Running to Stand Still

by J Theron

  “It is close by, walking distance,” Michael said absentmindedly. He took her hand as he led her through a maze of narrow streets lined by ancient stone houses. He was walking slowly and watching her the whole time, as if he could not quite believe that she was really there.

  “I still can’t believe we ran into each other like this. Do you know what the odds are? I was sitting at my usual table when I noticed you. I recognised you immediately. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was how it was possible that Danielle Rousseau from Jeffreys Bay was sitting in my favourite restaurant in Avignon!”

  “Why are you in Avignon?” she asked with a perplexed expression on her face. “I saw your father last year when I visited my parents in Jeffreys Bay. I asked him how you were doing and he said that he thought you were still in Paris, but that he hadn’t heard from you in a long time.”

  “My father and I are not exactly on friendly terms,” Michael replied. “He didn’t approve of my leaving South Africa to study in France. He never really gave me a good reason for his disapproval. I suspect he was disappointed that I didn’t want to be a lawyer like him, although he never said as much. I tried to convince him that I wanted to study in Paris but he didn’t want to hear anything about it. In the end I gave up and left for Paris straight after I completed my military service without telling him. I didn’t even go home to say good bye.”

  Danielle could hear the regret in his voice even though he tried to keep his tone even. She asked gently, “Have you ever thought about talking to your father to try and figure out why he wanted you to stay in South Africa?”

  “I love my father, but he’s not the easiest person to talk to. He became very withdrawn after my mother died.”

  “That sounds very familiar…” Danielle bumped her shoulder against Michael’s as she spoke.

  He smiled and shrugged. “Perhaps we are too similar to get along.”

  They walked in silence for a while and Danielle could not suppress the overwhelming feeling of elation washing over her. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine walking through the streets of Avignon with Michael. She was curious how he came to be in Avignon but she did not want to pry. He had never been forthcoming with personal details.

  “Let’s talk about less depressing things,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “Avignon is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen,” she said passionately. “If I had to leave fantastic Cape Town, which is unlikely, I would live here. I fell in love with Avignon the first moment I saw it, and I suspect it would be an undying, great love affair until I die.”

  Michael smiled broadly and her breath caught at the sight of the smile which used to make her weak at the knees. “I’ve been living in Avignon for two years. One of the galleries here is selling my work and I’m finally making a decent living.”

  Michael slowed and came to a stop in front of his house. Danielle looked at the beautiful old building with pale blue shutters lining the windows and wrought iron balustrades around the second floor terrace. A creeper was attached to a part of the façade and the house looked as if it belonged in another century. He opened the large gate leading to the small garden in the front of the house and dragged her along the stone steps leading to the massive wooden front door.

  “Michael, is this your house? You seem to be making more than a decent living,” she exclaimed.

  She watched in fascination as he pulled a key from the front pocket of his jeans and unlocked the door, pushing it open with some force. The old door seemed to be resisting and then slowly opened. He led her inside and closed the door behind them.

  They stood in a big double volume entrance hall and she immediately noticed that the house was cold. The stone floor was polished and the massive wooden staircase that led to the second floor, loomed in front of her. To her left she could see the kitchen and to her right the dining room and the living room. Straight ahead was a long corridor with a number of doors leading out of it and she assumed it was the bedrooms.

  “I live here alone. I have a housekeeper who comes in every day, but she doesn’t live here. I have all these rooms and I would love it if you would stay here for the remainder of your time in Avignon. I know we’ve only known each other for five minutes, but you remind me of this girl I used to know a long time ago.” Michael had a boyishly appealing smile on his face as he turned to her, expectantly waiting for her answer.

  “This is amazing, but I can’t stay here! I haven’t seen you in ten years. You live here by yourself and my fiancé would have a heart attack if he found out I was staying with a man I haven’t seen in a decade, alone, in his house,” Danielle said emphatically.

  “How long are you planning on staying in Avignon?” he asked.

  “Three weeks give or take.” She shrugged. “I’m still deciding.”

  “Enough time for me to convince you otherwise,” he said teasingly. He gave her a wicked grin before tugging her up the stairs. “I want to show you my studio,” he continued with enthusiasm.

  Danielle followed him up the stairs curious to see where he spent his days. When they reached the second level he led her down the narrow corridor until they reached the only door. He pushed it open and stood aside to allow her to enter first. She walked into a big studio that comprised the entire second level of the house. It had beautiful old wooden floors and light was streaming through the many windows at the front of the house. She stared out the windows and all she could see was the endless expanse of the sprawling rooftops of Avignon.

  Every bit of wall space was filled with paintings. There were at least forty or fifty paintings. He appeared to be quite a prolific artist. She turned around to look at his work before she spoke, still in awe, “So many paintings! How long did it take you to do all this?”

  He smiled. “This is six months work. When I paint, I tend to forget about everything else. I don’t sell all of them. Only the best. I usually pick only twenty or so to be sold during an exhibition.”

