Un Jour Dans La Vie

I was overwhelmed, completely overwhelmed by the shocking news. I looked out the window and watched as the wind blew the blades of grass around the yard westward. I took a deep breath and a massive smile soon followed. I turned around to look at Teresa who was undoubtedly happy to see the glistening in my eyes and my smile. Something I think has been absent for far too long. “This… is the greatest moment of my life,” I exclaimed as I spun her around in the air laughing gleefully. Never before had I felt so accomplished. I finally had the feeling that my life was something of value, worth the merit that I perceived it to be, and for the first time in my life I’d have a complete family.

Over the next week we arranged for our works to be sold through multiple exhibitions ran from our home. It was a lot harder to do this, too limit ourselves to one venue and without the help of the group I had previously established to bring more attention but we were persistent and we knew we could do it. After the events we sold most of our paintings. The benefits of being some of the most successful artists of Paris in the twenties, that being we have no problems with selling our paintings. Despite our fame we remained humble and while Teresa liked to go out I became more and more reclusive. It never seemed to bother her so I stayed true to what I was becoming – whatever that was.

A couple days after we had the selling the insurance policy of Francis’s came through and with that money we were able to stay secure for the rest of our lives. We officially hired Henry as the caretaker of the family, a job he was glad to accept, despite already being that just without the pay or title. We decided we were going to head out to Aix-En-Provence for a vacation and look around to see if we could find a nice villa. Parisian life was just becoming too much for me and Teresa, while loving the attention she was receiving, was always open to new living ventures.

“Branden, this is amazing, don’t you think so?” Teresa asked while she and I were sunbathing out on the patio of a villa we were renting for the vacation and looking into purchasing.

“Of course it is, darling. Everything is perfect. I haven’t been happier in my life,” I said as I clutched her hand and smiled.

A week later we board the train back to Paris and there was a sense of dread. It wasn’t the trip or each other, no bitterness on ourselves, but a resentment of returning to the capital city. It is a wonderful place but I have grown tired of metropolitan life. Aix was a perfect substitute to the big city. Quite opposite in their presentation, and that made it hard to go back home.

“Ride is rather bumpy today, wouldn’t you say?” A passenger sitting next to Teresa asked.

She let out a gentle hmm and a nod of her head. She had come off as rude to the passenger and this was very apparent in the appearance of his disgruntled face. I shook my head ever so slightly and hid my face behind the newspaper I was reading. I looked around the cab through my peripherals and started to think back in New York, that stewardess, I wondered how she was doing. Well I hoped. I had started to feel a little bit of guilt on how cold I was with her before I got on my boat to leave New York. I shrugged and ordered a glass of absinthe, no matter how rude I was and no matter I feel about it now it is in the past and I quickly moved past that.

I looked out onto the countryside we were plowing through on the tram and asked Teresa if she saw the beauty I saw, or did she just see a bunch of grass and flowers? I got no response. I called her name but still looking out the window. Once again I was greeted to silence. “Teresa,” I exclaimed, “What are you- oh” I said. She was knocked out. I asked the stewardess for a blanket and I covered her up and sat beside her for the rest of the trip.

“Teresa, honey you have to wake up,” I told her, ‘we’ve arrived back in Paris. We have to step off the train now.” She was coming to but still groggy and not completely aware of what was going on. She was asleep for quite some time. Henry was waiting for us with a smile, typical of him. He was such a happy gentleman. We get a ride and she is silent the whole ride out; completely out of it and drifting in and out of being awake and asleep. We arrive home and I put her to bed and I walk down the stairs to have a drink with Henry. We start catching up on small things, how he was and what he was doing before he came here and suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“Who could that be at this time?” I wondered.

“Would you like me to answer the door, sir?” Henry inquired.

“No thank you, Henry, I got this.”

I wasn’t expecting any visitors and Henry said he wasn’t either so it must’ve been for Teresa. I open the door and like some automated message I inform them that Teresa is asleep and that she isn’t to be bothered. Not bothering to see who awaited me at the door.
It was Claire, Pierre and Hemmingway.

