Satine [ONGOING]

SATINE (XII)

Satine spent a few days recluse inside the house, not wishing to step foot outside because her sister Gabrielle had no shame in telling her that half the village was whispering and gossiping about her and about Madeleine, it amazed her how most of it circled around the poor child as if she wasn't an innocent infant. She decided she would just wait before showing her face anywhere, letting all the rumours cool off before even facing them, though she knew that whenever she decided to reappear in the eyes of the village, the gossip would revive, casting its new flame, her presence would relight a glowing splint. Though for the time being, she was happy inside her house doing close to nothing for days on end, healing slowly from her blisters and the exhaustion that rooted itself deep in her body. That was the appealing part of her action plan moving forward. However, her plan had a monumental flaw, for while staying inside, she ended up spending much more time than she wished in close proximity to her father. He didn't speak to her about anything but practical things, if she wanted to prepare lunch or dinner, sometimes warning her that he would be out of his office for example. She noticed that he could not bear to look her in the eye, which despite the fact she never expected anything else, still stung somewhere deep down. He was exceptionally cold toward Florence too, even as she took on doing most of the household chores in a futile effort to prove herself to the family she had squeezed herself into and shake the feeling that she was burdening them. Satine knew the hate and the disgust in her father's gaze. It boiled her blood to see it again, it boiled her blood to watch him as he thought he knew exactly what went on between the two of them, when really he had no idea. He couldn't possibly imagine the warm flush of her cheeks at Florence's touch, the smile that tugged at her lips whenever she heard her laugh, the way she had longed for her so awfully long, because he was not capable of feeling such things, something he had proven on multiple occasions. He knew nothing, and yet he gave himself the right to judge, to hate. She was grateful he kept it to himself, for the sake of her mother, who quickly came to love Florence as a friend of her daughter's, nothing more. The truth would have torn her apart, Satine knew she could be just as bad, if not worse than her father in the face of things like these. To take her mind off things she played the piano for at least an hour a day. She could hear her father grumble from his office on the top floor when the tune was too rapid and intense for his liking. Madeleine loved it, she would sit on the floor, her back straightened, slightly wobbly, as her eyes glistened with interest watching. Florence would often sit by her side, her legs crossed on the ground, hovering around the child to make sure a slight draught didn't throw her off balance. Their unison laughter brought Satine some joy and reprieve from her thoughts of her father, and her memories of all those she wasn't sure she could face quite yet. Her old friends, or even Lydie, whom in many ways she had callously abandoned. She thought of her often. She wondered if her older sister lived in the area, she wondered if her parents ever found out about them. Though she didn't necessarily feel a burning all consuming love toward her anymore, she missed her voice and her laugh and also the way she would skip ahead happily whenever they went out on a walk. She wondered if she still did that at the ripe age of twenty-two. In between doing the dishes and making the bed as the days went on, she devised a plan to go see her. She made an entire speech in her head for her, and if she wasn't still living at her parent's house, which she hoped selfishly was not the case, she had a few questions for her parents as well, and an explicatory monologue for them too. She realised in the morning that she would be forced to bring Madeleine as she gave her a bottle. The tiny child's sticky fingers clung to the bottle, her eyes gazing up at her innocently and she came to the rather common conclusion that she could not leave her here unattended and her mother had obviously decided to take Florence with her to discover the village, which at this stage was just an excuse to get out of the house and ask her questions about her unconventional and exciting life. Satine couldn't help but smile at the twinkle in her mother's eye when Florence occasionally spoke of what her life used to look like, it was something different, something miles away from the one Marie-Lise had led. At times Satine found it sad to recognise her craving for discoveries and freedom in her mother, who was so unbelievably caged, and had been for years, even more now when no one could even get to Chamonix without permission.