4. le bus part
la lune était triste. "il y aura un jour où tu ne me regarderas plus. car il y a des étoiles bien plus belles que moi. je me demande si j'aurai encore une place dans ce ciel alors. je me demande si tu vas m'oublier comme tu le fais souvent." dit-elle.
-
a middle aged woman stood at the bus stand, with a cloth bag on her shoulders and a tired look on her face. she stood with a book in one hand and an overcoat in another, and hummed a soft song.
a younger girl stood next to her. this girl had choppily cut hair and square-shaped glasses at the edge of her nose, which she occasionally scratched with her hastily painted fingernails.
the cold was not very pleasant like it usually is.
the two stood across the bus stand.
"hi-excuse me ma'am, i know this is a strange request but could i borrow your coat ? it's just, it's freezing and i haven't got enough layers on."
the older lady seemed hesitant, but offered the kid an olive branch. she handed her the shabby-looking coat.
"jesus christ, thank you so much." the girl slipped into the overcoat too large for her. "hi i'm ciara." she said with a smile.
the other lady wasn't as gregarious as ciara here. "hmm. not an issue. just hand it over when i get off the bus."
a cranky-looking bus appeared in the horizon at the far end of the road.
and both our characters got in.
-
the journey from amsterdam to maastricht is a good 3 hours by the public bus. the middle aged woman took out a book covered with solid brown paper.
the bus was pretty empty. easter sunday.
the younger girl turned back and tried to peer into the woman's book.
"so uh what's the story ?"
the woman on the receiving end was visibly annoyed. "kid, what is it that i can help you with ? how do you not have any sense of personal boundary ?"
ciara was clearly offended at that.
but it did not stop her from continuing the conversation.
"can i atleast ask why you're going to maastricht ? i mean nobody willingly goes there. it's like actually dead."
the lady was silent. she was focused on the book.
the kid continued. "pleeaaase. god the boredom is killing me here. please please please please pleeease-"
"to return something. to a friend."
ciara perked her ears. "wow. and your friend lives in maastricht ?"
"has been for sometime."
the pages in the book were dirty. a lot of dog eared pages. she hated dog eared paged. atleast she used to. she flipped through the pages.
there were words in pen etched into the pages. different colours. black. blue. red.
colours. colo-
"wow you're married ? that's a nice ring."
the girl's voice was cackly. less honeyed more saccharine.
the lady looked down at her ring. "i am. 10 years now."
the ring was very large.
"ah mon soleil ! regarde cette maison, comme c'est pittoresque ! aaaah !!" the girl sat on the chair the wrong way, showing her a postcard.
"lu, you know i'm not good with french."
lucine laughed. "oh oh je suis désolé- uh what a good house this ! maastricht ! see "
lucine spoke in an adorable broken english.
astra loved it.
she bent down and kissed the flustered french girl.
god her eyes were -
"man this is actually a very warm coat.."
the college girl's voice cut through the lady's thoughts.
"don't tamper with it please." she spoke sternly.
"doooon't worry." the kid chuckled.
the roads passed slowly. the gravel melted into one like butter. or maybe everything just looked blurry.
"i'll die if you don't marry me, lu." astra whispered into the girl's sleeping hair. lucine groaned sleepily, and moved closer to her. "hmm.. je t'aime plus.." replied the groggy counterpart-
"hey HEY hey lady, the bus stopped for a water break. you want anything ?"
the lady rubbed her eyes. "huh ?"
"water break ?!?"
"oh. i'm good, thank you."
"où étais-tu ?"
"don't throw your fucking french at me right now."
"TU ETAIS PARTI PENDANT UNE SEMAINE, J'ETAIS MORT DE PEUR ASTRA !"
"I DON'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING GODDAMNIT."
"please astra speak with me-"
"you don't understand what's happening lucine. i don't solve my shit by talking. i'm not you. stop pretending i'm people you've been with."
"what ?"
"you're so fucking blinded by yourself."
"tu es ivre. tu ne penses pas clairement."
"get out."
"what?"
"leave."
"please no please this is home. i don't know where to go but home."
the bus jerked a lot. the entire ride was a series of jerks. the seats were worn out. the driver was pissed.
the passengers were pissed.
everybody was pissed.
they just wanted to get there fast.
the kid was fast asleep. even while sleeping, her snores echoed in the bus.
the brown coat rolled off her seat and hit the floor of the vehicle.
"lu, i'm sorry."
lucine was quiet. "lu, please. please don't be silent. speak in french if you want to."
astra sobbed. "please lu."
lucine got up,
she hugged astra.
"it is okay."
she spoke softer now.
the music played loudly in astra's earphones.
When you cycled by
Here began all my dreams
The saddest thing I've ever seen
And you never knew
How much I really liked you
'Cause I never even told you
Oh, but I meant to
Are you still there?
♪
Or have you moved away?
Or have you moved away?
♪
I would love to go back to the old house
But I never will
I never will
I never will
astra had always loved the smiths.
it was a shame lucine did too.
now the smiths were no longer just hers.
lucine was a fond memory now.
an occasional good song.
just like the smiths.
"astra, veux-tu m'épouser ?"
"astra ?"
-
the maastricht general cemetery is huge. from the outside it looks like a nice playing park. and the headstones look pretty. there's a lot of white flowers here.
astra walks around until she finds a familiar headstone.
LUCINE MARION ALLARD.
(1960 - 1984)
elle vit dans les fleurs pour toujours maintenant
she sits down in the grass. she pulls out the brown overcoat from under her arm, and pats the dust away. astra kissed the clothe and folded it like she used to. then gently placed it against the headstone.
"hey lu," she said. "i brought your favourite flea market coat back. i scoured through all of our old apartment to find it. maybe it would make this place better. you know, when it gets cold in the night ? yeah.
i miss you, by the way. "
the graveyard was silent. a silence astra had looked for, for a long time.
"i'm sorry lucine. for all of it. for treating you the way i did. the worst part is i could never tell you any of this. while you were in front of me.
i love you lucine.
i don't think i can stop loving you.
oh,"
astra brought out the book from her bag.
"here's your book. i finally finished reading it."
she smiled.
"i loved your french poetry at the edges of the pages. i even learnt french last summer to read it."
the silence was deafening.
"is it bad that i want you to remember me fondly ? even after everything ? sitting here, talking to your gravestone, asking you to forgive how i left you, makes me a pathetic person.
maybe all of this is pathetic.
coming here every month.
i think i'm trying to find you in the only thing you have left this world."
astra wiped a tear. took off her ring. and sat against the gravestone.
"ton soleil t'a apporté des roses jaunes, lu. reviens vers moi. ne sois pas en colère."
-
tu as dit que tu aimais les fleurs rouges, astra !
still, a whole field ? you must be crazy.
-
le soleil était silencieux. elle n'a rien dit qui puisse améliorer les choses.
"je suis désolé."
-
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