by Olivia Lara
Days passed and there was no word from him. She started doubting her memories of that evening. What if he had forgotten her? What if he had written the address incorrectly and his letter was lost? What if he’d just said he would write, but never planned to?
She would watch from her window to see when the postman arrived and before he even got back on his bike to go to the next house, she was standing in front of the mailbox, rummaging through the envelopes. Not for her, not for her, not for her. No. Nothing.
Almost a week after their meeting, as she was going through the daily mail as usual – although now a bit less hopeful – she got to the last one in the pile and couldn’t believe her eyes. A simple, small white envelope addressed to Zara. She turned it on the other side to check the sender. It simply said, ‘Leon Price, La Rolande, Vaud, Switzerland’.
She squealed excitedly.
‘Good news?’ asked the postman, smiling.
‘The best,’ she said, beaming back. After running back upstairs to her room, she closed the door behind her and placed the envelope carefully on the small desk. She wasn’t just excited, she was also inexplicably nervous. Zara kept circling the desk, looking at the letter, but not daring to open it. Then, all of a sudden, she grabbed it and ripped it open.
Getting that first letter, it was as if nothing else mattered. Even if he’d only said hello, he had remembered her and kept his promise. And maybe that meant he was thinking about her, which was good, because she couldn’t think of anything else but him.
Zara wrote back that same day and mailed it the next morning.
LEON
16 JANUARY 1955
VAUD
After five days of waiting and pacing and obsessively checking the mailbox, a letter came for him. A letter from her.
I remember you, Leon from New York.
Zara
Leon couldn’t wait to tell Nicole, but she wasn’t in her room, the library, the tennis court, or the cafeteria. Where was she? After thinking for a moment, Leon dashed to the boys’ dorm, walked up to the top floor and stopped in front of room 165 for a moment before knocking.
There were few reasons he would ever visit Vincent’s room. But now, he was willing to ignore Vincent’s presence. He needed his best friend. Even if that meant having to endure Vincent’s mockery, which was sure to come.
Vincent opened the door and twisted his mouth in a grimace.
‘What is it, trouble?’ he asked in his usual mocking tone. That was his nickname for Leon. Trouble. ‘You couldn’t last ten minutes without her?’
‘Is she here?’ Leon asked and peered inside.
‘Where else?’
Nicole must’ve heard his voice, because she showed up in the doorway. Vincent wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him.
‘Leon, hi. Something wrong?’ she asked, seeming a bit uncomfortable.
Ignoring Vincent, Leon pulled Nicole by the hand and into the hallway.
‘She wrote back,’ he whispered in her ear.
Nicole looked at him, then back at Vincent. ‘Why don’t you come in?’ she said, loud enough for Vincent to hear.
‘Is that a good idea?’ Leon said.
‘Not really,’ said Vincent. ‘You’re kind of interrupting us.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Nicole.
Vincent had just moved into his ‘senior’ room and Leon hadn’t been in yet. The room was bigger than his, with large windows on both sides overlooking the back garden and the lake.
‘Nice view,’ said Leon.
‘What do you have? The inside court?’ Vincent sneered.
Leon ignored him, pulled the letter from his pocket and gave it to Nicole to read.
He was used to this exchange with Vincent. He’d had years of it and it rarely affected him anymore. Vincent wasn’t a bad guy. He just had a big ego and an even bigger mouth.
Nicole took the letter from him and walked to the side window.
‘What is that?’ asked Vincent.
Nicole didn’t say anything as she took the paper out of the envelope and Leon wondered what he should do. Tell him? No. Why would he tell Vincent about Zara?
‘Just a thing I wanted to show Nicole.’
‘It looks like a letter,’ Vincent said, staring at Leon for a second. ‘Can I see it? Let me see it,’ he insisted. ‘Wait a minute. Are you sending letters to Nico now? In front of my face?’
Nicole hated to be called Nico, and she and Leon gave each other a look.
‘Calm down, Vincent,’ said Nicole. ‘It’s not for me.’
‘Then who is it for?’
‘Leon.’ Her face was expressionless, and Leon didn’t know if she’d read it or not.
‘Aww, a letter for my little friend. Make my day and tell me it’s from a girl,’ he said and batted his eyelashes.
Leon shoved him but it did little to budge Vincent, who was a year older, a head taller and well built.
‘It’s none of your business,’ said Leon. But he knew sooner or later Vincent would find out. Nicole wasn’t very good at keeping secrets.
‘You’re in my room, giving letters to Nico, so I’d say that makes it my business.’
Leon sighed. Without going into all the details, he told Vincent the truth.
The more he talked, the more Vincent’s face relaxed.
‘Hallelujah,’ he said when Leon finished.
Leon and Nicole looked at each other, confused.
‘You like a girl. Other than Nico. This is a big day – we should celebrate.’
‘But I…’ Leon tried to say something, but there was no way to stop Vincent. He seemed truly excited. It was weird.