“RENOIR!” they all exclaimed in unison, “It’s been far too long old buddy! How have you been?”
I stood there, babbling like a half minded buffoon and rambled on incoherently trying to string together half spoken words and sounded drunk. After I had finally come to reality, that my three greatest friends are here with me again, I gathered my excitement and started to talk more coherently.

“You guys, it’s been a long time. I have been good! I ran into some issues, a falling out with myself and my sanity after you guys departed but I am back on track and I’m feeling great and happy finally. Teresa and I are expecting our first child pretty soon! How are you guys doing? Oh I missed you all so!” I started to whimper with teary eyes.

They looked at each other and smiled. “Yes, we know of your expected child. That’s one of the reasons why we returned. We wanted to congratulate you on that one last time.” Pierre exclaimed.
“One last time?” I asked with a quizzitive tone.

“Well yes Branden… Well for me and Pierre anyway. But fret not dear friend,” Claire said, “We settled our differences and are living in London right now. We don’t have the profits needed to make the trip back out here over and over again.”

It was upsetting to know that was to be a limited engagement but they also told me that they will be here for two days and while that is short I knew I had to make the best out of that time – and that’s exactly what I had set out to do. Seeing them was certainly a triumph for tired eyes, yet still one thing bothered me.

“How did you all know about our expected child? Who was the conductor of this homecoming?” I asked. Hemmingway lifted a finger from his pipe and pointed with both the finger and his eyes at Henry who was watching us all gather together and he was obviously joyful.

I mouthed the words thank you at Henry while I and the gang had a group hug. I never expected this to happen again. Tell Teresa we’ll be at the café if she needs me for anything. I’ll be catching up on old times.

“Ouch! I burnt my finger!” Hemmingway whined while lighting his pipe. We all had laughed. It’s been a long time since we did this.

“So Hemmingway,” I asked, “where have you been? You’re looking rather scruffy. Seem a little… er… weathered.” I asked.

“After that meeting we had in the café I left Paris and France and headed out to Venice, Italy where I owned a shop. It was nothing special just a tailor shop but I ended up selling it and now I live with on my own in Venice. It’s a nice place. I’ve been spending a lot of time… umm… visiting the seedy underbelly of Venice’s more morally corrupt venues. I know you know a thing or two about that one, Renoir.” Hemmingway told me. Claire let out a small gasp.

“Good one, Charles.” Pierre said laughing.

“Hmm, well Hemmingway why are you looking so besmirched?” I asked.

“He shifted his eyes toward the light fixtures and squinted them. So Pierre and Claire… you guys are looking well. How have you guys been doing?” Hemmingway asked, completely ignoring my question. It was obvious he was trying to hide something but I didn’t feel entitled to pry into his issues when we are all just reconnecting.

“We’re doing just fine! We originally didn’t know either of us was going to London of all places, it was a surprise to us when we bumped into each other. We kept in contact and started to meet up and after a while we took things… more seriously. We started dating and now here we are. Happy as could be-” Claire Said.

“-Even more so than we were now that the old band is back together.” Pierre intervened.
It was a shock to hear and see that they are a couple now. But it wasn’t a bad thing. In those days we all need someone and I was glad to see that they had each other. It would be a shame to see them live their lives out without anyone else and who better than the one you’ve known for so long.

This made me think of Hemmingway. He was laughing and talking the entire day but there was something… wrong with him. It was apparent but I already decided I wouldn’t pry and I stuck to that. Teresa walked in the bar with Henry and we had something to drink, except for Teresa for obvious reasons, and they got her caught up on everything that’s been going on with them. We spent hours in that bar until we all decided that it was getting late and that we needed to be heading to our homes.

That was the last time I ever seen them. It was bittersweet. Hemmingway said he was heading back to Venice in the morning and that Pierre and Claire wanted to head up north for the day to go visit her folks at their home in Le-Havre, France. Hemmingway ended up leaving the painting life and settled down as a simple man of business. It was never a shock that he entered business. The man was made for it but what did come as a shock was how broken he looked. He didn’t have that charm, that charisma, that drive that personified him before. Now that I think about it I lacked those same traits I did when I was younger. Age and loss does terrors to one.

