La Vie en Bleu

by Jody Klaire

  I shook my head, feeling the need to run, to flee from the bed but strong arms pinned me in place.

  “No more running.”

  “I can’t . . . please.” I sounded like a frightened child even to my own ears. What must she think of me?

  “Non. Tell me. Tell me what happened.”

  Although she was demanding, it was without aggression but more pleading.

  “You wanted to be on the motorcycles. I didn’t want to stop you.”

  Berne shook her head. “I know what you said to Rebecca mais I deserve the truth. No more lies.”

  Tears stung my eyes. The weight of her on top of me felt like a safety blanket. I was here, she was here, it was alright.

  “Do you remember me telling you about my sister?” Not sure if I could continue, I buried my head in her shoulder.

  “Catherine?”

  Her name made my stomach crunch up even tighter. I clung onto Berne as she held me.

  “What happened, she was hurt?”

  “No,” I shuddered out. “Nothing like that.” Tears took over, clutching at my throat, robbing my words from me.

  “I am here . . . Talk to me . . . s’il te plaît.” Berne stroked away the hair from my forehead. “You were close growing up, oui?”

  “Yes.” Catherine was fifteen years older than me. I’d followed her around like a puppy. “She was my hero.”

  “Was?”

  I took a few breaths to compose myself and looked up into Berne’s eyes. She was here, she was surrounding me, her warm soft skin on mine. I could do this.

  “I’d talked a lot about France, sent letters to her, postcards.”

  “Oui, we sent the one of the Notre Dame from Paris.”

  I smiled. Why it was a shock that Berne remembered that, I didn’t know, but it filled my heart with some confidence.

  “I told her all my secrets growing up. She was my champion. If I needed advice or help, she was there.”

  Berne said nothing but smiled to encourage me.

  “Before I saw . . . the accident, I saw her.” I took deep breaths, in . . . out . . . calm . . . calm . . . I could do this. “She turned up to surprise me. She saw me kiss you goodbye.”

  “Ah.”

  I murmured my agreement. At nineteen and besotted, I saw only Berne and so, quite often, our morning departures made for quite a show. So did our evening hellos but, thankfully, those were normally behind closed doors and not on the pavement.

  “She didn’t say a word about it at first. I was so delighted to see her that I didn’t see the difference in her.” I trailed my finger over Berne’s strong shoulder. I felt safe enough to go back there mentally for the first time. “We got to the café and she told me about how disgusting she thought gay people were. How she’d seen a pair on the street while waiting for me and it had turned her stomach.”

  That café was so quiet and her voice hushed. I could still smell the strong black coffee in her cup and see every detail of her expression. The look of scorn and, for want of a better word, disgust. All the while, I kept quiet, not knowing she’d been talking about me.

  “I told her that Rebecca was gay, that she was lovely . . . that people were just people.” I closed my eyes. I felt as sick as I had then, the cold sweat pulsing from me. “Then she told me that she’d seen how nice I thought gay people were. How much I’d disgraced her, the family.”

  Berne held me, her sounds soft, her touches comforting. Her warmth anchoring me.

  “I mean, she was my hero, my sister. As if that wasn’t bad enough.” Why did hurting make it so hard to breathe? Why did her venom still burn me up so?

  “I am here, tell me.”

  I gripped onto Berne’s shoulders and clung to the safety of her. “She threatened to tell my parents, who would have alienated me, but worse, she threatened to say that you’d forced me to be with you.”

  I didn’t need to look into Berne’s face. I could feel the anger tense her shoulders.

  “She told me that even the complaint would see the contract cancelled. That my father’s friend would see you bankrupt.”

  “You would have told the truth.” Her complete confidence in me made the fact I’d run worse. Why hadn’t I stayed? Why hadn’t I told her?

  “I was scared that even if I did, they may not listen. That even if they did, your name would be marked, that it would follow you.”

  Air seemed to burn my throat. I felt more tears sweep over my cheeks.

