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A Different Configuration
Draft #3
Copyright 2011 Christina M. Guerrero
DEDICATION:
With grateful appreciation for the summer of 2010.
STORY BEHIND THE STORY:
While doing research on Paris for several projects, I discovered Galeries Lafayette,
one of the city’s most popular shopping malls. As I examined photos and videos of the mall,
this idea grew from just one scene -- a few complaints about a silly dream -- into a short story.
ABOUT THE THIRD DRAFT:
A few awkwardly-written sentences have been rewritten.
Changed “alright” to “all right.” Still haven’t memorized that spelling.
The appearances of a few characters. They’re difficult to visualize during the first few drafts.
Thought about changing Aldwin’s name but since it means “wise friend,” which he is, I didn’t.
Garance is definitely fond of Aldwin, but not in a “I really need to be with him” kind of way.
She’s accepted the fact that she’s not his type, so a few things were changed to reflect that.
Sometimes I name characters in a hurry, which was how I picked “Ralph” for that character.
It doesn’t fit him, his appearance or his personality, so he is now “Parker.”
Some of the Christmas presents were a bit excessive, so I made a few adjustments.
A brief, more logical explanation about the Paris to Channel Tunnel trip.
Draft #2 had them in Paris, and suddenly at the station (not within walking distance),
with very little narrative about how they got there.
An explanation of the Bible verse.
Corrected a few typos and continuity errors.
I stood under the dome of Galeries Lafayette in Paris, listening to the murmur of mostly French speakers, watching the shoppers on the balconies above me, smelling the scents of sophisticated, spicy perfumes all around me, so lost in the experience that I did not hear or see Aldwin until he said my name twice.
“Garance? Garance?” His English accent emerged from the fluid sounds of French.
I found him to my right, a few feet away. “There you are.” I looked into a mirror next to him and felt self-conscious: my skin was paler than usual against my long auburn hair, which made my blue eyes stand out more than usual.
He was smiling, but frowned slightly as I faced him. “Are you all right?”
For a moment I wanted to rush into his arms and be comforted. The nightmare from much earlier that morning was still fresh in my mind. I was happy to see him standing nearby, towering over my petite, slim frame at six-one, with his light brown hair and sky blue eyes and slim yet big-boned build. His friendly face was a big change from the distant, angry version of him in my dream.
He reached out and rubbed my back. “All right, then?”
“Um. Yeah. It’s nothing, really. I was just ... just thinking about this terrible dream I had last night. And trying to replace the images with this lovely scene.” I looked up again.
“A nightmare.”
“Yeah it was. I wasn’t here, in Paris. I had never moved here. And when I got here ....”
He was still rubbing my back and listening with a pleasant look on his face.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m rambling.”
“Tell me if you want. I think we’ll be here a while. We’re early.”
I looked around. We were supposed to meet seven more of our friends, who were also our roommates, after Christmas shopping. We had parted earlier in the morning, and had agreed to meet under the dome three hours later. I had arrived forty minutes early and had been standing here, still convincing myself I was no longer in the dream, which had been disturbing and vivid.
I looked up again. A huge Christmas tree dominated the immediate area, and other decorations gave the area a pink glow.
“Okay,” I said. “I wasn’t here. I lived somewhere else. And I didn’t know all eight of you. We were scattered around in the universe in a different configuration.”
Aldwin moved closer; the outsides of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. His hand was still on my back, which was comforting. "A different configuration? Were some of us aliens or something? Did we have boxes for heads and shells for feet, or something unusual like that?”
I laughed. “Yeah. There was an alien. I can’t remember who that was. And one of us was a plant.”
He laughed. “Do you remember who?”
After thinking for a moment I said, “No. Although I did have a list of all our names, and was checking them off.”
Suddenly I remembered the worst part of the dream and stopped smiling, and felt quite grim.
Aldwin frowned again and asked, “Thinking about the nightmare part?”
“Yeah. It was awful. I made the wrong choices and didn’t move here until very late in life. Not sure where I lived before that. But no matter where I went, this stupid fat woman kept sending me notes to stay in touch with her husband.”
Aldwin’s lips tightened as he studied me; amusement filled his eyes.
“It’s okay to laugh,” I said. “She was annoying. Just when I’d think I’d prevented her from contacting me, I’d get another note. Somehow she was able to hear me if I shouted, so I told her I had never met her husband. But she insisted we had dated, and demanded an explanation about why I had broken up with him.”
“She was stalking you?”
“Definitely. I reported her to all her Internet service providers. Even though she wasn’t using the Internet.”
Aldwin laughed again -- a happy, friendly sound -- which made me laugh. “And?”
