The Ink Well Prompt #89 Link
“Madame Beauchêne,” Emma said softly, as she lightly knocked on the door, politely making her presence known. She walked through and gently set down a cup of sparkling water onto a coaster that lay on the marble night table.
“Merci,” said Lorraine, only slightly paying attention. The words flowed out easily after many years of being waited on.
“Has the morphine kicked in yet?” asked Emma.
“There’s still some pain here --” She started to lift up her side, but Emma stopped her.
“Okay, well, we’ll wait for the morphine to kick in, and then I’ll come up and change the bandages. I’ll be down in the parlor cleaning, for when the art appraiser arrives.” She leaned in closely to the bed trying to find the remote control call button that was buried down on the side. “Ah, here it is. Okay, call me if you need me.” She handed Lorraine the remote and started to walk out of the room.
“Oh, Emma?” Lorraine suddenly remembered something.
“Yes, Madame?”
I want to keep the curtains open, but --” she started squinting her eyes. “When the sun comes out from behind the clouds, it’s shining on that mirror and reflecting into my eyes. Do you mind taking it down?”
“Of course, Madame.” Emma went to lift the large mirror off of the wall, but then stopped as she looked around the room, not sure where to put it.
“Just set it on top of that desk for now. That’ll do.” said Lorraine.
“Oui.” Emma hoisted the mirror onto the desk, leaning it against the wall. The golden leaves on the ornate frame made it unstable to just stand on the desk against the wall. She attached the hanging wire on the back of the mirror to an old hook on the wall that used to hold a picture frame. The mirror slanted down awkwardly, but at least seemed secured.
“Oh, the snow is really sticking, isn’t it?” With the mirror at a new angle, Lorraine could now see a completely different view of the outside. She could now see partially down into the street instead of out into the sky.
“Ah, oui,” said Emma, politely smiling. She grabbed some plates that were on the desk and walked out of the room, shutting the door softly.
Lorraine shifted her attention to her new view overlooking Rue Saint Jacques and saw the street lamp next to the bus stop. As the snow tumbled down peacefully over the lamp, she was struck by a distant memory; one from when she was about Emma’s age. She remembered standing below that same light, during the snow, waiting for the bus to take her home. She remembered the scene so vividly. She was looking up at the light, trying to hold back tears. She watched the surreal image of the snow dancing around the light; the tears in her eyes sometimes blurring her vision. The snow came down, landing on her face. Her sadness turned to embarrassment when she couldn’t hold it in any longer and let out a loud sob. She quickly covered her mouth to avoid further embarrassment, but the other waiting passengers were already staring. She used a mittened hand to wipe the snot from her nose, and then didn’t know what to do with the soiled mitten. She looked around awkwardly at the onlookers. They looked like they weren’t sure if they needed to help her. She quickly composed herself to show she didn’t need any intervention. It was just a broken heart.
Louis was going to marry Camille. This reality was still sinking in, as she’d just found out. She stood there at the bus stop, now in bewilderment, pondering this reality. She told herself it was just a fling when she heard they were dating. Now, she felt silly for being in such denial. She chastised herself for her silly fantasies. She was always chasing a dream and trying to figure out the meaning of happiness. The crushing sadness of never having a chance with the man she loved was so heavy; such a contrast against the powdery snow that fell from the sky. She continued to look up.
As the eighty-eight year old Lorraine looked back on this memory of intense emotions, she realized something: she wanted to go back and relive this time. But why? Maybe because that is what pushed her to start her business. It’s what made her feel alive. The frustration was the fuel that kept her going. Had she not started her business, she wouldn’t have been able to afford the Bentley. If she didn’t have the Bentley, she wouldn’t have met Gabriel in the waiting room of the dealership when the Bentley broke down. It turns out Gabriel was her true love. She realized the meaning of happiness is being truly alive. Being human, and experiencing a vast array of emotions; that’s what happiness is. Overcoming heartache and obstacles. Solving problems. Trusting fate.
Fate had done her well. She looked around the bedroom of her Vieux Montreal estate. Her eyes gazed around the high ceiling, encrusted with elaborate crown molding. Heavy, long, velvet curtains, tied back with solid brass tiebacks, cascaded down the sides of the arched windows. The baroque pillars came out of the wall, surrounding the intricately carved border of the fireplace mantel. She heard Emma’s footsteps coming up the curving Victorian carved-wood staircase, then down the marble tile hallway towards the bedroom. She absent-mindedly opened the door with more force this time, and walked in with a sullen look on her face. When she saw Lorraine looking at her, she released her scowl and composed herself.
“Everything okay, Emma?” Lorraine asked. They had a professional relationship, but Lorraine still had genuine concern for her.
“Oui, Madame,” Emma lied. Lorraine could tell it was a personal matter that she didn’t want to bring to work. Emma appeared to have been lost in thought while cleaning the parlor. A boy, perhaps? Lorraine began to feel sorry for her.
Emma went to grab scissors as she unrolled the gauze, then realized the scissors weren’t there. She looked around the room, slightly irritated. Lorraine knew she wasn’t actually irritated about the scissors. Emma walked over to the desk and opened the drawers to retrieve the scissors. She slammed the drawer shut, as she was in a hurry, and rushed back to the bedside table.
It happened very fast; behind Emma as she was walking back over. Lorraine saw the mirror come crashing down from the motion of the slamming drawer. The glass shattered everywhere. Emma gasped, then looked like she was on the verge of tears.
“It’s okay,” Lorraine said. “It can be replaced. I’m glad it didn’t fall on you.” She didn’t have the energy to care about tangible items anymore.
“I’m so sorry, Madame,” Emma said.
“Really, Emma, it’s okay. Let’s just finish the bandages and call for Charles to clean it up.”
“It’s not just that,” Emma said. “It’s bad luck.”
“Trust me, Emma,” Lorraine said, “there’s no such thing. It all happens for a reason. Everything is going to be okay.” She said this in a calm and reassuring voice, and seemed to be in a dissociated state.
Emma was of course oblivious to Lorraine’s recent epiphany, and assumed this was the morphine talking. She continued to measure out the gauze bandage as she quietly nodded her head.