  In one corner she could see where Michael stood to paint. There was an unfinished canvas on the easel and on one side was a battered wooden table with brushes and paints scattered all over the rough surface. The wooden floor around the easel was spattered with paint. On the other side was an old chaise longue.

  In the centre of the studio a large bed stuck out incongruously. It seemed to be out of place in the chaos of the studio, because it was neatly made and the cushions artfully arranged at the wooden headboard. He watched her as she studied the studio and smiled when she seemed to fix on the bed.

  “I sleep in here sometimes. I get up in the middle of the night to paint when I can’t sleep. I do have a bedroom downstairs but I rarely use it,” he said.

  Danielle walked over to the chaise longue and sat down, looking around the studio, her hands absentmindedly brushing over the green velvet of the chaise. “Is this where your models pose for you?” There was a teasing note in her voice.

  “Only when I do nudes, but I haven’t done any recently,” Michael said with a serious expression on his face but his eyes were full of humour. Danielle blushed and laughed as he winked at her.

  “You don’t do nudes, do you?” It came out as a statement more than a question, and Michael raised his eyebrows.

  “I can always be convinced otherwise,” he said with a wicked grin on his face.

  She blushed again and pretended to look out the windows to hide her embarrassment. She wondered for a second what it would be like to pose nude for Michael. It disturbed her and she forced her thoughts to more neutral ground.

  “I’m so happy for you, Michael. You seem to have everything you always dreamed of. I’m glad that you followed your dream.” She turned her gaze back to him and they stared wordlessly at each other. The seconds ticked by and her voice caught in her throat. The air in the studio became stifling and she had the urge to walk to the windows to get some fresh air. It was as if an invisible spell was cast over her.

  Michael finally broke the silence. H
e had a wistful expression on his face as he said, “In reality the dream is not always what one imagined it would be.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked softly.

  “I hurt a lot of people by my decision to move to France. I don’t know if it was worth it,” he said pensively.

  Danielle could not tear her eyes away from his face. She waited for him to elaborate on that statement but he remained silent and she could not help but wonder if she was one of those people he referred to. Instead he walked towards her and sat down next to her on the chaise longue. He was still looking at her with his piercing blue eyes and she could feel herself being pulled into their depths.

  It slowly dawned on her that she did not want to leave his company. She wanted to stay and talk to him indefinitely. It worried her that she could feel that way and she had a sudden urge to grab her bag and run, but she managed to remain polite while the anxiety coursed through her veins.

  “Do you mind walking me to my hotel? I think it is close by, but I’m afraid I’ll get lost. I didn’t really pay attention while we were walking here,” she said apologetically.

  “Of course! It gives me an excuse to see where you’re staying,” he said with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She knew he was teasing her again and she realised she enjoyed it. She felt the familiar rhythm of their friendship returning and it was comforting.

  He paused momentarily before asking, “Why don’t you join us for drinks tonight? I’ll introduce you to my friends and my girlfriend, Lucienne.”

  “You have a girlfriend?” she asked before she could stop herself and she hoped he did not hear the shock in her voice. She had to fight against the feeling of disappointment that she had no right to feel.

  “We met a year ago in Paris. She’s a sculptor.” His head was downcast as he spoke, making it impossible for her to see the expression on his face.

  “I never really did the girlfriend thing,” he said. “I guess I was too full of shit, being the tortured artist and all that crap.” Michael looked up and Danielle could see he had a self-deprecating smile on his face. “I was alone for a long time, and I guess it became ….lonely.”

  “I can’t imagine you being lonely,” she said. “People have always been drawn to you.”

  “I’m not eighteen anymore, Danni. People change….”

  Danielle studied Michael as he spoke. She could sense the air of melancholy surrounding him and she wondered if the isolation in France was the cause. He had always been hard to read, even as a boy.

  “I know, but some things stay the same.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  She smiled. “Thank you for the invitation. I obviously don’t know anyone here and it would be fantastic to meet your friends…..and Lucienne.”

  Danielle was quiet as they walked back to her hotel. Their conversation played over and over in her head and thoughts of Michael, past and present, flooded her mind. As they stopped in the street in front of her hotel, Michael kissed her on the cheek.

  “I will be here at nine. I’ll meet you in the lobby,” he said.

  Danielle watched him walk away and a sense of déjà vu washed over her. It was so powerful she was momentarily taken aback by its force. She stared at his retreating back and wondered if he would glance back at her as he always did when they were teenagers. He did not and she felt strangely sad as she turned to enter the hotel.

  CHAPTER 7

  Michael was already waiting for Danielle in the hotel lobby when she entered it at exactly nine o’clock. She walked to him and kissed him on the cheek, then stood back to look at him. She was wearing high heels and even though she was almost six feet in her heels, she still had to tilt her head to look up at him.

  His long hair was tied back neatly with a black elastic band and it accentuated the strong features of his face. He was wearing an old pair of jeans, and a grey V-neck jersey that hugged his torso, revealing the muscular outline of his chest. She had to force herself to look away from the skin revealed by the V-neck of his jersey. It was smooth and she wondered for a second if his whole chest was still as smooth as when he was eighteen years old.

