The Scent of Mimosa

Cǒte d'Azur

Cassandra's hair blew in wild tangles as the Porsche swung down through the quaint town of Mougins and on towards the Mediterranean. Down below them, the Isles de Lérins seemed to float in the glistening blue waters. Vince was driving fast, probably too fast, but she didn't care. There was a pristine sky above her, and the warm wind on her face carried the scent of salt-spray and suntan oil. This was freedom.

Her mind strayed to the last time she had taken the road down to the coast. It had been so long ago she couldn't quite remember the occasion. She had lost track of when she had last even left Grasse. The loss of everything that had meant anything in her life had left her sinkingly insecure. She hadn't wanted to go out or to see the world. She hadn't wanted to leave her comfort zone at all.  

She told herself that she only wanted to stay home and be left in peace, but it was all an excuse, nothing but compensation. As the distance between herself and her home grew, she realised that it felt like less of a threat and more of a reprieve from the shackles that had been weighing her down. She felt enervated.

Every so often, Vince would turn to her and meet her smile, but mostly they didn't talk as they drove. It was comfortable that way, and Cassandra was glad when he veered east outside the bustling port of Cannes, leaving all the jostling boulevards and imported sand behind and heading towards Monaco. She was grateful that Vince intended a longer drive this morning and was happy to enjoy the ride and his company for as long as possible. 

They stopped at the old fishing harbor in Antibes to buy pain bagnat and then continued past Nice, along the corniche, and finally down the sun-soaked cliffside of Villefranche, where they could see the turquoise bay studded with a hundred sailing boats below.

As Vince pulled the car up, Cassandra looked about her. It was Cap Ferrat, yacht basin and billionaire's playground. She gazed over the wooded peninsula where, between the Aleppo pines, palm trees and cedars of Lebanon, the crenulated red tiles of secluded mansions protruded. As memories flooded through her, she was struck by a surge of pain that was visceral.

Vince was closing up the car, putting on a backpack and preparing to set off down the sea-side walkway when he noticed Cassandra looking piqued.

''Are you alright?'' he asked, his hand automatically rising to her shoulder.

She swallowed and shook her head. ''It's been a long time, that's all. We used to come here when I was a child. My grandfather would take a house for the summer sometimes and my mother and I would stay with them for months at a time. Without my father around they were glorious days.''  

She could feel the unshed tears welling behind her eyes as she remembered the sun-soaked patio of the villa, lunching on her favorite salade Niçoise, and her mother reclining on a lounger in the shade – the anguish that was her usual burden absent for once.

Vince was watching her closely. His eyes studied her face so intently they seemed to look beyond her skin, to see what she was seeing – her memories, her pain.

''You know, Cassandra,'' he said slowly after a while. ''You may find it hard to believe, but I envy you your childhood,'' he grimaced. ''I know that it wasn't easy, but at least you have happy memories to counter the bad ones. Your mother cherished you, your grandparents adored you. Me? There are times I think my parents hardly noticed I existed at all. I would have killed for one fraction of the attention any of them lavished on you.''

''Oh Vincent,'' she began, ''I am so sorry... I didn't mean...''

''It's ok. It's ok,'' he quietened her. ''I learned to accept it years ago, to move on from there, and do you know what I found? I discovered that there was a whole world out there waiting to be conquered – a world where I could write my own stories, create my own future. There is no harm in looking back at yesterday, but don't let it stop you from reaching out for tomorrow.'' He took her hand firmly and led her along the twisted pathway flanking the sea.