“I showed up at her garden club and gave a long speech, explaining why I had supposedly dated and broken up with her husband ... that is, before he was married. It was this long terrible story.” If he asked for details, I’d refuse. I was too embarrassed to repeat them, even though they had happened only in the dream.
Aldwin rubbed my back again. “You know, Parker said he heard someone crying out last night, but thought it might have been Jill and Carl. They can be a bit ....” He blushed and looked away.
“Passionate,” I said, glad for a reason to smile. We all lived in a large double flat in the Champs Elysées area. Jill and Carl were the only couple. A few of us were American expatriates; a few English who preferred to live in Paris; and a few French; and we were all in our early to mid-thirties. I was American, but had a French name, having been christened by parents smitten with French culture. We were a big group of friends that had formed during the past ten years, and had decided to share the flat when the world’s economy started affecting our professions and budgets.
“Might have been you,” Aldwin said.
“Yeah. Sometimes I mumble or cry out when I have nightmares.”
We jumped and turned at the sound of a loud, “OI!”
Parker, one of our English roommates, ran toward us, wearing a brown leather jacket, a T-shirt with a huge pink flower on it, jeans and hiking boots. His long spiky dark blond hair flapped around his head. “Aldwin ... Garance. How much time do I have?”
Aldwin checked his watch; I tried not to stare. He looked like finely-crafted furniture come to life. He wore a long, dark brown jacket with a bunch of pockets; a light brown sweater underneath; dark blue jeans, and the most incredible dark brown boots. He said, “More than fifteen minutes. Take your time.”
“Be right back.” Parker walked backwards for a few steps, exposing the flower on his shirt, then turned and ran away.
“Perhaps he was the plant?” Aldwin said.
“Maybe. Hey, where did you get those shoes?”
He looked down and extended one foot. “Custom-made. I have weird feet. You like them? You can borrow them some time.”
“No, probably not,” I said, laughing again. “But I’d love to draw them.”
“You really should do something about this fashion design ambition.”
“Yeah. But not in this lifetime. My schedule is full.”
“Hm. I think you should at least do the research. So ... at the risk of putting that unhappy look back on your face ... what happened after the garden club speech?”
“Oh ... everyone vanished. There were no more notes. I was finally able to get some work done. Then, when I was able to, I moved here, and that was when I had the list.”
Another voice interrupted us: Laurel, one of our French roommates. She was medium-sized and plump, with long dark brown hair, and had an airy, polite voice. Aldwin had been flirting with her for the past few years, but she only wanted to be friends. His face softened as she walked toward us and said in French, “Hello, Aldwin. Hello, Garance. Goodbye, Aldwin. Goodbye, Garance. I have just remembered I have forgotten something. I will return.” As she walked away, I saw a large spaceship patch on the back of her white leather jacket.
Aldwin watched her with a little smile, and seemed to be paying particular attention to the movement of her Rubenesque bottom as it shifted slowly inside her perfectly-pressed jeans.
I reminded myself that he was quite fond of large women, tried to stop feeling envious, pulled myself together, and said, “I don’t think she was the alien. And ... I’m sorry about the ‘fat’ comment earlier.”
He focused on me again, rubbing my back. “Why? It was funny. So ... was that the end?”
“No. There was this vague part when I was checking off squares. Eight of them. And you were last.”
“Was I a lamppost? Or perhaps a building?”
“No. I saw you across a busy street here in Paris. You looked about the same age you are now, in your mid-thirties, and you were wearing a waiter’s uniform. Oh, and you were pale green.”
Aldwin looked to his left, rather suspiciously. I tried to remember what exactly that meant -- was he uncomfortable? lying? remembering something? I had read a few articles and watched a few TV shows about body language and eye movements, but could not think fast enough, and remember what I had learned.
He said, “I was a pea-green French waiter?”
“I don’t think French. You spoke English with a hint of BBC broadcaster accent. In the dream we had never met, so I just watched you for a few minutes. Then you turned and saw me and tilted your head a little bit like maybe you recognized me, so I waved. You didn’t wave back. You shouted, ‘You’re just using me to get to my friend.’ And I was quite annoyed, because I had somehow chatted with your friend, and thought he was cool, but I really was hoping to talk to you.”
Aldwin said, “Aw. I’m sorry I was rude in your dream.”
“Don’t be silly. It was just a dream.”
“Was that the end?”
“No. There was a little bit more. Your friend decided to hang out with me. I had this massive temper tantrum like a little kid and said I wanted you to hang out with me instead. So your friend brought this person to me and said it was you. But it wasn’t. It just wasn’t the same, even though this individual was extremely polite and nice to me.”
