Chapter Eight

 

Flashback continues May 1998 – September 1998

 

After their success in Europe, Nsync was ready to return home and conquer America.  They arrived triumphantly home to the sound of crickets throughout the airport and their parents picking them up in the parking lot.

 

Throughout the trip, JC had written countless letters to Annie.  Every single one had been promptly sent back, unopened and marked "Return to Sender".  Lance had been patient and faithfully at JC’s side through the whole ordeal, but even polite Southern gentlemen have their limits.  Eventually, he could remain silent no longer.  "JC, don’t you think it’s time to quit being hung up on Annie?  She keeps sending back your letters and it’s pretty obvious she does it without even looking at them."  Lance took a deep breath.  "I don’t know that happened and I don’t mean to pry, but I think it’s pretty hopeless."  He paused for a moment, then continued.  "JC, what did happen?"  A very embarrassed look then came over his face.  "That is, if you don’t mind me asking."

 

"No, it’s okay."  JC sighed.  "I’ll tell you everything that I know for sure."  And he did, filling in everything he could remember."

 

Lance stood awestruck as he listened, unable to believe what his friend was saying.  "This wasn’t the JC he knew that JC would never do anything like that.  After his friend finished his story, Lance was at a loss for words.  "Are you sure?"  He asked quietly.

 

"I guess" JC sighed.  "Even I’m starting to believe it happened that way.  Annie certainly did, so did Claude.  I’ve tried over and over again to talk to her, but it seems so useless."  He bowed his head, closing his eyes.  "Maybe it is time I just put it behind me and move on like you said."

 

Lance put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.  "I’m sorry.

 

JC opened his eyes.  "Lance, do me a favor."

 

Sure.  What do you need?"

 

"Please don’t mention this to the rest of the guys."  He looked pleadingly into his friend’s face.  "Okay?"

 

Lance nodded once.  "Promise."

 

JC let out the breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding.  "Thanks."

 

Meanwhile Annie was still trying to cope.  She ended up staying with Claude for several weeks before finally building up enough courage to go back to her flat.  Both Claude and Jacques had given much love and support, but were baffled by what had transpired.  Claude especially felt that something was very wrong, yet couldn’t come to a reasonable explanation.  Something to do with those bothersome pictures, but Annie refused to talk about them.  Instead, she spent hours on the phone with her mother and father.  Of course, they were a great comfort to her, but there is only so much one can do to console over a phone-line.  They were as at a loss about what to do as their daughter.

 

As Annie walked down the hallway towards her apartment, she tried to steady herself.  She would be passing right by Babette’s door before reaching her own.  Fortunately, she made it past without incident, breathing a sigh of relief as she entered her home.

 

There, she saw that Jacques had cleaned up the destruction in her studio.  Not to mention he also had made sure to feed Rosemarie, stocked her fridge and left some flowers in a jar on the table.  Unbeknownst to Annie, he’d also taken the liberty of hiding the small picture of JC she had painted, the only one to escape her wrath since it had been dropped in the living room, in a box in the closet.

 

She sighed and picked up Rosemarie, who responded with a meow of protest.  Having been left alone for so long with no real petting had gotten the cat seriously miffed.  Annie hugged her by way of apology and went to sit by the window.  She remained there for hours, stroking Rosemarie and thinking.  Eventually, she came to the conclusion that life was too short to spend wallowing self-pity.

 

An important decision was made that day.  Annie decided to contact the gentleman who had left his card at Basille’s studio, the American who wanted her to return to America with him and help him in his business.

 

His name was John Evans, an ex-CIA man who now made prosthetic appliances for people who had become disfigured by illness, accidents or burns.  John had complimented her work, saying that her art reflected a special "eye" for seeing people as they really were.  Annie had accepted his compliment, then realized the truth behind his words.  By doing this, she could actually do something worthwhile with her art, instead of just making the world a prettier place to look at.  She could give people back their lives, their hope, dignity.

 

Annie called everyone to let them know.  Claude thought it was a marvelous opportunity, saying this seemed to be her calling, a life’s mission.  Naturally, her parents were doubly thrilled.  This meant she’d be coming home at last!

 

No sooner had she hung up the phone; Annie heard a knock at her door.  Yet when she opened the door, no one was there but there was a photo.  The woman felt her face flush slightly with anger.  Babette!  How dare she do this!  After all-, Annie cut herself off, sensing that this reaction was probably exactly, what Babette wanted to happen.  She picked up the picture and placed it in a box by the door without looking at it.  Sitting down at her desk, she started making a list of things to take back with her to America.  Anything not on the list would be left behind.  Not long into this activity, another knock at the door.  Opening it, she was somehow not surprised to see another photo on the floor.  It befell the same fate as the first; into the box without so much as a glance to acknowledge it.

