Satine [ONGOING]

GABRIELLE (II)

It wasn't that this terrible thought had never crossed her mind that made her feel so sick. Of course Satine could have died. She could be long gone. Paris was an awful long way from Servoz. She could have slipped down in the mountains, made an unfortunate encounter on the roads, on a train, anywhere. In eight years she might have caught an illness. Anything could have happened to her since the last time she had seen her. What made her physically sick was the way her father said it with such conviction, not even a glimmer of hope. She stood by the door for a good moment in silence before retreating to her room, still unable to sleep. Morning came unbelievably quick, birds sang in their trees accompanying the light that seeped through Gabrielle' bedroom window. She pulled herself out of bed as soon as she thought it was reasonable for her to be awake. She opened her sister's wardrobe that day, instead of her own. Her clothes all still smelt like her: light and flowery. She picked out a small blue dress, that was the only one that she thought would fit her. It had a bit of a pattern on the skirt, small little dots of a lighter shade of blue made its way across the fabric. There was a picture up on the walls somewhere, no doubt higher than eye-level, so no one could linger on it for too long. As she went down the stairs, her mother greeted her from the kitchen with a cheery smile, having no idea what her daughter had heard. The forced grin boiled Gabrielle's blood. They were always pretending.

"Hello, maman." She said, quickly taking a glass from the cabinets and filling it up with water. Her mother turned to look at her and froze for a second, looking her up and down. Gabrielle put her glass down. "What?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She had hoped for this reaction, it was meticulously planned for her to say something about Satine, which she could then use as a segway into another conversation about what she had heard yesterday, but her mother simply shook her head.
"Nothing, ma puce."

Nothing. The words felt like an insult. Her mother smoothed her apron and got some butter out on the counter. "The dress suits you."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes and sighed, for once her mother paid it no mind. "Can you put the butter out on the table and maybe just talk to mamie for a bit. She's very chatty today." Gabrielle was forced to nod and do as she was told, abandoning her plans of addressing the elephant that has fossilised in this room over the years.

"Satine?" Her grand-mother said as the young girl came into view. Gabrielle smiled widely. Thank the lord for her grandmother's confused soul.
"No," She said kindly. "It's not Satine, I'm Gabrielle." She told her gently. Her mother came into the dining room just then, and her mother turned to her with her old tired eyes.
"Crazy isn't it, Lisette?" She asked, a light hum and muse to her voice. Marie-lise frowned.
"What is crazy, maman?" She asked, reaching for her hand over the table, thinking that for once she was actually lucid. In many ways she was not wrong.
"How much your daughters look alike, of course." She said, a small smile etched upon her lips. Gabrielle almost savoured watching her mother's face pale as she looked up at her. She straightened her posture innocently, in that blue dress. Marie-lise's face hardened.
"So they are." She said dryly, pretending that she struggled to see it. Gabrielle might have been blond, covered in freckles with hair cut near her jaw and Satine had always kept hers long, falling down her shoulders in a cascade of chestnut brown. At first glance they looked nothing alike, but those blue eyes, the sharp line of their chins, the round rosy cheeks, all those things were identical and no one knew Marie-lise of course. "Breakfast is ready, chérie, I'll fetch the boys." Gabrielle took a seat, quickly reaching for a piece of almost stale bread, aggressively cutting a piece of butter off to spread, not knowing what to do with her frustration following this pointless performative interaction. Paul was still in his pyjamas, rubbing his eyes as he sat down next to her. He was the only person Gabrielle gave a slight smile. She didn't even meet eyes with her father. She heard his light grunt as he sat down, and the way his chair creaked, but she could not look at him. The atmosphere was unbelievably tense, and though half of the people subject to it did not know why it was there, it made everyone uncomfortable. Ernest cleared his throat.