That brought tears to my eyes, which made me feel embarrassed but I did not try to hide my reaction. I just looked away.
I was upset because I enjoyed Aldwin’s friendship; his reaction to me in the dream had been very disappointing. Although I had my little crush, I had never said or done anything suggestive. He was always kind, but did not interact with me the way he did with Laurel. I wasn’t ready for a relationship, but hoped someday, when I finally wanted to date, I’d find someone like him.
Aldwin hugged me, which was too kind of him. He said, “Are you sure only a dream is bothering you? You seem quite upset.”
I gently pulled away, not wanting to overstay my welcome in his arms. “Yeah. Just the dream. The harassment was annoying. The garden club lecture was disturbing. You not talking to me ... that sucked.”
Deciding to be playful, I pushed on his left arm. His nose crinkled as he smiled. Then he quickly felt the left side of his jacket ... once, twice, and looked away.
I looked too, and saw Laurel walking toward us with Parker.
“Still fancy her?” I asked, hoping to draw attention away from the hug.
“I’ll always fancy her. One of the great crushes of my life.”
I patted his arm and started walking away. “You like ‘em large, eh?”
He grinned and turned pink. “Where are you going?”
“To smell the perfumes.”
We all sampled perfumes until everyone else joined us, then went outside and took the metro home.
A few days later, I woke up on Christmas Day to the sound of Laurel’s voice calling to me in French: “Garance! When are you waking up? We want to exchange presents.”
“Okay. Coming.”
I went into the living room, still wearing my pajamas. Everyone sat around the tree, enjoying hot chocolate or coffee and croissants. “Happy Christmas” and “Joyeux Noel” filled the air. Aldwin tipped an imaginary hat to me, smiled and winked as he chatted with Parker. They both had wild hair that stood up all over their heads, and glassy eyes. I wondered if they had stayed up late, drinking.
Laurel distributed the presents; soon we were ripping open packages and either laughing or saying various forms of “thank you.”
As flipped through several Barnes and Noble paperback classics from Carl, someone large and covered in red plaid pajamas plopped next to me, kissed my left cheek and said “Happy Christmas.” I smelled Aldwin’s scent -- something pleasant and sophisticated that made me think of the decor of a gentleman’s study -- and saw a pale green thick envelope appear in front of my eyes.
“Thanks,” I said.
He opened up the large Leatherman keychain I had bought him. “Thank you for the industrial-sized emergency tools. I think I could build a house with this keychain.” He had been hinting for months that he wanted one. He refolded the keychain, inserted it into a slim leather pouch and said, “I hope this pouch didn’t cost as much as it looks. That’s quality craftsmanship.”
“It’s Christmas. Don’t worry about it.”
He said, “Go ahead. Open it,” indicating my green envelope. Across from us, Laurel looked up, then flicked her eyes away. He hadn’t noticed; he was looking at the envelope. I thought about telling him later but knowing him, he’d be nice and say something like, “She’s never jealous. She was probably looking out of curiosity.”
I opened the envelope and pulled out a card that featured a harassed-looking man waving from a pile of Christmas lights that almost covered him.
Then I remembered Aldwin looking suspicious when we discussed my dream -- particularly when I mentioned the pea-green color and him waving -- just as I opened the card and read his handwriting: “At Galeries Lafayette, I thought you had followed me and saw me choosing this card! What an interesting dream. Quite prescient. Wasn’t sure what to get for you; you’re too satisfied with your life; so just paid attention all year. Always here for you, as you have been for me. Aldwin.”
Another envelope, this one slightly smaller, contained something thin. I opened it and found a gift card for Galeries Lafayette with a generous balance.
“No,” I said. “I can’t ... this is too much ... this is something you give to a girlfriend.”
Aldwin raised his eyebrows. “If I had a girlfriend I wouldn’t give her a gift card. And don’t play at disliking the gift. I’ve seen the way you walk around the Galeries.” He opened his eyes wide and looked adoringly around the room and up at the ceiling.
I laughed and put everything back into the envelope. “Thank you. I owe you for this.”
“No you don’t. Let’s not keep a tally.”
I wondered how I had “been there for him” as he mentioned in the card, but did not ask because conversations were picking up and Laurel was moving toward him. I noticed he was kind to her, but not as attentive.
Later, after an early Christmas dinner, I looked outside. It was getting dark already and a light dusting of snow covered everything. As I closed the curtains I saw Aldwin moving toward me, dressed in a thick black coat, dark gray scarf, jeans and gray boots similar to the fancy brown boots he wore to the mall.
“Going out?” I asked.