 

At this point, Annie suddenly realized that she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast.  The kitchen was her next stop as she descended on it and made herself dinner.  While she was eating, yet another knock resounded on the door.  Annie ran to it, flinging it open just as Babette was starting to scurry away.

 

"Babette" Annie called harshly, stopping the woman dead in her tracks.  The woman slowly turned back to face her, looking more undone than she had ever before.  "What is the meaning of this, Babette?"

 

Babette’s eyes were glazed, seemingly unable to focus and flitting from object to object like a hummingbird on crack.  Somehow, they managed to connect with Annie’s for a brief moment.

 

"He’s gone."  She whispered, her voice cracking.  "He’s never coming back."  She trailed off as tears began to fall from her eyes.  "Why did he leave me?"

 

"Who left you?"

 

A sob racked her frame.  "Jake."

 

Annie felt a moment of strange relief, but about what?  "Babette, Jake’s in prison.  She lowered her voice, trying to remind her.  "Don’t you remember?  He hurt you."

 

Babette sank to the floor, crying quietly.  She curled up, hugging her knees and whimpering as the tears coursed down.  Every now and then, the words "he’s gone" could be made out between sobs.

 

Annie helped the woman up, leading her to her flat.  The apartment itself was in such shambles one could hardly walk around.  The carpet, which was supposed to be shag, crunched with every step.  Looking at it, one could see why; it was thoroughly encrusted with food stains from unknown periods of time.  The whole place looked as if Babette hadn’t thrown anything away for years.  Dirty clothes, garbage and piles of old food in various stages of decay littered every available space.

 

Somehow Annie managed to clear a space on the couch that looked halfway suitable for sitting and helped Babette to it.  The former was no longer angry; how could someone be angry at the sad and miserable creature Babette had become?

 

Babette emerged out of her cocoon and looked soulfully at Annie.  "Where’s Josh?"

 

Mixed emotions of anger, betrayal and sadness rose in Annie all at once.  "He’s gone back to America."

 

She seemed to be descending back into her personal prison of torment.  "He left me too."

 

"Babette?"  The American girl moved to sit on the couch, then thought

better

of it and instead rested a hand on Babette’s shoulder.  "What happened

back

in May?"

 

Babette supported her forehead with one hand, appearing to be debating about something.  After a few moments, she nodded slowly.  "I’ll tell you, but first".  She raised her gaze to meet Annie’s.  "May I have a cup of tea?"

 

Annie nodded "Sure."

 

She made her way into the kitchen then stopped dead in her tracks.  The trail of decay in the living was only a segue to what lay in back.  Old food seemed to be migrating out of a pile of garbage where one would assume there had once been a can to hold it.  An old table with a single chair in the center of the room seemed only to serve as an island of refuge for any insects who may have gotten lost in the sea of scum.  Dirty pots and pans that appeared to have gone months without feeling the soft touch of water or soap littered the counters.  A single plant stood dead in the corner by the stove, its leaves black and withering.  Suppressing a shudder of revulsion,

Annie started searching for the tea supplies.

 

Babette stared out the window, watching the world go by as she always did from her living room.  Down below, people went about their daily lives.  Going to work, falling in love, eating meals, being alone; all these things could be seen from her perch.  It was the same view as it always was, though, and she was beginning to get bored with it.

 

Wait there, across the street.  Was it?  It couldn’t be; he was in jail far away.  Babette stood to get a better look, but her window as too dirty.  Frowning she started to push it open.

 

Annie leaned with her back against the refrigerator, her face slightly white.  Out of curiosity or just plain naivete, she had opened the fridge to see if there was any milk.  The sight that had greeted her was, no, she didn’t want to think about it anymore.

 

Hidden under some relatively clean newspapers had been an equally, relatively clean kettle.  She got the water started, then scoured the kitchen for a tea bag suitable for being made into tea and a cup as suited for holding said tea.

 

No sooner had she found them, the sound of shattering glass sounded from the living room.  Accompanying it was a small shriek of surprise, then a sickening thud along with something that sounded like crunching.

 

Annie ran out into the living room.  Babette was not on the couch.  In fact, she wasn’t anywhere in the room at all.  The window was wide open, that wasn’t true.  The window was slightly open, yes, but there was a large hole in the center where the glass was missing.  Like something had fallen through it.  Or someone!

 

Annie ran to the window and looked down.  Babette’s body was sprawled out on the sidewalk, a large pool of blood already beginning to spread out beneath her.  The woman’s neck and back were at odd, opposite angles to one another.   She was clearly dead and her secret dead with her.  People were gathering around to see what had happened.  Unsure of what to do, Annie went down to join them.

