12 Cévennes

15th of February 2010, Cévennes.

I was drenched to the bone by the time Pierre-Jean – the director – had decided to call it a day. By now, the beasts were unsettled, and Elise – my daughter – trembled in my arms. The drizzle had not lasted that long, but with the icy wind it was enough to turn us into icicles. That kid’s strength of character impressed me, and she wasn’t intimidated by me either. Of course, her mother had been invited on set, but even when mounted on the great horse Elise didn’t squirm. A core of steel, that one. A little too much for my taste maybe. My children were softer than this… usually. Only when I had announced the divorce had they lashed out at me, my son much more than my daughter. My angels. There were just perfect, and thankfully not as pissed at me than last year.

I handed Elise into her mother’s waiting arms before dismounting myself. The rain was getting stronger, and the groom took the reins from me with a nod. Tightening the thick wool coat around me, I hastened to my trailer. A warm shower would do me good. Hopefully, I would be presentable before Frances arrived from her four hour drive – From Lyon to here. It worried me a little; those were narrow roads, typical of the countryside, and I hoped she would make it unscathed. Well. Norwegian winter lanes probably were in worse condition.

As I walked down the lane, I spotted a rounded car parked amidst the trailers – could have been a ladybug in red, but it only looked like a pebble in its grey hues. Well, at least she’d made it in one piece.

— “Hey Tristan !”

Pierre-Jean’s voice echoed around the deserted hills.

— “Ta femme est arrivée” (Your wife just arrived)

It was meant as a jab, but given my recent history, I couldn’t help the scowl that took over my face. Fortunately, Pierre-Jean realised his blunder and apologized before telling me he had sent her to the costume section in the backroom of the mansion.

— “Je vais la retrouver là-bas et lui montrer ses quartiers“, I said. (I’ll meet her there and show her to her quarters)

I went around the domain where the costumer had claimed ownership of a little backroom. There weren’t that many people in the cast, and the clothes were more practical than formal. The voice of Marie, the chief costume lady, echoed as she talked about a dress. The long trail of reddish hair I spotted told me exactly who she was speaking to. Frances, still clad in her long coat, was touching the fabric with great care and cooing about the quality of the craftmanship. I penetrated a little further, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.

— “Ah, voilà notre Johan”

Frances turned around, seemingly confused until her eyes caught mine. Her features brightened with such joy that I was taken aback.

— “Hei, ven” (hey friend !)

The Scandinavian greeting confused me, but I didn’t get time to dwell on it as she rushed to me. I lifted my hands up with a warning.

— “Don’t !”

Her arms landed around me before I could push her away, and I couldn’t help but give her a tight squeeze. For a short second, my fatigue just washed away. Then I remembered how wet my coat was, my hair still dripping in my back.

— “I’m drenched”, I deadpanned.

Frances chuckled then, pulling away quickly.

— “Yeah, I gathered”

Fortunately, Marie didn’t think twice about the warm greeting, choosing to fuss over me like a mother hen.

— “Oh mon dieu, vous êtes tout trempé » (Oh my god, you are drenched !)

— « Ditto », I smirked.

— « Venez-vous déshabiller. »

Frances watched me out of the corner of her eye, wondering what she should do. I took the long vest away, revealing the pleated shirt below, and handing it to Marie who took it reverently. Then she dragged me at the back of the costume room where a screen gave a little privacy.

— “I’ll be back”, I told Frances over my shoulder.

“Her lips quirked at the Terminator quote, her eyes twinkling before she turned to the costumes. From the intense look of concentration on her face, she seemed quite interested. Her arrival brought me a second wind, and I got rid of the sticky shirt to pass on my sweatshirt. My hair stuck out in every direction, and Marie gave me an amused eyeful when I exited the so called ‘changeroom’.

— “A la douche, monsieur Tristan” (Get a shower)

— “Tout de suite, chère Marie” (At once, dear Marie)

Frances was waiting for me.

— “Come, I’ll show you to your trailer.”

The young woman followed me outside where the rain had gotten quite fierce.

— “Ready for a run ?”

We exchanged a look and pulled our respective hoods, then I took off under the fat icy drops. I didn’t need to turn around to know that she followed, and I took a short cut through the field to reach the trailers faster. With the downpour, I wasn’t about to hang around so I darted inside my own trailer, hoping she would follow. The squash noise that her heeled shoes made on the plastic linoleum confirmed it. Shit, heels !