He smiled and looked away bashfully. “Yes. I have a date.” Ah, so that was why he looked unconcerned near Laurel.
“A Christmas date? Well, have fun.”
“Thanks. And what are you doing?”
“Just help with cleaning, maybe take a walk, and then read. Perhaps an early bedtime.”
“A nice relaxing day.”
“Definitely.”
I was about to excuse myself when he said, “Did you like all your gifts?”
“Yeah. And I wanted to ask you ... what did you mean I’ve ‘been here’ for you? Outside the usual roommate type things one does. If you’ve got time.”
“Yeah, I do. I’m actually running a bit early.” He checked his watch. “But you’ve been there. Remember when I got sick?”
“With the common head cold?” I almost said that men could act like little boys when they got sick, but he looked so grateful, and it was Christmas ....
“It was more than a head cold. And remember when Parker got arrested and you went with me to bail him out?”
“So.” I shrugged. “We’re roommates.”
“He’s actually become one of my best friends. So that was appreciated.”
“Oh ... well.”
“And I won’t forget your help with Morgan.”
I frowned. “Morgan?”
Aldwin looked surprised. “Yes. Morgan. You remember him.”
I laughed. “No.”
“How could you forget him? You picked him up from Charles de Gaulle airport and dropped him off at the Louvre.”
I frowned again, and then remembered: a long drive through a light rain about a year ago; this man Morgan, about the same height and shape as Aldwin, but with dark brown hair, strange dark gray eyes, and slightly darker skin.
“I forgot about that,” I said. “He had the coolest accent. He’s Welsh?”
“English. Spent most of his childhood in Wales.”
“He was nice,” I said. I smiled, wondering how I had forgotten. I remembered a long, pleasant conversation about farming and horticulture and the Welsh countryside.
Aldwin looked away, smiling, then said, rather tentatively, “He asks about you. I tell him you’re doing well. I could ... um ... invite him here ... perhaps you’d like to chat with him again.”
“Uh ... would you be nearby? Protecting me?”
“Definitely. We’ll have one of our weekend get-togethers and I’ll be your younger brother slash chaperone. And I’ll have a back-up, too, just in case my attention is temporarily diverted.”
“Cool. Who’s your backup?”
Aldwin checked his watch with a little smile. “I’d better go. If I don’t see you later ... sweet dreams.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“You can probably guess who.” Even as he said that, I saw Parker in the living room, looking toward us.
Aldwin was a brief blur of black against me: that sophisticated scent ... warmth against both of my cheeks ... then he was outside walking on the sidewalk.
I returned to the dining room, and helped clean up, filled with childlike magical good feelings from the holiday, and from the chats with Aldwin. Soon, the room was clean again, and we parted for other areas of the flats.
When someone turned off the lights, all of our cell phones beeped almost simultaneously.
I was the first to access the message, which was a text from Aldwin: “Family emergency. Need help.”
Parker read his, pressed a few buttons, waited, then said, “Oi ... Aldwin.”
Everyone else stood around, looking with worry either at their phones or at Parker.
Parker turned to me. “Garance is the only one with a car. I could borrow it or--”
“I’ll drive,” I said. “Where is he?”
“In the area, several blocks away.”
Jill said, “Is he all right? What can we do?” She slapped Carl’s hand away as he attempted to squeeze her butt. The others echoed her words.
Parker hung up and said, “Everyone, do not worry. We will take care of it. And you know I owe him the most out of all of us. Enjoy the rest of your holiday. We’ll keep you informed. Garance, I’ll meet you at the car. He needs his overnight bag and passport.”
I went to my room, got a coat and my purse and went to my car.
When Parker joined me I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I dunno. He wouldn’t say.”
We were lucky with parking: found a space a few feet from the cafe where, through a large glass window, we could see Aldwin sitting at a table, one hand against his face, as a large red-haired woman sat across from him, her arms and legs folded.
“I bet she thinks he’s lying,” I said.
“I bet she does.”
We went inside and I rubbed Aldwin’s back. “Come on. Where do you need to go?”
He looked up; his face was stiff with wide eyes. “The Channel Tunnel. Morgan is meeting me there.”
The woman said loudly, “And who are zeez people? Did you hire them from zis Central Casting from zee United States? How much you pay them to asseest you with zis charade? Ooo!” She stood up, walked outside, slipped on the sidewalk and fell. A thin elderly man tried to help her up.
Parker snorted as he watched this, then said to Aldwin, “Let’s go. You need help standing?”
“No, I can do that at least.” Aldwin produced a ghost of a smile.