 

Sunday

 

Babette was buried the next day.  A small funeral marked her passage, with Annie, Jacques and the landlord the only ones in attendance.  Afterwards, all three of them began the daunting task of cleaning out the dead woman’s apartment.  It seemed the right thing to do.

 

In the bedroom, Jacques found the rest of the photos depicting JC and Babette’s "wild night", as well as the bracelet that was supposed to be a gift for Annie.  He placed all these items in his pocket with the intention of disposing of them later.  No need to make Annie upset at a time like this.  Tonight was her going-away party and he wanted everything to be perfect.

 

After having dinner with Claude, Annie and Jacques went to Mimi and Frank’s, friends from school.  Entering Annie couldn’t help but let herself get carried into the spirit of the party.  Everything was very pretty, neat and clean, as it always was there, but the festive decorations somehow made it look even more inviting than usual.

 

Everyone was having a good time when Frank turned on the TV.  He had just gotten a new satellite feed for it and wanted to show it off.  A concert in Disney World caught his attention; one of the guys in the group looked vaguely familiar.  "Hey Annie!  Can you come here a minute?"

 

Annie answered his call from across the room, sipping from her wineglass.  "What’s up?"

 

Then she caught a look at what was on the screen and froze, the glass almost dropping from her hand to the carpet.

 

It was a close-up of JC singing a ballad.  He looked and sounded like an angel, putting all of his heart and soul into a song called "Sailing."  The energy and raw emotion was tangible in the room.  Annie felt her knees starting to buckle as her breath became shallow and loud in her ears.  A seat!  She had to sit down.  She was going to pass out.

 

"Annie?"  Frank put a hand on her shoulder.  "You okay?"

 

She put a shaking hand to her forehead.  "Yeah, I’m fine."

 

"Don’t you know that guy?"  He nodded towards the TV.  "Wasn’t he the guy you were seeing a couple of months ago."

 

"What?"  Oh no, he was just a friend."

 

By this time, more people were starting to crowd around to see the concert.

 

"These guys are good," Someone murmured from the background.

 

"Listen to those harmonies," came another awed whisper.

 

Someone nearby nodded.  "You rarely hear harmonies that good except among family members."

 

"Great dance moves, too."

 

Annie had to leave; to get away.  Her emotions taking her on the equivalent to the Draken Fire roller coaster of Busch Gardens, Virginia.  This was a truly nasty device that eventually had to be deconstructed because it injured many of its riders with whiplash, headaches and cuts to the poor fools dumb enough to leave their earrings in while riding it.  Basically, not a very pleasant experience.

 

She made her way over to Jacques.  "Please, let’s go to the balcony.  I need some air."

 

He guided her out, then went and brought her a glass of water.

 

She accepted it gratefully.  "Thanks."  She took a long drink, then smiled weakly at him.  "He looked good, don’t you think?

 

"Yes."  Jacques gave her a sidelong look.  "Annie are you alright?"

 

She sighed, closing her eyes and holding the glass against her forehead.  "No, I can’t breathe.  I thought I could handle this, but I can’t.  A tear traced its way down her cheek.  "Please take me home."

 

Both made their excuses and left, riding in silence back to Claude’s. 

They walked in and Annie made a beeline for her room there.  Everything from her apartment had already been taken care of, so she was staying with them for the remainder of hr time in Paris.

 

Claude watched Annie enter her room, then turned to Jacques.  "What happened?"  The young man told him, then watched as the older man went to her room and knocked on the door.  Annie responded through the door that she wanted to be alone, so Claude honored her wishes.  Rosemarie, however, was a different story.  One pitiful meow at the door was enough to get her access inside.  The cat was going to be staying behind with Claude and Jacques when Annie had to return to the United States.

 

Monday

 

The next morning, Annie got up and entered the kitchen, smiling.  In her hands was a small box addressed to JC.  She went over to Claude and kissed him on the cheek.  "Claude, thank you for everything that you’ve done for me.  I don’t know how I could have survived without your love.  I’m going to miss you so much."  She turned to Jacques.  "Jacques, could you please send this to JC for me?  I want him to have this."

 

"Okay."  To himself, though, he smiled.  I’ll just add a few things to it before it gets sent off.  Jacques knew the pictures of JC and Babette were faked; it was obvious to anyone giving them more than a cursory glance.  But, of course, he had another reason for knowing they were fake. 

Jacques had been the one who had taken the photographs.

 

Naturally, Babette would never have agreed to do something so malicious.  She was insane and delusional, yes, but not cruel.  So, he had persuaded her by calling it a game.  All she had to do was pretend that she and JC had sex, then make sure to give the pictures to Annie.  And of course, JC couldn’t know about it either.

