Another day without sunshine... It's starting to piss me off.
Pierre had just stepped out of his house and let out a huge sigh as soon as he saw the gray sky. His eyes became as lifeless as his facial expression. It was as if he had reverted to the man he was nine months ago.
Haaa... It's nothing, he thought. It's winter, it will pass. Can't wait for spring!
This depressing weather had indeed lasted for too long. The residents of Saint-Pabu hadn't seen the sun for twelve days, and the weeks before hadn't been much brighter. The oldest residents said they were probably breaking an old record for the lack of sunshine. According to the town's eldest, you had to go back to the 80s to find such a long period without sunny days.
She also predicted that the following summer would be particularly hot.
Pierre didn't know if this prediction would come true, but it had scared a lot of people.
The residents relied on rain for their supply of fresh water. It couldn't be as pure as the mineral water bought in supermarkets before the blackout and would make people sick if it wasn't boiled before consumption, but it was infinitely better than the extremely polluted river water.
That water was deadly.
It was no wonder that Mayor Le Gall had ordered fishermen to go further offshore to catch fish and banned the collection of shellfish on the beaches. Unfortunately, this included mussels and oysters farmed around Aber Benoît. Several people had reportedly fallen seriously ill and died after consuming them.
Luckily, Pierre hadn't eaten any despite loving them.
"Excuse me? Mr. Marchais?"
A voice as sweet as honey abruptly cut through Pierre's thoughts. While he was taking the air in his garden, he hadn't noticed the young lady approaching. She had appeared at the entrance of his house, on the other side of a white plastic gate. She was neither tall nor short, had an angelic face, beautiful hair, and sparkling eyes. A charming smile formed on her pink lips as her cheeks became increasingly red.
Their eyes met.
The girl from the church! What... What's she doing here?
"Uh, yes?"
"I... I was wondering... Would you... like some apple compote?"
She averted her eyes, unable to face the incredulous look of the man she had wanted to meet for so long.
Huh? What? Some...
"Some... some compote?"
"Y-yes! They come from our garden. My mother preserved them in jars so we could eat them later. I opened a jar to make you some compote!"
The more the young girl spoke, the more she blushed, finding her approach childish.
Pierre struggled to understand what was happening. He felt like he was navigating in thick fog without a compass.
"It's... You don't have to, but... it would make me happy if..."
In the end, Pierre couldn't make sense of the words mumbled by the young girl, embarrassed like never before. She was probably as lost as he was, despite being the one to take the initiative to come to him.
"Uh, I don't know what you have in mind, but..."
"Please!"
Pierre noticed that the young girl had tears in her eyes. It must have taken a lot of courage for her to not only ask Yvon for his address but also to come and speak to him. She thought she was much stronger than this and evidently felt like she was living a nightmare.
Ah... I don't know what's going on, but I don't want to make her cry. What would people say about me?
"All right. I'd like to taste your apple compote. But I'm not sure it's a good idea to stay at my place."
If people find out I was alone with a young girl at my house, my reputation will be ruined. I'll have to leave the village.
The young girl turned to Pierre quickly, her eyes wide, teary, and visibly happy.
Without a word, they went to Korn ar Gazel beach, north of Saint-Pabu. The tide was low, giving them plenty of space to eat the apple compote and talk in peace. She had brought a spoon, and the compote was still warm. It had been made the day before and reheated in the morning to be immediately stored in a plastic container with a lid to keep the heat.
Pierre plunged his spoon into the fragrant fruit puree under the attentive gaze of the young girl. Her eyes asked the question her lips couldn't utter.
"It's delicious."
The young girl then gave the most beautiful smile, even more beautiful than at the Christmas mass.
"Really? I'm glad! I made it myself! You can eat more! I made it for you."
"I'd love to, but... Tell me why you went through so much trouble for me."
"Because... Because I want to be closer to you. To you." (informal)
"Little girl, you..."
"Céline," the young girl interrupted. "My name is Céline. Can I call you... Pierre?"
"It's... Um, a bit awkward. We don't know each other. Well, fine, Céline. Why do you want to know me?"
"B-because I like you! Since I first saw you!"
"At the dentist's? He's your father, right?"
"Yes. Oh, no, the first time was when you arrived in Saint-Pabu on your horse. You were wearing armor like a soldier."