We went outside, piled into my car and drove away. Something bounced off the rear bumper, and then something else. Parker rolled down the passenger window and shouted several obscenities at the large angry French woman, who was visible in my rear-view mirror.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “What’d she throw? A couple of small rocks?”
“I dunno, but she’s mental.”
To Aldwin I said, “What’s wrong?”
He sighed deeply. “A family member. Diagnosed with a terminal illness. Can’t really say anything yet. That branch of the family is quite private. I may be able to share when I return.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Parker leaned forward from the back seat and appeared between us. “Yeah, terribly sorry, mate. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you.”
As we drove to the Channel Tunnel, I almost asked Aldwin why he didn’t take a faster way there, but then remembered he had needed his passport and bag, and probably wanted his friends with him. He fell asleep, as did Parker, and I drove for about two hours with French jazz music for company.
At the station we all went inside. Even though I had met Morgan only once, I recognized him as he walked toward us. He greeted Aldwin with a big bear hug. After they exchanged an incomprehensible conversation, Morgan turned to me. He was taller than I remembered, and slimmer.
Morgan gently hugged me, kissed both of my cheeks and said with a lilting, musical tenor, “Proverbs 18:24.”
“What’s that?”
“Look it up.” He turned to Parker, shook his hand and clapped him on the back. “Proverbs 18:24.”
“Eh?”
Morgan said, pointing at me, “She’ll look it up.”
We all laughed except for Aldwin, who wiped his eyes and smiled briefly. He rushed to me and embraced me. “I owe you.”
“Don’t be silly. Remember we’re not keeping track?”
“Er ... yeah.” He kissed my right cheek and pulled away. Thinking he was in a hurry, and about to hug Parker, I prepared to let go, but he kissed me again ... on my mouth ... his lips were warm and tantalizingly soft ... I froze, feeling electrified ... was that intentional? ... probably not ... I was moving too fast and forgot about the European kiss.
Aldwin moved away quickly; he stepped over to Parker, hugged him and said, “Thank you.”
Morgan nudged Aldwin and again said something cryptic. He was probably speaking Welsh. Aldwin nodded, glanced at me, waved, and they walked away, toward the train.
Parker moved to my right side and said, “Glad I could help him. I definitely owe him, more than the others do.”
“What do you mean? I thought he loaned a few dollars to someone.”
“He’s loaned quite a bit of money to half of ‘em.”
“Really?”
Parker slowly looked at me. “You did not know?”
“No.”
“Me and me big mouth. That’s what got me arrested.”
“I won’t repeat it.”
“And he’s paid for--” He bit his bottom lip.
I smiled. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I will. He paid for ... well ... he rescued someone else too, who paid him back with interest, which he refused at first, but eventually accepted.”
“Gosh. I didn’t know.”
“A very generous man. Ready to go home?”
“Yeah.”
“You have a Bible?”
“Yeah. Oh yeah, the verse. But don’t you have an iPhone?”
“Bloody hell. Me brain isn’t workin’ properly. Let’s see.” As we walked he flipped through a few screens. “Here. ‘A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly; and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.’”
“Oh, that one. I know that verse.”
“I like that. Nice of Morgan to say that.”
“Yeah.” I kept my opinion to myself: I had always thought the verse was a little bit unfair toward brothers who were truly loyal and caring toward their siblings.
We drove home, where I washed up, put on my pajamas, got into bed ... and dreamed.
I dreamed about the green Aldwin again. He was across the street, not waving at me. I turned around and walked away. I decided I would not put up with that, and to find someone else to talk to. I was polite; I was succinct; I was kind. That wasn’t good enough? Time to move on.
However, as I marched away, with my checklist full, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I turned around. Aldwin stood there, his head slightly bowed. He said, “I owe you an apology. I was mistaken about your intentions. People always want to meet my friend, thinkin’ he’s the answer to all their needs or prayers or wants or somethin’. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“We could ... we could chat for just a bit. Then I have to go back to work.” He looked across the street.
“Yeah, for just a bit. I have to get back, too. A good friend of mine needs help.”
“Really? Right. You should take care of your friends.”
Somehow, this was satisfactory and we hugged and parted.
I woke up then, in my dark room. It was still early morning, about three-thirty a.m.
I sat up, listening.
The flat was quiet around me ... so quiet I could hear people snoring.
There was no garden club and no terrible story to tell. There was no list. It was not the dream configuration. It was this configuration: with Aldwin in London, and Morgan at his side; with eight of us in the large, double flat.
It was the taste of Aldwin still on my mouth, even though I had brushed my teeth and washed my face.
I got comfortable again, and fell asleep, and this time dreamed only of the Galeries Lafayette.
TO BE CONTINUED
DRAFT #1 - DRAFT #2
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