Through Adversity To The Stars

Chapter 8 - Rien N'est Éternel, Chérie

Like before but somehow different, the same sense that he wouldn't last even if that proved he would, not for a long time. I still possessed the doubt I had in the past; that he'd go. This was different, he was leaving for my Father, for Mr Knightley. The smile he wore wasn't the same as the one he gave me with his rehearsal, however they both appeared happy and that was who he was - happy.
Different place as I wove him off in my mind, not noticing me up from my window where I heard him for the first time, where I had admired his voice for the first time, where I wanted to know him for the first time. Memories of only two or three weeks seemed like forever and always I'd know him, however as Mother always said; "Rien n'est éternel, Chérie".
Ultimately; Alexander Saunders had no relation to I, Elizabeth Sutton, in which - there would never be a relation. Someone like Alexander was never going to keep in touch with someone like me. The confidence I had for myself in all was compared to the love you have for an enemy. Everything about me seemed to be the opposite of what I wanted for myself. In my eyes - Elizabeth Sutton was always going to be a nobody. Past friends made it clear that I was one to be betrayed, one to be abandoned, one to be treat as an obligation rather than anything more. Love, for them, was a weapon to use against me. They considered what I felt for a slight second. Anything more would of been a waste.

Alexander had made the only 2 to 3 weeks of my life feel less like it was easier to give up, he was worth searching for more from. A friendship I could carry that wouldn't let me down but then again - in comparison to Alexander, I was a nobody.

Mother and Father waved Alexander off in person, him reaching out of his window to do the same. Every part of me, except one, was in hope that his eyes wouldn't catch my gaze. The small bit? It was killing every bit of that hope for him to see me, to know I cared enough to say goodbye if not in person. The engine distanced itself, past the trees and the flowers that made the memory more vivid than I had predicted the night before - laid in bed, eyes staring at the ceiling in desperation that it would give me an answer on how one could deal with the passing by of the famous Alexander Saunders.

I collapsed on my bed, letting the sounds of Mother and Father state how much they would miss his presence. Alexander seemed to be at the house everyday, pleasing Mother with compliments and delighting Father with his negotiating skills and talent. Both of which seemed to admire a trait of Alexander - something about him sticking to their minds, mine also.
I felt silly to miss such a man as Alexander after two weeks of knowing about him properly, stupid to be so indulged in him. The feeling of being just like the girls that hadn't even met him, made eye contact with him, practised lines with him, touch noses with him - disappointed that I'd admire him in such a way that I'd hoped to be friends with at least, pathetic.

My eyes traced the room for something else to focus on, get my mind away from someone who I didn't feel like they'd come back. The door looked like he was about to knock on it and joke about something and flashing the same smile that he used in all situations. Not getting over the smile he gave me, it was unique to the others. I wondered what he was doing; if, in fact, that he was smiling, reading, looking at the sky, practising lines. All seemed plausible for him, what else could he exactly do in the car?
His mother stayed, taking care of the house, not letting it get lonely without him. It felt as though France itself would be uncomfortable in its known but now apparent lonesome.
Just below my window was the bench that he sat on, turned his head on, looked at the stars on, made eye contact with me on. A sentimental piece of Alexander Saunders if he was to be captured by a new manager.

A knock at my door was all it took for my body to jump up, "Elizabeth, darling, le déjeuner est à la table." Mothers voice became distant as she went back down the stairs, floorboards creaking as she went.
I made myself follow out of my room and into the garden as so did she. The table was holding all the gorgeousness of foods that I knew neither Mother or Father had made. "Tis a shame Alexander is gone, what a lovely boy he is." I took my seat next to Mother, Father at the head of the table.

He nodded, "he will be back very soon, though. Alexander said he would be working extremely hard to get back in time before the Summer's sun has to go." Father lathered his cracker in humous, putting green olives on top. I hadn't reached for anything, just listening in for what they were saying.

"Oh, Elizabeth, Alexander wanted to give this to you before he left," Mother reached across the table for a piece of paper, words typed on it. She placed it in my fingers, holding onto its soft sides, coffee rings at the top corner. It seemed to be the sheet of lines of which we practised in his room. I tensed my jaw, desperately holding in my level of gladness from Mother and Father, not wanting them to even remotely get the impression that I enjoyed his presence as much as they did.

Father munched on his lunch before questioning, "what is it?"

Hesitant on what to say I kept my mouth shut, admiring the lines that we had spoken to one another. Letting my thumb brush over the spot I presumed he had once touched with his. I breathed out all the air I had in my chest before answering, "nothing special." I try my best to smile and fold it, slipping it under my plate so it doesn't float away.