Pierre left Impressionism behind in Paris and moved on to something more classical – more refined and more disciplined. I can’t say it’s a bad call. Impressionism wasn’t fulfilling his artistic needs and he needed something more grounded and stable. Still, I couldn’t imagine the transition. Maybe that was because I was devoted to Impressionism. Nothing else could substitute it for me. Claire, like Hemmingway, left painting entirely. She got into ballet. A most welcome of changes as far as Teresa was concerned I’m sure.

Suddenly my friends showed up again and just like that they were gone. I wanted to make the best of the time I had with them – and I appreciated every moment of it – but it left me longing for more. Something more permanent with them like what we had before. I didn’t want to think about it though so I asked Teresa if she was ready to go home and call it a night. She agreed and would’ve liked nothing more.

We arrive home again and Teresa wasn’t feeling well so I have her go to sleep. I was tired but I knew with the night’s events I’d just toss and turn in a feverish rush of memories.

“Master,” Henry quietly said, “you received a phone call while you were out. A Madame Elsie I believe.”

“Thanks Henry,” I said. I walked over to the phone and gave her a call.

“Hi Branden, nice to hear from you,” she said, “I was wondering if you would like to meet at the church tomorrow morning. I haven’t any ideas how you are holding up since I last saw you but a word with the good lord can’t do much harm, now can it?” she asked.

“No, I uhh I suppose it couldn’t. Alright Elsie, I’ll see you there, say ten sharp?”

“Ten? Try nine, honey. See you then. Au revoir.”

I hang up and pat Henry on the shoulder and tell him that I will be going to bed.

The next morning we woke up to the sound of birds chirping on the lamps outside on the streets. “I was thinking… maybe we should go to church today.” I offered Teresa. She looked at me with a look of disbelief. Of all the things I would ever say that must have ranked low on the charts. She agrees as she sips on her coffee Henry made for us before heading into town for some groceries. We walk down the street to a church not too far from our home. There was fog covering the streets and it was beautiful, quite a serene sight. We walk up the steps and walk inside. I see the congregation was already in session so we quietly take a seat hoping the minister wouldn’t see us. Elsie walked out of the restroom shaking her hands dry and a look of attraction washes over her face as she sees me. She waltzes over to us and takes a seat. There was a foul tension filling the air and it was most palpable.

“Teresa, this is Elsie. I believe you know of her.”

Teresa had a scowl face and you could practically see flames spewing out of her eyes. She was mad. It was like I was introducing an ex-girlfriend to her – which wasn’t the case, but it may as well have been. Teresa sat there and stared down Elsie. Drilling a hole through her and a look a discomfort washed across Elsie’s porcelain face.

“Hello Teresa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Elsie said as she extended her hand.

“Yes, pleasures all mine.” Teresa said as she grinded her teeth together squeezing Elsie’s hand.

Another look of discomfort came across Elsie’s face as she jerked her hand from Teresa’s grip.

“Elsie,” I said nervously, “we are expecting our first child soon. It’s a momentous occasion and that must be why my sweetheart here is acting so… unpleasant. Forgive me for this.”

Elsie smiled and congratulated us on the expected and noted that it was fine. She understood completely. I looked at Teresa and seen that she didn’t take very kindly to the words that I had said to Elsie. I gulped nervously. I knew I was going to be in hot water by the end of the day.

“Thank you Elsie. You’re congratulations is quite important to us, it’s very important.” Teresa said with a bitterly sarcastic and monotone voice.

Elsie was growing increasingly nervous as was I. I was nervous on multiple fronts. I could see that Teresa was blistering with rage and I needed to wrap this up before she went into the deep end. Luckily I wasn’t the one to say goodbye. Oh, I was always terrible at goodbyes.

“I must go you two. I have an important meeting today with some friends at a local tavern. I’d invite you two but… it seems you may have some further plans that don’t leave much room for leanway. Until next time.” She waved and walked away.

“Where are you going? To go sleep with every guy you see at the local bar?” Teresa said under her breath when Elsie walked away.

I opened my mouth in shock after I heard her and gave her a look, a look that said “what the hell?” she knew she pissed me off but she didn’t care all that much. I knew I had pissed her off way more. She was succumbed by jealousy… and raging hormones. The sermon concluded and after the congregation disbanded we sat on the steps of the church and talked for a few moments about what happened, and everything went fine for at least two minutes then Teresa flipped out on me.

