Distant Star (A Short Story)

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PARIS, 1914

Amelie's Point of View

HAVE you ever fallen in love with a distant star? Because I certainly did. I am Amelie Martin, and this is my love story.

Bustling streets, clinking glasses of wine, and the nouveau riche throwing money around like worthless confetti. This was Paris in 1914. Men were gathering together, reading their newspapers and smoking cigarettes, propped against phone stands, and waiting for pretty girls to cross the street. Women were parading, adorned in clothes with jewels sewn into the fabrics. I did not belong among them - I was far beneath their world. I was a struggling artist who used to sit in front of the Eiffel Tower, holding a paintbrush in my left hand and two francs in my right. I was not earning anything, and I knew I had to do whatever it took to put food on the table.

I swallowed my pride and made the decision to leave my palette behind in order to apply for a job as a maid for the Laurent Family, a prominent family in Paris. The patriarch had been a successful Parisian business owner who had married an American heiress. Together, they had a son named Gabriel Laurent. Gabriel had emerged as a rising actor in various French silent films, gaining popularity and attracting a swarm of Parisian girls. During the application process, Gabriel's parents asked me several questions about my background. I could only respond that I was an orphan fortunate enough to have artistic skills. Witnessing my eagerness to accept the position, they granted me the opportunity to work for them.

I was assigned to work on Gabriel's wardrobe. Using my taste in art, I selected stylish clothes and colors that matched his heavenly aura. I used to clothe him with fine vests and shirts of my choice, and whenever I felt his broad shoulders, he would give me a gentle smile. I was trying my best to compose myself whenever he would do that, maintaining my professional demeanor. There was even one instance when he chased after me while I was done buttoning his shirt, just to express his gratitude and kiss my hand.

Day by day, our bond grew closer, like two attractive magnetic poles drawing together, and I found myself lying wide awake, realizing I had fallen in love with him. Despite our connection, I dismissed the idea of him reciprocating the deep feelings I held dear. He seemed like a distant star in the heavens, while I was merely dust here on Earth. He was shining so brightly, but he was out of reach. The standards of Parisian society made it impossible for a man born into privilege to marry a girl of humble origins. I believed our bond was purely that of friendship and nothing more, but that was where I was mistaken.

He and his parents engaged in a heated argument, causing him to erupt in anger and lay blame on them for treating him like a slave. It was in that moment that I learned he was not getting anything from the money he was making and that his parents had exploited him since his days as a child actor. It marked the first time I witnessed him consumed by rage, and I went after him to at least give him a listening ear and a helping hand. He attempted to drown himself in the sea of intoxication, but I intervened and embraced him to give solace, and he then wept like a child while grasping my gentle touch.

"I want to leave this gilded cage and forsake my millions to feel your eternal embrace. We will marry, witness our children laughing and growing up, and we will have a simple, yet a life filled with joy and fulfillment. I must humbly ask, Madame Amelie: Will you, like a shooting star in the night sky, run away with me?"

I was shocked, unable to believe what he had just said. Initially, I thought he was joking, but he was not. It turned out that he had fallen for me too, and the feelings were mutual. Paris, for me, was a city where dreams thrived - a place where I nurtured my ambitious imagination to become a renowned artist. However, for him, it was a city of chains, a place where he longed to break free from the shackles of fame and abuse. Fueled by passion and with nothing to lose, I agreed to leave the city with him.

On Valentine's Day of 1914, we secretly departed from Paris and made the decision to relocate to the province of Calais. I, an eighteen-year-old woman, went on this journey with the man who was once my employer and now my lover. He, on the other hand, was not able to bring anything with him but himself, yet nothing seemed to matter to us, for with each other's presence, we were like living a dream.