Sorrow | 18+

31 Distracted

A song to listen to: Sans toi by Lenie

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Vivienne, 5 years later

I was blinded immediately when the clouds disappeared. The sudden sunlight made me stick my finger with the sharp needle I was using and a small blood drop rose to the surface of my skin. The metallic taste blended with lingering traces of green apples I had sliced for myself. The last pieces were turning brown on the small plate on my sewing table. I kept my finger on my mouth for a second, making sure the blood didn't mess the white fabric.

I woke up from the deep concentration. A clock on the right wall stated I should have been finishing up already. The warm light casted away every shadow on my small rented studio. I had ordered a large wooden desk to be situated in front of the window which allowed me to gaze at the roaring river and have the natural light brighten up the place. A drawer was under the cloak, bursting with needles, yarns and fabrics. On the left wall was the entryway and a small mirror to admire yourself or your clothes. I also had a sink, mini fridge and countertop space for snacking on the wall opposite of the window and of course a door to a small bathroom where you barely fit to sit down on the toilet. I had decorated everything in floral patterns, which had Zara not believe her eyes. She enjoyed more neutral, muted colours and the brown fluffy round carpet was the item she had sneaked in the studio.

It was a wooden house, built centuries ago and later divided into small units for people to rent for different purposes. Old door frames didn't make it accessible, the plank floor always creaked under my feet and the light blue floral wallpapers were a bit outdated, but it all formed a unique atmosphere. It allowed me to disappear in my mind there.

I fixed clothes, sewed together holes in favourite jackets and shortened jeans that were otherwise perfect, helped people to have clothes to last. I didn't have many customers yet. Baby steps I had decided. I hadn't touched a sewing machine in two years. Then Éléonore's dress had ripped a little and I didn't want to get rid of it. It was therapeutic to get back to the thing I had always loved. I was getting back a piece of me. Relearning who I was. Or simply learning for the first time.

The face of Zara when I made her first dress for a long time was priceless. She started crying immediately, which scared Éléonore a bit. And afterwards she demanded a matching dress with her favourite aunt. Also I had made a third one as my baby wanted to have a tea party where we all dressed the same.

My eyes travelled to the picture taken that day, situated on the windowsill. Real joy behind the huge smiles fluttered my heart always. I traced her small face. She was so independent, stubborn, outspoken, which worried me. Was it my fault? She was only 4 years old and hoped she could be careless, loved. Not independent because I was lacking. I wanted something else for her than my childhood.

She might just have inherited those traits of personality, that was what Zara had suggested. From her aunt, from her maman. Not a sign of my failure, simply who she was. It might even be a piece of him she was carrying. Éléonore was an exact copy of me, her face had my features, she walked and stood like me which Zara pointed out and laughed. Then there were the moments when my baby was concentrating on something and she looked like him. When her black hair was tied up, I got glimpses of him. How her eyes startled me if I woke up from a dream and she had climbed to my bed. I whispered to her things about him when she was sleeping. She didn't ask, she was still happy with just me. She couldn't miss someone she didn't know to exist.

I rolled myself away from the desk and stretched my body after being hunched over the fabric for too long. My shoulders ached, my mind spiralled too deep. A nervous energy was tickling under my skin. I picked my lukewarm green tea to tip the remaining drops to the sink. Dishes weren't calling for my name, but I had time to spend. Rather my timetable was too narrow to go to do the groceries before I had to pick up my baby but if I left now I would arrive too early. And she hated to cut her playtime.