Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

“Jeanne knew I was the buyer…” I said under my breath as I led my hand to my forehead. That phone call was transforming into the most surreal one of my entire life.

“I’m afraid so,” Anne asserted. Of course she did. Jeanne was clever enough to figure it out, but she had managed to act as if nothing was happening. How could she? Was that the reason she went to see me? Because she was mad at me? She didn’t seem very mad when she crawled on top of me, but with Jeanne you could never really tell.

“Fuck…” I mumbled, shaking my head ‘no.’

“I have to admit I found your attitude quite suspicious. You sounded as a madman, Harry. And Jeanne…–––she mused. She sounded quite disturbed, and that is not Jeanne at all.” I remembered Louis commenting on that call. I knew he didn’t speak Italian but he didn’t even notice Jeanne’s nervousness because he didn’t know her as well as I did.

“We had met over the exhibition and things went a bit crazy,” I admitted, still bewildered by the revelation. Why did I have to react that way? Why couldn’t I just go along with it at the art gallery as Louis did? Things didn’t turn out too well for me then, and there was another proof of it. Jeanne knew…

“Have you sorted things out? Are you…?–––she interrupted herself. Knowing my daughter, should I say… lovers?” She spoke cautiously. I instinctively straightened up.

“We sort of are,” I answered after a second. To have that conversation with her mother was something out of this world, but Anne and I had clicked from the beginning, and it probably was my only chance to get to understand Jeanne better. “Your daughter is a huge puzzle to me. She does things like this, like not telling me she’s aware of stuff, so I feel I never get to know her mind or her heart.” Why didn’t she mention it? How could she learn such thing and just keep it quiet? God, she was impossible.

“That is definitely Jeanne–––she claimed, sounding quite amused. So used to expose her body though never revealing too much of herself.”

“I never met someone like her…” I complained in disbelief. I was so lost because of her attitude. “Does she do it on purpose?” Anne chuckled.

“Well, she’s widely conscious of her effect on others, but this is the way she is, the way she has always been with everyone except her father–––she explained, trying to clarify what was in fact quite shady. I remember when she was around six years old they used to sit at the table with their palms touching, just looking at one another in silence. I always thought they were reading each other’s minds–––she spoke with such tenderness I couldn’t help but grin. She was the most amazing child, so lively, but with such an inner life. Didier was so enamoured of his daughter. Their bond was magic…” The more Anne spoke the more I felt this hunger growing in the pit of my stomach, the bottomless hunger of knowing Jeanne completely.

“Tell me about him,” I suggested, hoping she were fine with it. I always felt so hooked by their story.

“He was the only man I loved, ever since I met him–––Anne almost moaned. I knew he was going to be the father of my child.” At her words I couldn’t help but squirm distraught in my spot. “We were madly in love, but he was so free…” For a moment it felt like she were speaking about Jeanne and me, but I knew what she was referring to, the cheating of her husband. Nonetheless there wasn’t a single trace of bitterness in her voice. “His soul wasn’t from this world. He was an artist and a child of nature.” Each word was taking me deeper. I could feel the emotion resounding everywhere… She was still in love with him even if he had been gone for so long. I wished someone could love me like this. “Jeanne and Didier are so similar. People are drawn to them, but not in a physical way.” I snorted lightly but Anne carried on as if she hadn’t heard me. “It’s something from the spirit.” I wasn’t sure about that.

“Tell me more about her when she was little…”

“Jeanne was the most kind, empathising child–––she giggled. I’ll never forget one time when she was ten she read Anne Frank’s diary, and she just cut her own hair. She went to the bathroom, grabbed a pair of scissors and literally cut it to the scalp…” I listened to the words quite puzzled. “When we saw her neither Didier nor I could believe it, and once she explained to us she did it for solidarity he cried for hours, deeply moved by her gesture.” There was a pride in Anne’s voice. A sudden sadness overtook my soul, and my lower lip began to quiver. “She wore it short for an entire year until she let it grow again because she got earache–––Anne carried on. Do you know who Anne Frank is, don’t you?”

