le bonheur de vivre

12

it was the following morning and the event hadn't removed itself from her head yet, despite her best efforts at distracting herself. It scratched at her, grappled with her, whispered weak pleas in her ear. And there was nothing she could do about it.

It was as if she was being pulled down from her pedestal, from her very own mount Oympus, her corporeal power having begun the process of being stripped.

It might have seemed trivial, but this possession, this power of hers that she had just begun to lose, the idea, obsession with it, was birthed from one read of Salome. She had begged her mother to bring her to America to see the opera, but her mother wouldn't allow it. The storyline disgusted her mother, but not Elodie.

See Salome, the main character, stepdaughter of the tetrarch Herod, was a beautiful young woman. Her stepfather, Herod, who was a dominant and authoritarian figure in their society, lusts after her. He promises anything, if it even be half the kingdom, for her to dance for him.

That feminine, alluring power that Salome possessed was higher than even the power of her father's over the kingdom. It was almost ethereal.

And that power seemed above everything else to Elodie. And she knew she had it, she had used it before. But no one had ever abused it, at least not like last night. She had lost some part of it with that abuse.

"Elodie are you coming or not?", her mother shouted at her, in a rather irritated manner, from the car.

Elodie grunted, knowing knowing inside that her mother had every right to be irritated. Elodie had woken at 11, the time at which they should have been leaving the house to visit the possible villa for the Mitchell's.

Springing up from the kitchen table, she put her bowl of cereal in the sink before kicking on her flip flops. The whole ensemble sat in the car, and her mother looked out the window with her face scrunched up. It wasn't a good look.

Elodie opened the door to her normal back left seat. This time Dora was sitting in the middle and Alexander on the right. She shuffled in, careful to not get her muddy shorts on Dora's baby blue dress.

Julie accelerated the car out of the drive and onto the main road in a swift motion. And off they went, rumbling up and down the roads towards Gustavia, where the bay neighboured shell beach.

There was something solemn about the car ride. Something passive, nervous, something trembling in her head. She didn't look out the window. She had seen what was out there enough.

She focused on the people in the car, for they seemed more intriguing than the dense green outside. Alexander had laid his arm across Dora's neck, dangling his hand next to Elodie's ear. Dora had her hand on his leg. Julie tapped her foot three times at precisely every left turn. It was curious what one can discover when trying to distract oneself.

The car came to a stop. Her obsessive observation had proved successful at passing the time.

They got out at the gate. The house wasn't modern, unlike expected. More like a Victorian colonial style. She liked it. It was painted in Naples yellow. It reminded her of the Mediterranean. Of their olive trees and vineyards.

"Isn't it lovely," Julie proclaimed as she neared the door and knocked twice. A fresh young man came to the door.

"This is Josh, he manages the house."

Her mother smiled.

"So young and your already selling houses," she said, looking him up and down.

"Funny, isn't it," he said in a British accent. He pulled his t-shirt straight and moved out of the doorway as to let them enter.

Elodie kept her eye on him. He was a pretty boy, with eyelashes that she wanted. His face was soft and cheeky, his demeanour generous and gentle. He was of a similar body type to Garrett, only with more flesh. She hadn't seen him before.