  “I was a mess. I walked home to you and I saw the accident. I ran over to him and tried to help . . . there was so much blood . . . his eyes faded . . .”

  The sirens, the chaos all around. I looked down into that poor man’s eyes. I’d never even learned his name but I’d knelt there, clinging onto him, desperately pressing my hand to his neck.

  He faded and I could do nothing. The ambulance crews came, the police, and I fled the scene. My thoughts of Catherine, of having to leave, mixed with the helplessness, the shock. I could stay and ruin Berne’s life or I could run like a coward. If I bore the pain alone she could live her dream.

  I never wanted that phone call or visit. Back then, there had been no rights, no marriage, no chance that I would be seen as important. If I left, I’d never know.

  “I heard of the accident,” Berne whispered. She sounded as affected by it as I felt. “I knew it was you who was with him.” She pulled back to look at me. “You acted with love and courage.” She scowled. “Your sister is a bitch.”

  “You think?”

  “Je connais,” Berne said. “What happened when you went back to England?”

  It was all so much of a deranged blur of recrimination, guilt, shock, and grief. Catherine had kept me under a watchful eye, the axe hanging overhead, looming high every time I thought of returning to France.

  “For two years, I was a shell. I had counselling from a nice man about the accident but it didn’t stop the pain. It didn’t stop the ache from losing you. It didn’t stop the guilt.”

  I couldn’t understand how I’d survived that time. It was so gloomy, so grey, so lonely.

  “Then one day Rebecca came to me. Her devastation shook me into life. Her dad kicking her out echoed everything I felt, you know?”

  “Oui, she was living your fear?”

  So, Rebecca had opened up to Berne, I was glad. Go girl. “Yes, he had her tutor fired and cut her off. It was brutal and she was drowning. I didn’t want her to and so we got jobs in London, got out of there. We escaped together.”

  “What did Catherine say?”

  Again the name, again the nausea. “She was livid but I told her that there was nothing going on. It was a phase, all that stuff. When Doug came along, it seemed like a way to get her off my back.”

  Oh great, that sounded cold, weak, and pathetic. “I mean, he was a nice guy. He isn’t an ogre or anything and like my mum says, I’m lucky he puts up with me.”

  Berne’s deep scowl made me tense. “He is lucky to have you look at him. You are beautiful. I will have no more of this. You are incroyable.”

  Now I knew I was blushing.

  “Catherine loves Doug,” I said, trying to keep to the topic. “She is no doubt the mastermind behind his sudden wish to get me pregnant and marry me.”

  “Encore en fois,” Berne said. “Your sister is a bitch.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life hiding from the threat back then. It sucked the life from me.” I shrugged. I was such a coward. “I’m not sure if there’s any of me left.”

  “Pepe, you suffered from trying to help that officer.” She took a breath as if it were painful for her. “You suffered at the hands of someone you trusted. You were only a young woman, you believed her words.” She scowled again. “If my brother would dream of such things, I would ache for it too.”

  “You would?”

  Berne smiled. “Oui. So what will you do?”

  Being in her arms lit the places that had been long forgotten. I was no young woman now but a rather
beaten and emotionally scarred adult. Twelve years of pain and emptiness. Years which I’d simply survived. I hadn’t lived, I hadn’t been awake even. This morning, I felt . . . alive.

  “I need to break it off with Doug,” I said, feeling the tension return. “I need to be an adult and tell him the truth.”

  Berne’s gentle smile almost looked like she was proud of me.

  “Then I want to win you back—” I placed my finger over Berne’s lips. “If you’re going to be with me instead of her, I want you to know you can count on me not to leave again.” I kissed her sweet, soft lips. “I need to earn that trust back . . . please.”

  Berne nodded. “And your sister?”

  “Can we just set Babs on her?”

  Berne chuckled.

  “In all seriousness, I don’t know. She’s kind of like that big ogre waiting with its club and I know I have to go through her to get to where I need to be.”

  “You could run through her legs, non?”

  I pulled Berne downwards, my hands making my intentions abundantly clear. “Right now, I want to focus on what promises lie on the other side.”

