The Last Dress from Paris(108)
You were everything to me. However much you gave me, I wanted more. I helped myself to every part of you, and then, when you asked me to simply stand by what I had done, where was I? I failed you.
I was afraid, Alice—of failing you in the same way I failed to achieve so many other things. I was convinced that I couldn’t become the man you needed me to be, that I would once again fall short of expectations. That somehow our love would sour, you would hate me for it, and both our lives would be full of regret. It was easier to do nothing, to pretend none of it was happening, to let forces beyond me decide, while you shouldered all the darkness alone.
I have replayed the day you came to my apartment and I refused to speak to you over and over in my mind. I felt your anguish burrow into my heart, where it rightly stayed, tormenting me, reminding me every day of my weakness. You gave me the chance to be better and I wasted it. For months I wondered how you could ever have loved the man I was.
The day you left Paris was the day I lost everything, just as I deserved to. I lost you, our baby, any respect I had for myself, the future we could have had, and my passion for my work. The sketches I did of you were by far my best. Nothing else ever came close. Once you left, there was nothing to inspire me or fill me with confidence, and the limitations of my talent became glaringly apparent. My days are long, empty, and unproductive. All this time to think of you, turning your earring over and over in my fingers, torturing myself with images of you the night you left it here. But still I did nothing. I told myself you would build a better life. You are strong. You won’t allow yourself to fail, as I did.
For another year, I stayed in Saint-Germain. I used to sit outside our church and listen to the bells ringing, just to remind me of you. In the beginning I hoped I’d look up and see you there—that you would make it easy by appearing before me, our baby in your arms. My cowardice was breathtaking. When I finally accepted you were never coming back to me, I crawled back to my parents’ apartment, which is only a fraction of the punishment I deserve. I’m rotting here. Mother’s satisfaction is like a noose around my neck, tightening a little more with every day.
You said once that it would never be too late. I hope you still believe that. I hope this letter, whenever you are reading it, offers some explanation. I wasn’t good enough. You painted a picture of a man far better than the one who stood in front of you. It is no more complicated than that.
I know it is worthless and meaningless now, but I never stopped loving you, Alice. You still dance through my dreams at night. It’s all I have left, but it’s still so much more than I deserve.
Yours, forever,
Antoine
My cheeks are wet, and I wipe the back of my sleeve across my face, sniffing loudly.
“Granny?” Her eyes are closed. She’s perfectly still. Just lying there, letting Antoine’s words sink deeply into her, with the very faintest smile curling across her lips.
“I feel better.” She opens her eyes and I’m relieved to see they are dry. “It has taken far too long, but he has made me feel better, and for that I am grateful. He gave Alice her escape, Lucille, do you see? Despite his failings, Antoine made me see that I was worth more; he helped save me from a lifetime of living a lie, even if he couldn’t be mine. He was right. He wasn’t good enough for me, and neither was Albert. But Edward? Your wonderful granddad Teddy, he was.”
“But the baby, Granny. Didn’t you want to get her back?”
“Oh my goodness, more than anything, yes. Everything started well. I found work as a housekeeper in a huge residence, not far from here, a job that eventually pulled Teddy and me back together again. That’s when I changed my name too. Sylvie was my mother’s middle name. It seems silly now, but despite the rejection, it made me feel that there might be hope, that we might one day be reconciled if I still had that connection to her. I was wrong about that, but if there was one thing I did know, it was how to run a home that size, how to organize the other staff and make sure everything ran like clockwork. But the hours were impossibly long, and the pay only just covered my own living expenses. As hard as I tried, I never managed to save anything. Even if it had paid more, there was no way my hours could accommodate a newborn baby.”
“Oh, Granny, did you ever see her again?”
“I did once, yes. It was after Edward and I were married; your mother was still small. I traveled to Paris on my own and watched her in the park with her new mummy. She was so happy. They both were. And I knew that had to be enough. By then I had given up work, but it was all too late, Lucille. How could I possibly have forced my way back into her life then? There was only one person who would have benefited from that, and it wasn’t my innocent daughter or the wonderful woman raising her. I couldn’t be that selfish. I knew she was well, her mummy made sure I always knew.”
“And Mum knows none of this? You’ve never told her this story?”
“No. But I will. She deserves to hear the truth too. It may seem like the wrong way around, Lucille, but I wanted you to hear it first. You’re still so young. You have the most to learn from it. I knew you would unravel it and see the good that is buried in it all.”
My lips find her fingers. “I’m so sorry, Granny. It’s all so desperately sad. Do you have anything of the baby’s? Anything to remind you of her that you kept?”
“I have all my letters.”