Leon would’ve said he didn’t like Nicole that way, but he had already said it many times before, defending their friendship when Vincent accused him of trying to separate them. ‘Don’t you think I know what you’re doing?’ he used to say. ‘Always around her, like a little mouse? You are waiting for me to make a mistake so you can swoop in. In your dreams, trouble!’
‘Don’t start with that again, Vincent,’ Nicole said now. ‘If Leon liked me that way, he had plenty of opportunities to do something about it. But he never did.’
The way Nicole said it, it seemed like Nicole was angry with Leon, rather than Vincent. He shrugged. Girls were complicated and Nicole more than others.
‘Fine. I’ll stop. But it’s not my fault I want you all to myself,’ said Vincent and kissed her. Nicole smiled at him lovingly, then turned to Leon. ‘It’s nice you have a pen pal,’ she said. ‘Not much of a letter, but at least now you have someone to talk art with, right?’
She knew very well Zara was much more than a pen pal. And it wasn’t just about art.
Realizing he’d made a mistake coming over, Leon headed for the door. ‘Thanks. I have to go. I have a letter to write.’
He waved goodbye and rushed out.
For hours Leon walked around the campus, reading those eight words again and again like they were the world’s biggest love declaration. After the initial euphoria passed, he panicked. What should he say next? That night he wrote back.
Dear Zara,
Have you ever had so much to say but found it impossible to say anything? Like you don’t know where to start or what’s most important? I want to tell you everything, you know? And I want to know everything. I wish I was there with you; it would be much easier. I keep thinking of our time together and how fast it went.
Can you tell me more about Colmar? My grandparents lived in a small town in Normandy, and I have some vague recollection of it. In a way, I think Colmar reminds me of it. My favorite spot was a square in the center of the town. It was surrounded by a park and in the middle of it there was an ice cream place. I loved their chocolate banana ice cream. Still miss it. What’s your favorite place in Colmar? Aside from the museum, of course.
You know, it might sound strange, but I envy your freedom to walk wherever you want, come and go as you please, discover new places and see all those marve
lous things you told me about. Our campus is pretty big, it’s almost like a village so I can’t complain about that, but I can’t go beyond the gates. Not without an adult anyway. And we have a curfew at night. To be honest, if they opened the gates now, I don’t even know where I would go. Maybe I could make my way to the train station… and accidentally end up on a train back to Alsace.
Talking about the train station, remember I told you about my Monet book and how I lost it? Well, I have decided to write a letter to SNCF in Paris and ask them if they found it. They must have a lost and found desk there. I keep thinking what an amazing coincidence it was that you had the same book and how nice it would be if we both had a copy, especially since there are so few of them in the world.
Leon
ZARA
4 FEBRUARY 1955
COLMAR
A few days later, a second letter arrived. And she responded again, right away. She didn’t know where to start or how to end her letters. She wouldn’t stop writing if she didn’t have to. She didn’t want to keep him waiting.
Dear Leon,
I don’t know anyone who’s at a boarding school besides you. It must be so different from my school. I imagine a big building where everyone studies and then there are rooms, maybe twenty or thirty of them, with three to four in one room. Am I close? Our school is an old brick building with maybe ten classrooms. At the end of the eight hours, everyone goes home. I sometimes wish I had someone to share my room with. A best friend. Eh. Oh, and we also have a small yard and an even smaller garden we take care of.
Do you have a garden at your school? I don’t know if you even like flowers, but my absolute favorite is jasmine. Have you ever seen a jasmine shrub in the spring? You have to.
Why won’t they let you leave the campus? Are there many kids there? Perhaps it’s hard for the teachers to keep an eye out for all of you. When do you get to go home? It’s a long way to New York.
You must miss your parents terribly. I couldn’t imagine my life without seeing my mother every day. We are very close. In a way, she is the best friend I said I wish I had.
Zara
P.S. I went back to the museum the other day, and into the library when the guard wasn’t paying attention, and I sat where we sat. But this time the lights didn’t go off and you didn’t show up. Let me know when you’re going to take that train back to Alsace. I’ll be waiting for you in the museum.
P.P.S. Almost forgot to tell you about my favorite place. I have a few. But I think the closest to my heart is a bit similar to yours. It is in the town square as well, but it’s not an ice cream place. It’s a small boulangerie. Sometimes, as a treat, my mother and I take a walk around town, then stop for croissants and hot cocoa in the winter, or ice-cold lemonade in the summer. You can sit there for hours, in the sun, watching people pass by and listening to a street performer. It is the perfect place.
Dear Zara,
Next time, maybe I can go with you to the boulangerie. I would love that.
Our campus is pretty different to what you’ve imagined, though I like the picture you created better. La Rolande is home to over a thousand students from all over the world. It’s like a small village. I don’t share my room with anyone, although I used to in my first few years. There are over sixty classrooms. Then there are science laboratories, a few music rooms, and a massive library – my favorite place here. We have a garden too, but I don’t go there often, although now I will, so I can see if we have any jasmine.
It does get lonely out here and we don’t go home that often. Some students are luckier and spend all their vacations with their families. I don’t. My parents are very busy and travel a lot; I see them for maybe three or four weeks during the summer. But even that doesn’t happen every year. Luckily, I do have a best friend here, and just like you with your mom, I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like if we weren’t so close. We grew up together in New York before moving here. We’re like family.