“I feel like you’re disrespecting me, a metaphorical slap to the face by bringing your ex here to see me and you.” Teresa told me.

“What? No,” I exclaimed, “it never was meant to be taken as such. And ex? No never. We had no connections other than friendship and an easy lay.”

“Oh! That’s even worse!” Teresa shouted with anger and sadness. The shout echoed throughout the streets, “I don’t even know what to say to you right now Branden. Can you go home or leave or something for a while? I need to clear my thoughts.”

And so I departed the church at my lover’s request. I left and went down to the café down by the church. The sights of happy people enjoying their meals and drinks warmed my aging heart. Life, as an art form was a beautiful sight, no matter how sad I was. I knew that Teresa’s anger was due in part to misunderstanding and her being pregnant. That helped me maintain composure but not that much. I was prone to attacking myself, finding my role in all events around me, even ones I’m not related to. It wasn’t that I enjoyed doing it; I was just that kind of guilty person.

Later on I went back home. Feeling guilty I walked inside like a dog with its tail between its legs. Teresa tries to call out to me but I ignored it and walked inside to gather my art supplies. When I walked to the door to head back outside Teresa stands in the way and stops me.

“I… I am sorry babe; I didn’t mean to snap like that. That was completely uncharacteristic of me.” Teresa said a melancholy tone.

With a smile I told her I understood but apologies were unneeded, because she was right. I shouldn’t have done that. I invited her to join me in going down the café while I painted it. we gather our things and I take a gun for protection. There has been some reports of crimes being committed as of late and I wasn’t about to risk my love and child’s lives. She joins me and we take a stroll down the cobblestone street to the café. When we arrive the place is rather full but amidst the hordes of people I spotted someone sitting in the crowd. I saw my father again.

“Father, what are you doing here now?” I asked him.

“I enjoy this café, it’s full of life. It reminds me of everything from long ago. Do you remember when you were really young? When I laid you down on the floor to listen to some music?” my father asked me.

“No I don’t recall. Why do you ask?” I questioned.

“You died. It was a short passing and you came back. Do you remember the feeling, the feeling of euphoria, of nirvana? Think back to that feeling, Branden.” My father pleaded.

“I remember it. It was heavenly bliss. Perfection for what felt like an eternity.” I whimpered.

“Wouldn’t you like to experience that feeling again, permanently? I know you have a gun on you.

You’ve been reading about people needing to take more precautions. Why not use it on yourself? It will hurt, but only for a second. And poof… it’s done. You’ll ask when will it happen… when will you go? When asking that you can look on the floor and see your body, you’ll have already have gone and you will be at peace.”

“No, you’re not real. You’re in my imagination that’s all.”

“Branden, I’m hurt. If I'm not real then how am I talking to you right now? You can hear me, no? You openly acknowledge me, no? Obviously there must be something real to me if you can answer yes to any of these questions” Father said.

In the crowd of people I pulled out a pistol and turned it on myself. The screaming and hollering was deafening. Even people who didn’t know what was going on was adding to the commotion. Someone stopped me from doing anything just as I was pulling the trigger. Frightened people all around me were screaming in fear. Teresa was amongst the frightened people. She was petrified. She didn’t know what I was doing; nor did I.

I was knocked unconscious by a bystander, hoping that when I came to I’d be more alert. He was unaware as to what was the problem but it was painfully obvious to everyone there that I had been hallucinating. Talking to someone who wasn’t there and answering questions that no one asked.
When I came to I was lying in his bed with Teresa right at my side grasping my hand crying and Henry patting my forehead with a washrag.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You… tried to kill yourself Branden,” Teresa said with teary eyes. “What made you want to do that?”

“I saw my father and I don’t remember much after that. I remember that he trying to convince me to kill myself.” I told her.

Teresa and Henry looked at each other with a look of concern.

“Master Branden,” Henry said “Teresa and I have talked while you were unconscious. We feel it would be in your best interest that you be admitted to a mental facility, just for a little while, to get help. We love you and fear that if you don’t get help now we will lose you like we almost did earlier.”
I was unsure if I should go but after thinking about it I figured that this would be the best decision, for all of them and so I agreed. They packed my things and I asked that they instruct the institution that they let me use my paints and let me leave the room when I am feeling stable enough to go outside to paint. Teresa and Henry both felt that this would be highly beneficial to my wellbeing – to my fractured sanity.