  Berne smiled against my mouth. I loved that feeling. “Then, let’s make this unforgettable, oui?” Her words brushed her lips against mine.

  Safe, warm, and happy.

  Lost in her touch, I briefly heard my mumbled agreement, which sounded very much like, “Oh, yeah.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  BREAKFAST WAS SERVED in a little canteen-of-a-place in the middle of the campsite. The tables were all picnic benches with wooden garden chairs around them. The staff looked like they were a family, pottering around the tables, chatting to the stragglers who lingered over their petit dejeuner. Rebecca and Babs were already there when we strolled in.

  “Bonjour,” I said, trying not to grin at Berne.

  Rebecca had a dopey expression on her face as she met my eyes. I guessed she had been inducted into the “I love France” club.

  “Morning.” She cocked her head. “I see you are the image of fidelity.”

  Tapping the ring on my finger, I smiled. “Actually, I am.”

  We sat down and I was glad that the place was next to empty this late in the morning.

  Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “One night. Wow, that was some going.”

  Berne’s hand rested on my knee and I listened to the cheery, if not tired, conversation. Sunlight bathed everything outside. Gentle tones of a radio filtered in the background. Smells of freshly made, warm bread filled my nostrils and with three people I absolutely adored the lights seemed to switch on in my head.

  The world was no longer threatening, no longer a scary place of fears. For the first time in a who-knows-how-long it felt welcoming.

  “She give you a lobotomy while you were there?” Rebecca nudged my shoulder. “Smiling inanely into space there, Pip.”

  “I’m leaving Doug.”

  Babs and Rebecca looked up from their plates. Rebecca’s mouth showing her half-chewed roll. “Am I dreaming?”

  Babs leaned into her. “Not unless we share the same head.”

  “Yes, very funny.” I turned to Berne, expecting her to shake her head or perhaps roll her eyes but no, she was staring at me like I’d grown two heads as well.

  “Um . . . you of all people should have seen that coming.” I frowned. “You were listening this morning, right?”

  She nodded, her expression blank.

  “So you heard the bit about leaving him?”

  Berne nodded again. “Mais, I thought you would change your mind.” She shrugged in that adorable French way. “He his rich, handsome. I am an artisan.”

  Now it was my turn to stare at her like she’d grown an extra nose.

  What? Had she been sleeping when I’d confessed everything to her?

  “This is why I need to earn your trust again.” I took her hand. “If you’ll ever trust me.”

  “I do—”

  “You have spent the night with me, the whole morning. I’ve told you everything and you still think I am going to go back to him.” I kissed her hand. “Would you have thought that before I left?”

  Berne shook her head. She was a woman of few words most of the time, now it was like prying barnacles off a boat. Oh wonderful, barnacles off a boat? Was I Rebecca now?

  “Then when I come back, will you still give me the chance to earn it once again?”

  “Pepe, I will do that now, I—”

  “No,” I said. “You’re in a relationship. You can trust her not to leave, she’s proven that.”

  Rebecca cleared her throat. “So, you’re really doing this. I mean, really leaving him?”

  “Yes, I really am.”

  She blinked a few times and a wide grin appeared on her sun-freckled face. “Wow, France does something to you, huh?”

  I picked up another piece of bread and took a deep breath. Better out than in as someone said. “That, and I’m gay.”

  The coughing and spluttering from Rebecca was a wonderful reward. Berne’s hand squeezing my knee was another. My cheeks felt like I could toast my bread on them but still, baby steps.

  “Pip, look me in the eye and say that again,” Rebecca said.

  Another breath. “I’m gay.”

  A little easier. It sounded like I was confessing to a murder or being an alcoholic but still.

  “Honey, I love you, you know that?” Rebecca pulled me up into a bear hug before I’d registered she moved. “You sure?”

  “Fairly certain,” I said. Wow, my cheeks were scorching and my ears were joining in. Could I have sun burned my own face?