"I'm not a soldier. Look, little girl, Céline, you don't know me. You know nothing about me, and I know nothing about you," Pierre explained patiently, fearing to hurt the young girl.
"Then let's get to know each other better! My name is Céline Thomas, I'm seventeen, almost eighteen, I like pastries, going to the beach, doing..."
"No... Wait. I... That's not what I meant. Well, yes, but... how can you have any feelings for me when you know nothing about me?"
"I don't know. I just like you, that's all I know. I knew it since I first saw you."
Pierre felt a headache coming on as he listened to this young girl who seemed sincere. In a voice that he wanted to be calm and diplomatic, he replied while looking her straight in the eyes.
"But look at you. Look at me. I'm over thirty years old, do you realize that! You're still a child! You should be chasing after boys your age!"
"I'm not a child anymore! I'm an adult! I can think for myself and I know what my heart says! Other boys don't interest me!"
Pierre looked with surprise at young Céline, whose determination seemed to have exploded like a volcano.
They remained silent for a moment on the almost deserted beach, lulled by the sound of the waves crashing on the fine sand and the rocks a bit further down.
Pierre looked straight into Céline's big blue eyes, which trembled slightly as she forced herself not to look away. It was as if they were in the middle of a duel.
Finally, Céline broke the silence that was starting to become awkward.
"Please, let's give us a chance. Please."
It was more of a whisper than anything else, yet this sentence resonated deep within his chest. His heart, he could feel it, was beating faster in his chest. When he realized it, his throat tightened and his chest hurt as if pierced by a white-hot lance.
Damn it! What am I doing! She's just a kid! She probably knows nothing about love! At that age, you think you know everything! She knows nothing! And she knows nothing about me either! She doesn't know who I am and who I was! My God, help me!
In his mind, a ruthless battle was taking place. His thoughts raced like a galloping horse with overwhelming force, making them almost inaudible. Pierre had never felt so lost. He realized he couldn't think clearly anymore and that time was still passing. Meanwhile, young Céline waited silently for an answer.
The more time passed, the seconds feeling like endless hours, the more he felt ridiculous. The answer should have been obvious to him, he sincerely thought, as someone who had always been very pragmatic. The old him would have certainly brushed off this young girl unceremoniously, finding her stupid and pathetic. He would have simply told her to get out of his way, to stop bothering him, to go play with her little friends, to let him work, and never approach him again to avoid tarnishing his reputation.
I can't do that. She's already on the verge of tears! Damn, what should I do?!
"Listen to me, Céline, I really appreciate your gesture. And your words. They touch me. But the age difference... Doesn't it bother you?"
"Not really, no," replied the young girl, shaking her head, a long blonde lock dancing in front of her eyes.
"And your parents? What will they say? They won't be happy, don't you think?"
"It's my life, not theirs. And besides, there's a ten-year age gap between my mom and dad."
Is she serious?! There's more than ten years of difference here, though!
"But it's very important to take the time to get to know each other," Pierre declared, feeling his arguments running out. "A relationship is... like a house. It takes time to build, OK? You need to start by building a solid foundation. Otherwise, the house won't stand and everyone suffers. Do you understand?"
"Then let's take our time. I can wait. Let's get to know each other better!"
She's so stubborn! Ah... It's like talking to a wall. No matter what I say, she won't listen unless I push her away violently. But... I don't want to hurt her. Since when? When did I become so... weak?
Pierre was aware of his change in personality. Even though it had been gradual, the change had been radical enough to be glaringly obvious. A blind person could see the difference between his current self and who he used to be.
If he had suddenly shut himself off from the world in middle school, he had become a selfish and insensitive jerk once he arrived in Paris. It wasn't really Paris that had turned him into such a person, although the overwhelming atmosphere, incomparable to what he had known in Normandy, wasn't without its influence. It was mainly his line of work.
As a trader, results were demanded of him just to have the right to work. Money was necessary to live, and a lot of it was needed to live decently in the capital, so he had no choice but to become a bastard. Not enough to climb the ranks, unlike Vince, but he had been ruthless enough in his dealings to be called a shark. A shark among others.
"All right, fine. But don't be sad if it doesn't work out, OK?"
"Yeah!"