MUSE // A Harry Styles Story

The Return

"Wherever I go.... You bring me home."

A perfect lyric for the moment, Lia thought, humming along as she pulled her truck into the driveway under the late afternoon sun.

The cottages around her had all started out the same: small, prefabricated, two-bedroom vacation homes. From there, each evolved into something completely unique as families added terraces, extra rooms, even a second floor here and there. Some stood out with crazy paint schemes, others were very sleek and modern, and some faded into the shadows.

The LaRoche cottage was the colors of the south of France, with soft ochre red walls and bleached turquoise trim. Curtains of crisp white printed with flowers in shades of clear blue, grass green, and warm yellow fluttered in the breeze as she opened the windows.

Lia's mother had been a whiz on the sewing machine. Curtains, table linens, covers on the chairs and sofa, all in cheerfully mismatched Provençal  fabrics, had been made right there in the living room or on the terrace. 

For Lia's entire life it had been a place of happy bustle, full of love and laughter. Until this summer. Without Maman, the heart and soul of the house would be missing, she thought. And now, standing in the living room, she realized that this would be her first summer completely alone.

The only thing greater than the loss she felt for Maman was the anger she felt toward Papa.

His explanation, that he couldn't stay in their hometown of Valroux because it was too painful, just wasn't enough for Lia. In her anger she had shut him out almost entirely.

During the year, Lia taught in Paris, but her summer vacations had always been spent in the Mediterranean beach town of Pampelonne. Although windsurfing wasn't as fashionable a sport as it had been when her father was breaking speed records years ago, she was able to fill her summers as a sought-after instructor.

Her clients were a mix of teenage girls, businessmen from Paris and Lyon, foreigners enjoying the French Riviera, and even some of the rich and famous who summered in seaside villas nearby. She traveled to those particular clients, taking the boards and rigs in the truck. Everyone else met her on the beach just across the street from her neighborhood.

She had taken her groceries inside and was back out for her luggage when a happy cry came from nearby.

"Lia!"

Mariam lived year-round in the cottage next door with her son. Having fled a harrowing life in West Africa, She now made a happy one for herself, running a busy café on the beach.

"I didn't expect you until tomorrow at the earliest. What a joy!" The women embraced. "You must have left Paris at dawn to be here by sunset."

Lia sighed, "I did. I just wanted to be here. I didn't even stop at Valroux on the way. Papa's not there, and even if he was... the only thing for me there is sadness, so why go?"

"I understand. Leave it be for some time and then go back and see how you feel. It will never be the same without your maman, but it is the home of your childhood. I left much fear and sadness behind me as well, but someday I'll return to Africa. The place of one's birth is always in the soul."

"Mariam, you are wise beyond your years."

"Well, they have been full years. Full of making sure that boy does his chores before he leaves the house!" Her voice rose as a lanky teenager came out of the cottage next door.

"I'm finished, Maman, and I won't be out late. I'm just going to the café with Emmanuel and Laurent." He trotted toward the beach.

"He's grown again! Sixteen last November?" Mariam nodded and Lia shook her head. "Time does fly."