To my Dearest Friend

Home again and a goodbye

Cyril Courteney 

The carriage passes through the gates of our estate. I look at it, it is beautiful, that much I know but every time I see it I feel like I am about to throw up. I wonder why? What am I afraid of? Perhaps the memories, I shake my head in disbelief. I am thinking too much. I guess it doesn't matter how much I think. Life will go on anyway.

I step out of the carriage and enter the manor. 'I am home' I say while shutting the door. There is a deathly silence as I walk into the sitting room. My father is sitting there, drinking a cup of tea. 'I am back from Paris.' I say with a smile but he doesn't even look at me, there's not even an acknowledgement of my existence. It's like he can see right through me, as if I am a ghost. As If I am not his son, his only son. 'I brought you some cheese and wine from France.' I say. No answer. I take a deep breath and try not to cry. 'I will be bringing it to the kitchen. Are yp you done with your tea?' He puts his teacup down and I intrepret that as a yes. I pick it up and bring it down to the kitchen.

The staff is already working on dinner. 'Good afternoon everybody.' I say with a smile. Alice, the head of the kitchen gasp and exclaims 'Cyril!' I smile as she hugs me, the flour on her hands leaves white imprints on my clothes and cheeks as she grabs them. 'What a nice surprise!' She says and the rest of the kitchen agrees. 'Here, I took some cheese for all of you' I say so while I hand them out. 'I hope you'll like them' I say. 'We are happy you are back Cyril, it was awfully quiet without you and Yves.' My face drops but I manage to smile again and nod. 'I hope the joy  will return' I say with a smile. She nods.

I grab my gardening tools from the shed. I feel my tear fall onto the bedding of the flowers. I hate being back home. Well, I do enjoy being back in England but I hate the fact that I need to be near somebody who despises me so truly and maliciously, I still have no clue why. I cut a rose. I know I shouldn't but I do not care. I feel a sharp pain in my hand as the knife accidentally glides into my finger. The crimson red thread of my lise spilla out like my emotiose do. I look at it, interested in the evidence of life. Interested in the physical pain of being. I smile, this feels like something he would say, or think at least. The white rose is stained by the beautiful red. He hates roses so much but he would adore the sight of this too. I am absolutely sure of it.

Yves Montague

I am standing in front of Katherine's house. My heart is beating in my throat. I feel like my face in paralysed and I cannot produce anything near a normal expression. Katherina opens the door and her expression softens as soon as she sees me. She smiles. 'May I come in?' I ask. of course, She says with a smile.

 We sit down in the sitting room and she pours a cup of tea for me. I take it. I take a deep breath, don't dare look her in her beautiful eyes. 'I am so sorry for what happened yesterday... I...I do not know what came over me. I' I sigh, I don't know what to say, I can't explain my whole life just so I won't have to feel guilty again. How do I explain this to her. 'It is alright dear Yves, perhaps we are not meant to be.' She says with a smile as she touches my hand.

I need to concentrate not to flinch. I smile but there are tears of silence in my eyes, silence that will never be heard. The wishes of being normal, the hopes of the love I could adore freely. I do not want to let go of her too, I thought she would be my saviour but now, now I think she might be the one to bring me down. But can I blame her? I cannot, it is all my own fault. It is all because of my foolish desire to be normal again. Again? When have I ever been normal.

'I am going back to England Katherina, I cannot stay here, I do not think..... I think' I stutter. I close my eyes full of tears and I feel her arms around me in a hug that could express more love than any kiss ever. She holds me as if the last human contact she will ever have, the last person on earth to exist. I'm trembling as I try not to cry. I beg her not to say those three words that can build somebody up and tear them down again. I wish that the poetry of words would stop, I wish that it would be forbidden to express something as dangerous as that. but alas, I do not have control over this sea of emotions.

'I could've predicted that this wouldn't work' She says with a kind but bittersweet smile. 'Why?' I ask her, almost begging for another chance. 'You are too good Yves, too pure, too fragile, too beautiful." I feel the tears stream down my cheeks as she kisses my forehead, I look at the time. Deperate to flee this cage of sadness. I stand up 'I am sorry, I should go' She smiles as she walks me to the door. There we look eachotjer in the eye with a strange longing, perhaps for the last time ever, and than she whispers: 'Yvie, I have loved you, I promise. Thank you for these delights.' She swiftly pecks me on the cheek before waving me goodbye. 'You're welcome to send letters,' She looks at my face and adds. 'Platonicly' She smiles and I wave at her. Looking at her for a last time.