  “Danielle, did you hear me?” She was startled out of her reverie when she realised Michael had spoken to her and she had missed it completely.

  “Uh, sorry! Can you repeat that?” Danielle hoped that her voice did not betray her embarrassment.

  “I asked if you would like to have a drink with me first before we joined my friends.”

  “Yes. Definitely. It will allow us to catch up. Am I dressed appropriately for where we’re going?” she asked with uncertainty in her voice.

  She was wearing a flowing pair of grey pants made from a soft material that sat low on her hips and a black stretch top with thin black straps over her shoulders. The top revealed a tiny stretch of skin above her pants showing off her flat stomach. Her long dark hair was loose and she was wearing large silver hoop earrings. Her green eyes were lined with dark eyeliner and her lashes were thick from the black mascara, making her look like a gypsy.

  “You look stunning as always, Danni,” Michael replied as he studied her. He smiled before saying, “I know the perfect place to have a drink. You’ll love it.” He took her hand as he led her out onto the street, his fingers entwining with hers.

  The pub was in a quiet ally away from the main street. Danielle almost did not see the entrance before Michael pulled her through the door. It was cosy inside with a few tables and a bar at the far end of the pub. The patrons greeted Michael as they walked to a quiet table in the corner and he seemed to know most of them by name.

  “Why don’t you sit down while I get us a drink from the bar? What would you like?” he asked. He remained standing as she sat down.

  “A glass of red wine would be perfect. Merlot if possible?” Danielle replied.

  Michael nodded and walked to the bar. She watched him as he started speaking to the bartender, a squat man with unruly brown hair. They had an animated conversation for a few seconds, but it was too far away for her to understand what they were saying. Michael laughed and took the drinks from the bartender before turning around and making his way back to their table.

  “What did you say to the bartender?” she asked, unable to control her curiosity.

  “He asked me who you were. He said Lucienne was going to cut my balls off! I told him you were a childhood friend from South Africa and he said he was going to move to South Africa tomorrow if all friends looked like you!” Michael took a sip of his beer and sat back in his chair, never taking his eyes off Danielle.

  “I will take that as a compliment,” she said with laughter in her voice.

  “I always knew Jacques was a smart guy for a bartender,” he replied with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before asking, “How is Rachel? Is she married?”

  She sighed. “She was engaged to her childhood boyfriend, Craig. Do you remember him?” He nodded.

  “He left her at the altar. Literally. I was her maid of honour and I noticed he became progressively more agitated as the wedding ceremony continued. When the time came to say I do, he simply turned to Rachel and said he couldn’t go through with it. I will never forget the look on her face as she watched him walk out of the church. Everybody sat in stunned silence.”

  Michael looked utterly perplexed. “I always knew that guy was a stupid idiot. Rachel is great. He should have his head examined.”

  Danielle felt a rush of warmth for Michael because of his statement about her beloved sister. “Fortunately Rachel is strong and she didn’t let it break her. She’s an eternal optimist and she still believes in love and happily ever after.”

  “And you, Danielle? What do you believe?” he asked.

  “I believe we have to make the rational choice and then choose to be happy,” she replied.

  He chuckled as he took another sip of his beer. “If only it were that easy.” He seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at his beer.

  She
felt uncomfortable as the silence lengthened and was just about to ask him about Lucienne, when his next words took the wind completely from her sails.

  “What are your plans now that you have finished medical school and your internship in Johannesburg?” he asked nonchalantly, not seeming to notice her gaping at him.

  “How do you know I went to medical school? Or that I had to go to Johannesburg for my internship? I remember telling you I wanted to study medicine, but the last time we spoke I was still in high school.” She had an incredulous expression on her face and completely forgot about the glass of wine in her hand.

  Michael sat forward in his chair and looked at her intently. “Thomas told me. Reluctantly, I must add.” He paused before continuing in a strange voice, “He forgot to mention that you were engaged though.”

  She was completely taken aback. “He doesn’t know. I got engaged just before I came to France. Wait! Why are you and Thomas discussing me? He has never said a word about you in the last ten years. We saw each other almost every day because we lived in the same street in Stellenbosch and he failed to mention you once.”

  “He’s still pissed off with me for kissing you,” he replied.

  Danielle reached for her glass and took a big gulp of wine, but she swallowed too fast and started choking and coughing. He watched her silently while she tried to catch her breath. Finally she was able to respond.

  “That was ten years ago. Surely Thomas isn’t still mad about that! We were children for goodness sake.”

  “Is that why you decided to date Thomas when you started medical school in Stellenbosch? I distinctly remember you telling him that you were just friends. The fickle emotions of children, right?” He was smiling as he sipped his beer, but she got the impression that she was being interrogated.

  “Thomas was my best friend. He was in love with me and I thought maybe I could feel the same way if I gave it a chance. I tried for a long time, but I realised even though I loved him, I would never be in love with him.”