“The Jewish girl killed by the Nazis,” I murmured. I barely remembered her name when Justin Bieber had that episode over a remark he made on her. I wasn’t very proud of my obliviousness, but it was never too late to learn. “What happened between her and Antoine?” I asked sternly, facing the fact that I could totally hate the answer, as always. But I needed to know more.

“I see she didn’t tell you…” Anne hesitated.

“You are already doing the opposite of what she asked for…” The obvious was stated. I just breathed in deeply.

“Jeanne and Antoine met by chance during her next to last year in college–––she explained. He was studying art at the Academy as her father did. She became quite fond of him…” Anne could try to make it light with words, but I wasn’t settling for any less than the whole thing.

“Was it love?” I said in a husky tone. My attitude was utterly selfish and useless, but since the first moment she mentioned it on the streets of Paris I hoped it weren’t true.

“It’s always love when you’re twenty…” She said in an eerie tone. God, she and her daughter were the same. “Well, they had been together for six months, but Antoine was unfaithful to her.” I almost dropped the phone.

“Unfaithful to her?–––I blurted out. How is this possible?” My mind couldn’t even hold the idea. How could he want another girl when he had Jeanne?

“Sometimes being in love doesn’t mean you care–––Anne observed. Antoine is an absolute narcissist and couldn't help himself.” A narcissist? Oh, yeah, he was in love with himself. “He regretted it later and begged for forgiveness, but she didn’t take him back–––she continued, even if it was a delicate subject for her. Jeanne decided she needed distance and left to London. The summer soon after she came back Didier died.” Stan’s words from our latest talk started to make all the sense. It was in fact as ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’ only that countries were reversed, and if that part was right, then the rest should be too.

“Is that the reason she is the way she is?” I inquired.

“I'm not following you.”

“Earlier on you seemed to suggest you know Jeanne doesn’t do relationships–––I explained, desperate for her opinion. Is it because of what happened with Antoine?”

“Oh, I couldn’t tell–––Anne meditated. It probably triggered some fears related to her father. Didier didn’t believe in absolute commitment.” We suddenly fell into an awkward silence. I could feel she knew I was aware of everything.

“Do you know her thesis is about me?” I quickly changed the subject.

“Is it?–––she claimed as puzzled. I knew it wasn’t traditional but I had no idea. I moved to Italy after Didier died. I couldn’t stay in France… It was too painful, so I ran away. Besides, because of my work I travel constantly. Jeanne doesn’t give me too many details on her life.” That probably was the reason she didn’t know about us being lovers or even knowing each other. If they had a fluent relationship none of this would actually have happened. The fact that they both knew me would have surfaced at some point.

“But you knew she is still friends with Antoine and even worked with him,” I insisted.

“Yes, but this is who she is–––Anne said sternly to avoid confusion. After Didier’s death it was foolish to stay mad at him. She had bigger issues to deal with.” Somehow or other, that sounded as Jeanne. “Her father was never fond of Antoine–––she carried on. Maybe he noticed they resembled too much to one another, though he didn't say a word against him, even after they broke up.” I could relate to that, parents allowing their children to make their own mistakes. It was pretty much like I was raised.

“May I ask you how it happened? How…?” I hesitated, hoping I wouldn’t need to say the proper words. Maybe I was going too far.

“We had this dinner party with many friends at ‘La biguine’–––she spoke so determinately I figured she understood what I was talking about–––and we were dancing in the art studio, me and Maurice, and Jeanne and Didier.” Oh, no… I knew it was a heart attack, but I could have never imagined something so big. My hands began to tremble, fearing the worst. “I heard a noise and when I turned around I saw Didier falling to the floor and Jeanne trying to grab him. Everything seemed to shut down and became slow motion… I couldn’t even hear the shouting–––she choked a bit. I could only see Didier convulsing on her lap and her face transfixed in horror.” I threw my head forward, coming to squeeze my eyes, my heart pounding out of control. “When I finally reacted she was crying, grasping his shirt, and I was holding his hand. Somebody grabbed Jeanne and took her away. Until this day I still don’t know who it was. Probably Maurice…” Once I felt the tears pricking at my eyes I just let them flow silently. For a moment, none of us could say another word. Anne should have realised what was stopping me. It was too heavy… Her father had died in her arms. I couldn’t even think of going through something like this. And she had never told me… In a second I seemed to recall all the things we did together in the art studio, and shook from head to toes, especially to the memory of us dancing by Maurice's suggestion. I couldn’t help but find a new meaning to everything. I cleared my throat.