What will happen when your mom gets a job in Paris? You’ll go with her, right?
Leon
This letter was followed by another one, and then and another. Zara responded to each of them the very same day and mailed them to Switzerland the morning after, on her way to school.
Even the mailman knew she was waiting for letters from Switzerland, so he’d place Leon’s letter on top of the pile.
Zara would’ve written to him every minute of every day if she could, as if they were continuing a conversation. Because that was it exactly how it felt and there was always something to tell him.
Sometimes it was something she’d read.
Dear Leon,
I found an article in Le Figaro about Monet. It’s from a few weeks ago, but I don’t know if you’ve seen it, so I cut it out for you. See where it says the original Impression, Sunrise is on tour through Alsace museums? Maybe you weren’t so far from it when you came to Colmar. Maybe you read it and it was in the back of your mind.
Zara
P.S. I forgot to tell you that when I went back to the Unterlinden, I looked for the book but couldn’t find it anymore. It made me sad. For some reason, it felt important to me.
I know I put it back, but after that, I don’t know. And I can’t ask the curator because then he will know I was in there. I wonder what happened to it. Now we’ve both lost our copies of the book… I hope at least you find yours.
Sometimes it was something she’d heard.
Dear Leon,
Have you ever been on the Metro? I didn’t even know what it was until my mother explained they have one in Paris too and they’ve had it for over fifty years. I have just heard on the radio they recently opened one in Rome. I’ve never been to Rome and I’ve never been on the Metro either but everyone seemed so excited, it must be something fascinating. It is like a train, Mama said, but in the city and underground. It sounds a bit scary to me.
I’ve been on a bus, on a train and I think on a boat when I was little. That’s all. Have you been on the Metro? Maybe I’ll try it when I go to Paris.
Zara
Sometimes it was something she’d listened to.
Leon,
You said there was a music room at La Rolande and there must be a record player or a radio there. I’m hoping they will play this song on one of the channels. I’ve only recently discovered it, but it must have been released a few years ago. It’s called ‘Sous le Ciel de Paris’ by Jean Bretonnière. It’s my absolute favorite song.
Zara
Every little thing. She wanted to share every small detail with Leon. Zara never thought she would feel so much for someone in such a short amount of time. She and Leon had become friends instantly. Maybe the best of friends. He didn’t get bored with her stories, and she was fascinated by his. They liked the same things, the same books, even the same food, although they came from such different worlds.
If she had the money, she would’ve asked her mother to take her to Switzerland. Zara had never even seen his face, yet he was in her every thought, in every little thing she did. She woke up thinking about him, went to school imagining they walked hand in hand. Sometimes she wrote their names together in her journal, side by side. Zara and Leon. Leon and Zara. How perfectly they fit together. Like they were meant for each other.
But would she ever see him again?
LEON
14 FEBRUARY 1955
VAUD
Leon started every day with a letter to Zara and ended it the same way. She had become his first thought in the morning and his last whispered word before he finally fell asleep at night.
Dear Zara,
I was sorry to hear about the book. Maybe you could ask your mother to talk to the curator.
I wrote to SNCF, although I didn’t hear back yet. But there’s hope.
Thank you for the article! No, I hadn’t read it before. Now it is glued in my scrapbook with all things Monet, next to a map of Alsace where I’m circling all the museums and seeing where it might go next. Wouldn’t
it be something if Colmar was on the list?
You know, sometimes I dream that after I find this painting, I’ll start looking for others. I would travel the world, going from museum to museum and from collector to collector, asking questions, spending a ridiculous amount of time just staring at beautiful art. Now that’s a sweet dream, isn’t it? Leon, the painting detective, at your service. Lost your Degas? Someone stole it? Leon will find it for you. The problem is I’ll have to learn everything about all the painters, not just Monet. Hard work. But I think I would love it.
Leon
P.S. What is your dream?
Dear Leon,
My dream? I’ve never really thought about it. It must be something to do with art. I wish I could… breathe art, walk in the footsteps of the big and famous artists in Montmartre, live surrounded by all that beauty. My mother and I have been talking about moving to Paris for years now, but it’s hard. She can’t seem to find a job there. She doesn’t give up though. I dream about it too, but I also don’t know if I’m ready. I told you how much I love this small town. It’s home. Paris is a dream, yes.
Zara
He was more and more in awe of her. So many times, he thought of asking her for a photo but he didn’t want Zara to get the wrong idea, and he didn’t want to scare her away.
Excited to talk to someone about her, since Nicole avoided the subject, he wrote to his father about how they’d met, how special she was and how excited he was about going after the painting together. The three of them. Even the four of them, with Nicole’s father JJ.
But his father didn’t react as he’d hoped. ‘I don’t want to hear such nonsense from you again. You’re a young man now. Those were just childhood fantasies. You have better things to do than dream about paintings. As for this girl, she doesn’t sound like someone your mother would like to have over for dinner. You know how she disapproves of these kinds of people.’