— “I’m sorry, I had not realised you had heels. The ground is treacherous”

— “Don’t worry about it, it was fun.”

I shook my head.

— “You might reconsider your footwear for a few weeks”

— “I will”, she answered easily, panting from the exertion.

Then her eyes roamed the small expense of the trailer.

— “So There’s your den. It is little wonder you spend so much time outside”

— “Yeah. There wasn’t any inn close enough, so we thought it easier.”

I wondered if it would be a problem for her – I had seen her kitchen in Norway – but she dismissed my concern easily.

— “Fair game. As long as I can lie down to sleep, I’m game”

Her eyes landed on me then, and she cocked her head aside as her gaze roamed my figure from head to toe.

— “Have you been working out ?”, she suddenly asked.

I nodded, impressed she had seen the difference with the heavy sweater, especially since we had met only twice.

— “We felt that Johan needed a little more bulk. And I’ll need it in the next movie anyway”

Her eyes trailed to my shoulders, then to my face. Analysing, picking me apart like a piece of equation.

— “Well, those are impressive changes in such a little time. It does suit you. So you signed up for the next one already ?”

Damn, I had forgotten to tell her. Not that it mattered anyway. Once this movie was over, we wouldn’t need to be in contact anymore, right ?

— “Yeah. October”

— “Great ! Where will it be?”

— “In Canada, I think”

— “Ok. That’s what, 6 hours difference ?”

I nodded, a drop of water falling on my nose. I wiped it with my sleeve.

— “I’ll have to be careful when I call.”

The corner of my lip twitched slightly, relief flooding my chest. I wasn’t the only one considering her as a friend, then. In my delight, it didn’t see it coming. The way her innocent question sent the world crashing down.

— “Will your wife come with you, then ?”

My features froze and my mouth dried.

— “I…”

I tried so hard to keep the hurt at bay, and I knew my face to be the impassive mask I’d perfected over the years. Unfortunately, she saw right through it, for she approached me as if I was a wounded animal. With my hair dripping and my defeated posture, I must have looked incredibly pitiful.

— “Tristan. What happened ?”

Out of our conversations, we had covered many, many subjects. Some more intimate than others, but never that particular one. I really, really didn’t want her involved in this mess. Suddenly, the coldness of little fingers registered in my brain, sliding into my much bigger hand. This was a boundary we had never breached, but in my state of distress, it didn’t matter. Surprised by her touch, I sank into the sofa. Frances settled by my side, her features clearly worried.

— “I don’t want to pry, Tristan. You don’t owe me any explanation”

I shook the hand she held still, trying to find the right words. Then found that ripping the band aid always went better when done fast.

— “I got divorced”

Sadness washed over her face. Then the notion settled in.

— “Oh. OK. When ?”

I sighed. How was she going to react ?

— “Last year. It took me a while to accept it. Hell, I don’t think I have accepted it yet. I didn’t want to drag you into this.”

— “Hey. You share what you want about your life, but know that I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

Her statement made me pause, and I lifted my eyes to find her earnest gaze fixed upon my face. There was a sturdiness to her that I had missed before, some hidden strength. After all, it took some courage to pack your things and move in a foreign country at barely twenty-three years old.

— “I guess I just didn’t want to talk about it.”

— “I can understand why.”

Frances released my hand then, squeezing my fingers one more time before letting go.

— “You should get a shower before you catch a cold.”

I felt she wanted to talk more; her eyes shone with many untold questions. Whether she didn’t dare, or tried to ease up the pressure on me, I was grateful for her flight.

— “Your trailer is next door”, I told her.

— “That’s great. I’m a star, yay !”

Her mock giddiness called a small smile to my lips, then she disappeared in a blur and all that was left was the tingles in my hand and the hole in my chest. When I came out of the shower – hot water had done wonders to my mood – I found a small shiny packet that seemed familiar. Opening the bright red sachet, the aroma of chocolate hit my nose. Of course ! Those were the same chocolates I had feasted upon in her village, the ones that had melted on my fingers while we walked from bridge to bridge. Such a sweet attention. My heart soared; she had remembered.