Two days later the three of us got in the car and drove over to the mental institution. I was sitting in the back with Teresa. I was grasping my hat and I was incredibly nervous. When we arrived I started to break down and cry.

“I don’t want to be like this. I want to be normal. I am so sorry you guys.” I said as I hugged Teresa, crying on her shoulder.

“We will write to you as much as possible and you won’t be in here long. Just please Branden, try and get better. You deserve so much better than this.” Teresa said as she cried and gave me a kiss.
I waved goodbye to them and walked inside the hospital. I was taken to my room where they searched me and my belongings to make sure that I had nothing that could be harmful. I had a journal and pencil and this aroused suspicion in the attendants but the main attendant allowed it. They found nothing that would lead to any dangers and so they closed the isolation cell.
Moments later the head of the hospital walked inside the cell with a notepad and pen, wanting to talk to me about the problems that were going on.

“I am going to go over some basics about you and we are going to delve a little deeper into your problems, is that okay Mister Renoir?” the head officer asks.
Name: Branden Renoir.
Date of birth: February 7th 1901.
Gender: Male.
So Branden tell me, what happened to bring you in here?”
I looked outside the window and watches as the breeze slides between the leaves of the oak trees outside of my window.

“See that breeze? That’s-that’s what I intend to capture when I paint. I paint to capture moments in time. A chilling reminder, regardless of how trivial they made be, that life is always on the move and nothing is permanent.” I told the doctor with conviction in my voice, as if I was trying to prove something to the doctor. What that something was, if anything, was lost on me.

“That’s very nice Branden but I need an answer.” The doctor told me.
I wasn’t paying a bit of attention when the doctor was asking me the questions. I was too busy trying to cling to something beautiful; ease my troubled mind from the shock of everything that has happened.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” I asked calmly and curiously.
The doctor twitches his shoulders and readjusts his position in the old creaky brown wheel chair he had brought in with him and says “I was asking what it was that had you admitted here?”
“You’re the doctor, the one with the file. Why don’t you tell me?” I said sarcastically.
I quickly apologized; not for the fact that I knew that the doctor was in control of my well being but for an honest reason: I had no reason to be so snappy. The doctor is there to help me and I and explained this to him.

“I am here because I have… problems. I am sporadic and volatile. I tried to commit suicide outside of a café bar and I am having vivid hallucinations of people passed. I have lost the basic ability to tell what is real and what is fake.”

“That is correct. Now, Branden I want you to understand that the staff and I are here to help you. We are not the enemy; we are guidance, we are here to help you get back to who you were. Your wife Teresa and friend Henry both asked that we let you paint outside when you are feeling ok enough to be outside. We saw little harm in this and so we accepted the idea; but under some conditions. Those are that you cannot leave the grounds and you will be under guard at all times outside. Aside from that we will not judge you; we will not test on you. We are here to help.” The doctor told me as he extended his hand outward for a handshake. I accepted the handshake and asked the doctor was his name was just as he was about to leave the room.

“My name you ask? My name is François Pignon” and with that he leaves the room and has the door locked. I laid down on the bed and waits. For what? I wasn’t sure.

“Did we do the right thing, Henry?” Teresa asked with a questionable tone.

“Madame Teresa, I am sure we did. Of course we’ll be absent of someone great; but this is for his wellbeing. It’s better to have him in there and not dead or going mad where he can’t get help.” Henry responded. Teresa nodded in agreement but made little sound. She just glared outside the car window and stared at the cold, snowy streets of Paris. She was nervous and frightened at what the future held for her and her family. She didn’t want her daughter to grow up without a father. She could find solace in Henry, he was a caring soul; but he wasn’t the same. At least it was something though.

Days pass and I asked his clinic caretaker if I will be allowed to go onto the grounds. The caretaker agrees and I darted out of my cell with my supplies like a child released for recess. I got to get out and breathe fresh air and surround myself with what I cherished so much: nature. I set up my easel and feverishly painted.

