To my Dearest Friend

Beauty

I'm walking in the gardens of Émile's estate. He's holding my hand 'What if your father sees it?' I ask. He smiles. 'He wouldn't mind, he'd turn a blind eye.' 'Really?' I ask, very surprised. He nods and pecks me on the cheek. I smile. I still think he's beautiful and I desire him but there's a deep black hole in my chest everytime I whisper sweet nothings into his ear. It's like i'm talking to a ghost, like I'm loving nothingness. And the problem is I want to love Émile, I really do, with all my heart. I want to give him what he needs. I look at my Signet ring, I wear it on my little finger but Yves has always worn it on his ring finger. He prefers it. It's also a sign he's not willing to marry because yes and older married gentleman shall wear it on his left ring finger but we have to do it on our right little finger. It's so difficult I look at the signet ring I'm wearing, it's the one I got from Yves, I wear it almost every single day. It's my way of always having a piece of him with me. I love him, I still do. I know that but I don't think I can love him anymore. Émile looks at me and I smile at him, it feels constantly as if I'm being dishonest with him. 'you look beautiful today.' He says softly. I can't help but hear Yves. 'As do you.' I answer, He looks at me, even the way he looks at me mimics Yves. My mind is tricking me into loving him while still having this immense guilt I feel everytime I look at him. I feel like I'm not really here, I wish this was a dream. I feel so detached. Émile is telling me something and I'm pretending to listen. He looks at me again why are his damned eyes so beautiful? I grab his collar and kiss him, shamelessly, passionately. I don't even care that my mind transforms his white hair in Yves dark hair, I don't care, he is my last sliver of sanity. My last slither of hope. My last slither of him. How ironic, I replaced my Yves with somebody I can't love without loving him.

I wake up, I still think I'm in London every time I wake up. The hand on my hip makes me smile but that smile fades when I remember it's not him. I feel a tears rolling down my temple unto the pillow. How did I ruin my lire by following my dreams? I ruined everything I still loved and now I'm in a foreign country. And with my actions I ruined his life too. How I Why do I leave everyone an in an utter wasteland of ruins. Why do I feel the need to? Why does my presence in a life destroy everything. It's like I'm cursed. I should live somewhere deep in the woods not allowing anybody to come close to me because I'll ruin their life too. I feel myself trembling. I stand up. 'Where are you going?' He asks still half asleep I put on a blouse. I sigh and walk down the stairs. It's so early that the sun did not rise yet. But still the father or Émile is sipping coffee in the sitting room. 'Sir?' He looks up. 'May I use one of your horses?' He nods. 'Be careful it can get cold' he says. I nod. I get a horse. it's white one. I start riding into the woods. I don't want to think. I don't want to think! Stop thinking! I stumble upon a steep wall that will probably lead up to a hill or mountain. I close my eyes and remember the time Yves taught me how to rock climb, he has done it with his sister in the dolomites and alps. I can't remember everything but how hard can it me. I tie the horse to a tree. I look at the chateau, you can see the sun beginning to shine upon its gardens. I take a deep breath and there we go. Yves said that the most important thing is not thinking too much and trusting your body. The rocks feel rough against my skin. I know Yves always used pitons and other things but I don't have those sort of things. My teeth are clenching and I feel I'm not thinking anymore. It feels strangely freeing beings so afraid to fall that your body does nothing else than go on. It feels freeing to trust nothing except your human instinct. When I arrive at the top the bright sun shine it's orange light in my face. It warms me. The air on top of the hill is colder than down there but the contrast with the sun that caresses your skin creates the perfect circumstances to feel a alive. I look over the valley. How sickeningly beautiful. I look at the world, is this how Ives might have seen it every day? I wond wonder. I want to see it like this every morning but with him. There must be God, there must be, with all this beauty its not possible for him not to be here. 'Am I interrupting?' Someone says. I turn around, it's christiane. 'No not at all.' She smiles and looks at the dawn. She doesn't say a word but I know what she's thinking.. ' you forgot rope, you couldn't get down without it.' she says. I didn't know what she was thinking.

'Really?' she nods. 'I took some handy things with me.' she says. I nod. 'You don't love him do you?' she asks out of the blue. I look at her. 'Whatever are you talking about?' I say acting surprised. 'you have an incredibly thick skull, you and Émile and romantically involved, just like me and Lady Grey.' 'Wait what?' She sighs. 'Yes, it's also possible that way. Do I need to tell you everything?' 'I had no idea.' 'You're avoiding the question.'  I sigh this time. I feel tears flooding my eyes. 'Perhaps not.' he nods. 'He's back in England right?' I look at the ground and sit down. She nods, and hand me a flask with whiskey. 'Life is complicated Cyril, we don't have to make it more complicated by refusing to give into our feelings.' 'It's not that easy christian, it's not possible to love the same gender. God made us to love the other gender.' 'God makes mistakes.' She says while taking a sip of the whiskey. 'Surely he doesn't' 'Look at me, everything about me is perfect to be a male, what am I? a lady. Well I don't mind it, I'm just a Christiane, not a male or female and I shall love my beautiful darling whether she is female or male.' 'So you're saying one in our relationship is not male?' She sighs. 'No that's just how it is with us, loving is not assigned to gender, we love the people we love and we shouldn't be afraid of it' 'So what are you saying.' 'Get more comfortable with loving him. I don't know if you're capable of that with your real heart still in london. Just don't hurt him you hear me?' She says, I laugh. 'Thank you, you might've helped me a lot.' We look over the trees. It's so rare and so common to exist. How would the not be a perfect God? Maybe if there is a perfect god yves is my perfect partner. Maybe it has never been a mistake, maybe he is simply mine and I am simply his. Maybe our hearts are intertwined. Maybe I won't be able to live without him. Maybe that is okay. Maybe will be okay.

I hope we'll be okay.