Satine [ONGOING]

GABRIELLE (VII)

Gabrielle enjoyed the early hours of the festivities, the music finally began, her friends were there to talk to her and surround her with their usual nonsense and cheerfulness, but the cousins eventually were called to help their parents, with the lamb to make sure their winning prospects were as high as could be. Gabrielle sort of wanted to join them, but in the end she had to admit to herself she knew nothing about it. She was the rich townie of this small village. It was a miracle if you ever saw her, dresses dirtied going up the mountain, taking care of sheep was where her mother would draw a stiff line. She was forced to stand by the Decroz' lemonade stand for a while, occasionally looking over at her mother playing the piano across the field. She smiled at her for once, because seeing her with the musical instrument did not fuel resentment, given she had finally agreed to teach her how to play and as it turns out, Gabrielle like the rest of her family had a gift for it. Though, she found it difficult not to think of Satine when some dances played. She wished to find Paul in the midst of the crowd but he was so busy playing marbles with his friends that she didn't necessarily feel the need to disturb him. She bit her lip, after three lemonades, her fingers prickled with boredom.
"Gabrielle," The deep voice of her father came up behind her.
"Papa." She acknowledged, at the sight of his stern eyes she instinctively turned away.

Gabrielle felt a chill run down her spine as her father's shadow loomed over her. She forced herself to smile, trying to hide the unease that always accompanied his presence, especially recently, since she had been misbehaving.

"Enjoying the festivities?" he asked, his tone more of an obligation than genuine curiosity.

"Yes, Papa. The music is lovely," she replied, her voice steady but lacking warmth. She wishes she could speak with him as her friends spoke to their fathers, or uncles, but it simply didn't feel right. After hearing his whispered conversations with her mother, and enduring his many boring dreary monologues about things she disagreed on, it didn't necessarily make her adore him.

He nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Good. It's important for you to be seen here, with the family."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" She asked, trying exceptionally hard not to roll her eyes.

"You know, you're our daughter, and—"
"And the other one was so awful you wish to show me off." She muttered sarcastically. Her father stiffened. Gabrielle bit her lip trying not to regret her sly remark, the familiar feeling of confinement closing in on her. She glanced over at her mother, still playing the piano, and then back at her father. The words she had been holding back for years threatened to spill over. The older man did not dignify it with a response, but Gabrielle could feel his anger.

"Papa," she began, unable to cast the bitterness in her tone away, "What did you say to Satine, before she left?"

Her father's eyes darkened instantly. "Gabrielle, we've discussed this." He rubbed his hands together, a clear sign of his discomfort and frustration.

"No, we haven't," she replied softly. "It's been eight years and we have never discussed it. What really happened?"

Her father's expression hardened. "This is not the time nor the place."

"When will it ever be the time or place?" she asked urgently, fighting to keep her tone even. "She was my sister. She is my sister. I just want to understand. None of you will ever let me understand will you?"

"You," he hesitated. "You have no such right, no more than the rest of us Gabrielle, I do not understand either," he hissed, his voice low and threatening. "Satine made her choices, and she faced the consequences. That is all I know, and therefore all we get to understand."

Gabrielle felt a surge of frustration. "You know something! I know it! I've lived with the feel of it for eight years! You understand perfectly well but you don't want to tell us–"

"Enough!" he snapped, his face flushing with anger. "You will not speak of this again."

"I will!"

His face remained stony, but his eyes flickered with something she couldn't quite read. "This conversation is over." He left her then, by the lemonade stand. Gabrielle downed her bitter glass and placed the glass on the table. "Merci," She said to the older man behind it, busy pressing new lemons for juice. She followed her father with a rapid pace, pushing past a few small circles of people. "Pardon." she said to them all politely as they made terrible faces at her. She reached her hand to grasp her father's shoulder.

Gabrielle's frustration was about to boil over as she forced him to turn and face her. "I just want to understand, Papa. It feels like there's something you're not telling all of us. Or at least Paul and I, I've heard you and mum have quite extensive whispering secret sharing sessions in the evening. Why can't you just say it?"

His jaw tightened. "Because it is none of your concern." Gabrielle wanted to throw her hands out and scream in frustration like a toddler but instead she let him go, and stood somewhat frozen. She had never felt such hate.She didn't know if she was overreacting but it certainly was not a pleasant feeling. Suddenly, just past the lamb behind the large tree across the road, a small group of her classmates caught her eye. The Decroz brothers and the butcher's daughter all with unusually large grins. Her jaw dropped as she understood, and then her expression slowly morphed into a satisfied grin. They had just what she needed: some form of alcohol. A perfect way to have some more fun, or perhaps to just not think of much at all, but most importantly, annoy her parents. She slowly made her way toward the small group, making sure her mother did not look u[ from her piano and notice her. She didn;t want the others to be discovered.

"Hey," Their eyes widened like terrified animals at the sight of her. "Care to share some of it?" She threw her hands out into the air theatrically and slowly, they all nodded. 

KEY:

Pardon: sorry