me.”

  “Why?” I stopped abruptly and looked at him. “You don’t know me, you’re not my friend.”

  “I would say I know you. At least a little. I want to get to know you.”

  “You want to get to know me.” I mocked his tone in a childish way.

  “Come on Charlie.”

  “My name is Charles. You can call me Charles.”

  “Your name is not Charles.” Ezra frowned in confusion. “I asked Andre on my first day. It would be a strange thing for him to lie about.” He had got me there, I don’t know why I had decided to lie about it other than aiming to be rude to him. I guess I also wanted to hide that strange attraction I knew I was feeling, and by being hostile with him, he would hopefully never pick up on it.

  “I…” I started to speak but then abruptly started to walk again, my bike wheel squeaking as I went.

  “Charlie.” I felt his hand on my shoulder and he gently squeezed it in a reassuring way to get me to stop moving. “Come back to Andre’s. If you are not going to let me walk you home you could at least let me take you there.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. I will stay up all night worrying about if you got home okay and then I will be useless for work tomorrow and I will let your aunt down.” I noticed then that his hand was still on my shoulder but I made no attempt to get him to remove it.

  “I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to go to Andre’s.” My voice had grown quiet, and I was sure I was going to be sick.

  “Then let me walk you home.”

  “Fine.”

  We walked in silence for most of the way, the only sounds being our feet on the ground and the occasional sound of wildlife. There were no vehicles around at that time of the night, but the lack of headlights on cars meant the road was practically pitch black and we were walking blind. It was disorientating and when we were about fifteen minutes away from the house I had to stop to be sick by the side of the road. I could feel myself trembling and it dawned on me that I had left my jacket at Coco’s. Ezra came up behind me and softly rubbed the small of my back while I kept retching. Even though I was drunk it didn’t stop me from feeling humiliated.

  “What did you drink?” Ezra asked and his voice sounded so gentle.

  “Wine. Lots of wine.” I stood up straight again and ran my sleeve across my mouth.

  “Wine is the worst for hangovers,” he informed me, “make sure you drink lots of
water when you get in. It will help.” His hand was still lightly pressed against my back and he brought it round to my hand. I looked down at where his fingers touched mine and I wanted to grasp his hand tightly. Before I could react he moved his hand away and started to shrug off his jacket. “You’re freezing. Put this on.” I took it from him without protest and was grateful for the warmth it gave me. It was too big, the arms hung over my hands, not that it mattered.

  “Thanks,” I said and watched as he picked up my bike from where I had dropped it beside the road.

  “You’re welcome,” he smiled then and it struck me just how handsome he was. I wondered if he knew I had these thoughts, if he ever had them about me, or any other man.

  “You look nice at night,” I told him as we started to walk again, and my head felt a little clearer than it had before.

  “Only at night?” he teased and let out a small laugh, “you look nice when you’re drunk. Your cheeks have a nice red colour to them.” I could tell he was mocking me, but it felt like he was doing it in an endearing way.

  “Red is a good colour on me then?”

  “I actually prefer green on you, but red on your cheeks, yes.” I raised an eyebrow as I looked at the ground, watching each step we took.

  “Why do you always wear white when you’re working?” I asked, guessing it was a good of a time as any to ask.

  “I honestly don’t own many clothes, its unfortunate that most of the tops I have are white,” he explained.

  “You can have some of mine if you want?”

  “Thanks, Charlie,” he said fondly.

  “They should fit. When we get home you can come choose some…if you want.”

  “It’s okay, don’t want to wake your aunt. She will wonder what her gardener is doing sneaking around at night with her nephew.”

  “She would probably be happy that I have another friend other than Henry,” I laughed even though I knew she actually wouldn’t be happy about it at all. She would fire Ezra on the spot.

  “Who is Henry?”

  “No one. Just someone I go to college with. He’s a jerk.”

  “What’s a jerk?”

  “You know, an idiot,” I explained, thinking of the nearest English word I could find because I didn’t want to attempt to try and translate it into French for him.

  “Ah, I see.” We walked a little more in silence after that and I enjoyed being with him alone at night, it felt like I was being given a special privilege. I wondered if his students felt like that when they were with him.

  “Where are you from?” I asked and I felt an uneasy feeling as I could make out my house in the distance which meant our time together was nearing its end.

  “Not somewhere you would have heard of. It’s a very

  small town in Bordeaux.”

  “So you know your wine then?”

  “That is a gross assumption,” he chuckled, “but yes, I know a thing or two about wine. You clearly don’t. None of the wine that they serve in Coco’s is worth drinking.”

  “Spoken like a true wine connoisseur,” I laughed with him, “what is the name of the town you are from, I might surprise you and know all about it.”

  “Saint-Emilion. Know it?”

  “No,” I admitted though I wish I could have told him I knew everything that there was to know about his home town.

  “It is a very beautiful town. People usually go there to visit the church. Not many people live there though.”

  “Does your family still live there?”

  “No. I lived there with my Grandfather for as long as I can remember, my parents were killed in an accident when I was very young. But my Grandfather passed away last year. He left his house to me and my brother in his will…but my brother sold it.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” I felt like maybe I shouldn’t have pried then, but he seemed okay giving me more information.