  A second later Babs launched herself at me. What was with all the hugging? Hadn’t they seen me with Berne? It wasn’t too much of a jump. Even the Parisian receptionist had guessed and she’d only known me a few days.

  “Pepe, I knew you would re-emerge. Bravo.” Babs sounded like I was going off to war.

  My ears throbbed with the heat and my neck itched. No doubt I looked like a human lightbulb.

  “Yes, well . . . thank you?”

  Noticing that the staff were now staring at me, I went to sit back down and bury my head.

  Berne however felt that she needed to add her thoughts. “Tu es incroyable.” She wrapped me up in her arms. Oh, did I love that feeling. “I truly adore you, you understand this?”

  My poor neck itched with the heat, my face was on fire, my ears prickled away and all I seemed capable of doing was shrugging. What I must have looked like, I’ll never know.

  “I . . . well . . . you do?”

  Uh oh, the daft grin burst into place. I was a bright red itchy lunatic with a shrugging problem.

  “Oui. We should celebrate!”

  Berne took hold of my hand and dragged me from the canteen, Babs and Rebecca in tow.

  “Are you thinking the same as me?” Babs said, as we got to the boat rack.

  Berne grinned. “Oui, it will be on tonight. It will be the perfect way.”

  “What will?” I asked, not liking the conspiring.

  “I second that,” Rebecca said and exchanged a worried glance with me.

  “A celebration. Ajoux has its own tonight. My mother wished us to come, mais, I was not sure that you would feel happy there.”

  The list of panicked thoughts went as follows: Uh oh, Doug was going to be there. What if he saw me during the celebration? What if Berne’s mother caught me drooling over her daughter? What if Berne’s father/brother/uncle/aunt caught me drooling over her? What should I wear?

  “Tonight . . . in Ajoux-Sur-Rhône?” If I was red before, I was certain the blood had drained from my head, making me feel giddy.

  “Oui. It is special to me.”

  Now there was a “suck it up, leave your fiancé, and stop messing me around” statement if ever I’d heard it. Was I backing down or going for my dream? Was I going to grow a backbone and stop running from the past . . . and, in all seriousness, what was I going to wear? What was appropriate? What kind of
a celebration was it?

  “Pip,” Rebecca said. “You need to answer at some point.”

  Answer her, move lips, tongue, and speak. “Do I need dress heels, because I left them in Paris?”

  Berne’s lips claimed mine with such fervour, I was caught off balance and almost clattered into the boat stand. Wow, I guess she liked dress heels.

  “Is that a yes?”

  Rebecca folded her arms. “When do you think about heels, ever?”

  Good point, I was about as fashion conscious as a tramp. “It’s just I don’t have them with me . . . What if we’re in a—?” I stopped myself.

  I didn’t need to think about what people thought now. It wouldn’t have a bearing on Berne’s business or reputation if my skirt wasn’t the right length. “Can I just wear jeans and a t-shirt?”

  “You will be with friends,” Berne said. “With me . . . and you would look perfect to me in anything.”

  “Or nothing,” Babs added, earning a snigger from Rebecca.

  “If you two are going to be this intolerable together . . . You are together, right?” I asked.

  Both nodded.

  “Good . . . where was I?”

  “Intolerable,” Rebecca said with a smirk.

  “Right, yes. If you are going to be that way . . . yay!” I launched myself at Rebecca who did clatter into the boat rack.

  “Hey, I got enough jumping from this one.”

  Too much information, not a great visual.

  Think of Berne. Oh, there went my cheeks again. Maybe better to think of something else. Even if it was a really good—

  “Pip,” Rebecca said. “I know you’re finding your feet with your sexuality but it’s not polite to snuggle me in front of the ladies.”

  I snapped my hands from where they’d dropped to. I felt like I was burning up brighter than before.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, backing up. “Miles away.”

  Rebecca’s lurid laugh deserved a slap on the arm, which was what I gave her, as Berne chatted away in rapid French on the phone.

  “What’s she saying?” Rebecca asked me.

  “Pickles if I know, it’s at light speed.”