 

Looking back on it though, Jacques had to admit Babette had been very clever, preying on Annie’s emotions and vulnerability.  Deep inside, he felt that he should tell Annie the truth.  But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  She still wanted JC, while Jacques had been ever at her side, always faithful and true to her alone.

 

Besides, what could that "Pretty Boy" give her?  He didn’t even have a steady job, yet; surely, Annie deserved better that.  Someone who had more in common with her.  Besides, he thought to himself, who would tell?  Babette was dead, and JC certainly wouldn’t want to reveal anything. 

He’d be too embarrassed by the photos, destroying them before anyone could get a good look at them.  Oh sure, she was going away, but he would still court her from afar.  There was always hope.

 

Everyone ate their breakfast in silence.  This was their last day together.  When it was time to go, Annie walked from room to room, touching things here and there as if to cement them in her memory.  She re-entered the kitchen with tears in her eyes.

 

"It’s time for me to go," she sobbed.  "I have dreaded this day since I first met both of you.  You are my family.  Please" Another sob cut off her words.  "Promise that you’ll write."

 

Claude took her hand to provide comfort.  "Of course.  Everyday".   Annie moved closer and threw her arms around him.  "I will miss you the most."  She whispered.

 

The two of them continued hugging locked in the embrace.  After several moments, Jacques touched her shoulder gently.  "It’s time to leave for the airport now."

 

Claude caressed her face.  "Annie, may God watch over you and keep you safe.   I pray He gives you blessing and joy."  He wiped one tear away with his thumb, staring into her face.  "I love you so much."

 

Annie smiled through her sadness.  "I love you too, Grandpere Claude."  They embraced one more time, and then she walked out to the car.

 

Jacques drove her to the airport.  While they were waiting, he handed her a small box.  Annie gave him a strange look, then opened it.  What she saw inside took her breath away.  "Jacques."  She whispered.  "What is this?"

 

He took her hands in his.  "Annie, I know that you have always loved me as a brother.  Yet, I was hoping I could change your mind.  Will you marry me?"

 

"No," she replied gently, turning away.  "I can’t.  You are a dear, sweet, loving man, but I don’t love you in that way."

 

"But, I have enough love for the both of us.  In time, you could grow to love me."

 

"No, it wouldn’t be fair.  You deserve better."  She faced him again.  "You shouldn’t settle for less than someone who loves you like you love them.  I am very flattered, but I cannot accept your proposal."

 

Jacques face darkened.  "It’s JC, isn’t it?  He still holds your heart."

 

"No, that’s not true."

 

"Annie, I saw your reaction to him last night.  You’re fooling yourself."

 

"He betrayed me, for that, I can never trust him.  In my heart, I have forgiven him, but it can never be as it once was."

 

Jacques sighed, then looked pleadingly into her eyes.  "Annie, would you at least do me the honor of putting the ring on your finger for a few minutes?  At least that?  For me?"

 

Annie hesitated.  "I don’t know."

 

"Please"

 

"Alright."  She held out her left hand as Jacques slipped the ring on.  Nearby, someone dressed to fit into the crowd covertly took a picture of the scene.

 

Once the ring was on, Jacques gave her a hug, followed by a kiss.  "Jacques, please."  Annie took off the ring.  "Don’t".  She returned the ring to him.

 

The loudspeakers of the airport chose that moment to save Annie.  "Flight 802 for New York Coty now boarding at Gate 11."

 

"That’s my flight."  For some reason, Annie was grateful for the interruption.  "I have to go."  She seemed about to hug him, then changed her mind and picked up her bag.  "Please don’t forget to mail my package."  Annie then disappeared down the walkway towards the plane.

 

Oh, I’ll take care if it, Jacques thought to himself as he watched her go.  "I’m a patient man, Annie.  Someday I’ll convince you that we belong together."

 

As Annie’s plane began its taxi down the runway, Jacques was adding the final piece to JC’s package.  "I’m sending this out to you, JC", he chuckled darkly.  "With all my love."

 

Tuesday

 

Johnny was giving the boys of *Nsync a pep talk in his office, raining praise on them for their performance at Disney and how well the concert had been received.  It was now official; they were on their way.

 

"Oh, JC.  This came for you today."  He slid a package across the desk towards the young man.  Taking it, JC saw it was postmarked Paris.

 

In Paris, Jacques was minding the store when Claude came storming in from the back.  In his hand were two of the pictures featuring Babette and JC.  Somehow, they had fallen out of the box of things Annie had left behind.  The ones Babette had hand-delivered to Annie on the day she died.

 

Claude came up, eyes burning with anger.  "Jacques, what is the meaning of this?!  Does Annie know these pictures are a fraud?"

 

< Paris >