  “It’s okay. My Grandfather was very old. My brother…well he is what you would call a jerk,” he said and gave me a wink. “Well. Charlie. Here we are.” He gestured to the house and it was only then that I noticed we had reached the entrance of the driveway.

  “Will you be okay walking back on your own?” I asked, though he seemed capable of looking after himself.

  “Yes. Thank you for asking.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my cheek. “See you tomorrow,” he said and pushed the bike towards me for me to take and gave a small wave and I watched as he walked back off into the darkness.

  BOLD

  The next morning I didn’t get up when my alarm went off. Each shrill ring drilled through my skull with extreme precision. I turned it off and drank some water that I had left beside my bed the night before and went back to sleep. When I woke back up again it had gone noon and I could hear the faint sound of people hammering in the garden. I stretched as I got up and looked out the large glass doors to the rear of my bedroom out onto the balcony. I could make out Andre and Ezra putting together the greenhouse, they would be done before the day was out. I chose my clothes carefully that day, it looked hot outside so I wore shorts and made sure that I wore a green shirt, just in case I came into contact with Ezra at some point. Most of the previous night was hazy but I remember him saying that green was my colour and I didn’t want to disappoint him. When I went down to the kitchen my tablet wasn’t on the table like usual, but I was too preoccupied to bother asking Hildie about it and I assumed she was too occupied with Bardet to remember.

  After lunch I had a call from my father in England to say that I would need to return in a couple of weeks for a funeral. It was for a distant cousin I was sure that I had never met, but I was expected to be there anyway. The news didn’t thrill me. When I went home I liked to stay for a while and spend some decent time with my father and brother, not a flying visit to mourn someone I didn’t know. I had told him that it was okay regardless of how I felt and he assured me that he would book me a ticket and send over the information that evening. I let my aunt know about the funeral, assuming that she too would want to come back with me if it was a relation but she was quick to say she was not going to be wasting money for someone she couldn’t care less about. Sometimes I wished I could be more like her - more upfront about what I thought. I didn’t want to be rude though and that was definitely how she came across most of the time. She did say that she would talk to my tutors about me having time off though, which I appreciated. I did fear falling behind, even missing a few days was a lot for me in the long run and I didn’t want to get bogged down with work. After this term I would be finished, my father had talked about me having an apprenticeship with an artist in London when I returned home and the thought scared and excited me in equal measures. My heart hurt at the thought of leaving my aunt in the place I had learnt to call home. I couldn’t say that I would miss my fellow students, but I would miss Andre, and the idea I had of the person Ezra was.

  Andre had come into the house at around six when my aunt and I were working through her most recent French lesson she had put together for me. Today we were learning all about different animals - something I knew would not help me in the slightest if I wanted to try and impress Ezra. Aunt Hildie had seemed a bit surprised at Andre walking in, but her features softened when he told her that the greenhouse was finished.

  “Can I go and look at it?” I asked her and she thought about it for a moment before giving me a curt nod.

  “That’s enough French for today anyway. Go and make sure that there’s no mess left,” she said and gave Andre a pointed look. He grimaced and started to tell her that he had made sure that they had tidied up as they went, but I had already got up and started to make my way out to the garden to hear how the conversation ended up. I was pleased to see Ezra was still there, potting up some vegetables in the new greenhouse and I happily made my way over to him and opened the door.

  “This is great,” I said and ran my fingers along one of the glass panes.

  “Not bad is it?” he smiled and rubbed his soiled
hands on his jeans.

  “Aunt Hildie will be happy. She’s been going on at Andre to build this for months.”

  “Yes. He told me.” He turned away to place some more plant pots on a shelf they had put to the rear of the building.

  “I have your jacket inside. Thanks for lending it to me last night, and walking me home.”

  “It was my pleasure.” Was it? A pleasure for him? Or was he just being polite?

  “You were right, I don’t think I would have made it home alone on my bike. You’re my hero.” Ezra stopped what he was doing and looked at me, a concerned expression on his face.

  “I only did what any good person would do. It was nothing more than that.” I suddenly worried if I had been too forward in my words and that I had given something away with my tone.

  “Oh. Yeah. I know. I just wanted to…sorry.” I started to back up towards the door to the greenhouse, eager to now get away from the conversation.

  “Careful-” Ezra said but it was too late, my foot caught on a tool that had been left on the floor and I felt myself falling. I closed my eyes as I hit the floor and felt a sudden sharp pain rip through my calf and when I opened my eyes again I saw that the tool I had slipped on was actually a garden fork that had now cut my leg open.

  “Shit,” I said quietly and quickly put my hand over the blood and cursed myself for wearing shorts that day. Ezra was on the floor by my side in seconds and he pushed the garden fork away then lifted my hand away from the wound.

  “Let me see.” I watched him as he looked at my leg then he got a rag out of his jeans pocket and placed it there, pushing down hard to stop the bleeding. “Does it hurt?”

  “It’s okay. I’ve had worse.”