“I went to your house this summer, to ‘La biguine’–––I dissimulated my shaky voice as much as I could. She took me there.”

“So it was you when I called,” Anne chuckled. Our talk must have been pretty surreal to her too. “She never takes people there…”

“You mean ‘people’ as in ‘lovers,’” I ironised, shrugging.

“I didn’t want to put it that way, as you don’t seem too happy with your situation.”

“Anne, what do I do?” I asked, concerned.

“Oh, Harry–––she let out. You are so young and on top of the world right now. You’ll have time to worry about love in a couple of years. Just live.” I imagined her flicking her hand at me. How could she suggest this?

“I can’t,” I asserted, coming to sit by the edge of the bed.

“At this moment, do you really think you are in a position to get involved in a serious, committed relationship?–––Anne mused in a caring tone. Even if she wanted one, because I truly think it’s a matter of time, I don’t know if you could make it work.” I shook my head, suddenly dazed.

“Do you think she’ll settle down?” I forced myself to speak after a second.

“Of course–––she blurted. You might look at her and see pure sensuality, but she will feel the maternal instinct someday. And she’ll be the most complete woman…” I squirmed, distressed, rubbing my forehead.

“How could you tell me this and at the same time ask me to forget about her?–––I claimed, sounding quite hurt. You are tormenting me!” I was shuddering completely. The mere idea of Jeanne pregnant was far more than I could manage.

“Oh, Harry…–––Anne whispered tenderly and kept the same tone. You really want her… What do you see when you look at her?” Her question surprised me a bit but I sensed she was testing me. I took a large amount of air before I spoke.

“I see her grace,” I said earnestly, picturing a sequence of a thousand images of Jeanne. The way she walked. The way she leant back. The way she ruffled her hair… I couldn’t help but grin, and grinning I carried on. “How she does everything so naturally and beautifully… I see how she irradiates light like those suncatchers at ‘La biguine.’” God, I was missing her so much.

“But how long have you known each other?” My stomach churned in frustration.

“Do you think it really matters after all this?” I groaned, just to regret it a second later. Anne didn’t seem to mind, but when was I finally going to learn to control my emotions?

“I should have known it was this what was going on between the two of you, and I get why you are so attracted to each other–––Anne claimed, making me smirk. Her father always pictured her as quite a romantic, predisposed to a ‘coup de foudre,’ maybe because she has this chemical condition as he did.” I remembered Stan’s remark on that matter, and my heart raced inside my chest. “I think she has grown to be a bit cold–––she reluctantly spoke. She is a strong, independent woman, and she knows what she wants, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a heart,” she finally admitted. I dared to feel a bit more optimistic. “But now let me tell you, Harry, because I care about the two of you…” Her tone was so serious I started to get anxious. “The lovers’ deal only works if both are in the same frequency. Once one falls in love it should stop, or evolve into something else.” The words resounded through me as a gong. “Otherwise you can only get hurt.” I gulped hard at her warning. I didn’t have many chances left.

–.–.–

Notes

Did I ruin Jeanne's mystery to you? ;) So much information on this chapter. I know what you might be thinking, but don't be as Harry, constantly jumping into conclusions. Things aren't so easy! Look at the bigger picture! Though I won't mind if you share your ideas :)

Thank you so much for sharing your time with this story. We are so near the end, but I'll let you know. I don't want to catch you off guard. Your honest support and feedback help me work faster. Love you all!