“You know, back at my home I have a garden. Built it myself from scratch and it breathed life into me. That’s what something to create can do to you: give you life. It’s a therapeutic thing to be quite frank with you.” I told my caretaker. He seemed to be generally interested in what I had to say and I was quick to pick up on that. For being something of an introvert we loved to talk when I could find someone who would listen. Like a mad obsessed preacher he went on.

I was on a frantic pace of painting during my stay there. I’d be pushing out a painting a day; maybe even two if I was in the mood and conditions were favorable.

Days rolled by, started slow at first and soon those days turned into months, four months to be exact. Four months have passed since I was first admitted. Teresa and I were writing letters back and forth to each other like schoolyard crushes. An excellent example of beauty in simplicity. The letters and paintings helped me get through my days but I could never get over the fact that I could possibly miss my daughter’s birth. This troubled me. Nevertheless I always held hope high.

One day he receives a letter from Teresa discussing names for our soon to be born daughter.
“Branden, I am happy to hear from you! I worry about you and I hope you’re doing well. From what you tell me despite homesickness you seem to be doing well. I am glad that the head master answered our wishes and let you paint. I know painting is all you have really. It’s a religious thing of sorts for you. No gods, no masters. Only your canvas and paints. I know that feeling all too well so I was sure to really push on that request. I was thinking of names and I was thinking of the name Madeline Clara Renoir. I know that those names hold a lot of meaning to you and they are very nice names. The doctors said that we are both physically healthy and the pregnancy should be an easy event. Well Branden I need to make me henry and I some lunch here so I got to make this short. I love you so much doll. I hope you can be released soon but only if you feel that you should be. Take care of yourself.

Love always, Teresa Renoir.”

Another month had passed since I received that letter from Teresa and I was really feeling the pressures of loneliness. My caretaker had been an overwhelming support for me this entire time and all of the staff has done everything they could do to make my life as easy as possible.
I was asleep on my bed when I could hear the shuffling of footsteps nearing my door. I sat up on my bed and waited. I was expecting for it to be the cook serving dinner. I was shocked to see I was mistaken. It was the head officer.

“Branden, we came to inform you that you have shown tremendous amounts of recovery. In the entire time you had spent in here you have only had 3 breakdowns. That is an amazing improvement. I wanted to go over some paperwork with you and then you will be free to leave.”
I was full of glee and cheer. I complied fully and in ten minutes I was out the front door to see Teresa and Henry waiting for me by the car. I rushed down the steps and to the people I loved and gave them a loving embrace.

“I’ve missed you guys so very much!” I wept violently. “I am back and I am going to spend my life long, living with my family. A family of my own. This is marvelous.” I shouted loudly.
The three of us head home and we spent the next few weeks returning to the groove of normal life. I spent a lot of time with a paintbrush cusped in between my fingers and a cigarette in between my lips. I painted away bonding more and more with the art I loved so very dearly. I painted Teresa and Henry outside of the garden with the moonlight illuminating them ceremoniously. The days and nights were full of joy, laughs and comfort of not being around the pressures of life and the people in it. They were all happy just being with one another.

About a month after I returned home Teresa was feeling ill. She wasn’t sure why. Pretty soon she was getting violently sick; vomiting uncontrollably, high fevers and everything of that sort. Unsure as to what is happening I rushed her to the hospital not too far from our home. The doctors do an exam and find that she needs to be operated on right away. She was having pregnancy complications.
I was on the top of the world, I could touch the stratosphere from where I was, grab a star from the star like an apple from a tree and just as quickly as I had gotten up there the merciless hands of fate shoved me off with no remorse. I sat in the waiting room, shaking and smoking cigarette after cigarette till I went through three packs. My face was drenched in sweat and I couldn’t stop mumbling incoherently at myself. Henry arrives shortly after I gotten her to the ER. I tried my hardest to explain the situation but between a rush of words that Henry couldn’t make out and what I was saying and my panicking wasn’t helping figure it out.

“Calm down Branden. I will ask the doctor. You just sit there and I’ll find out what is wrong.”

“Sir… I don’t know how to inform you but the child’s chances are slim and that’s being generous. We are unsure what the cause is but we think we will be dealing with a miscarriage here. We have yet to inform the father for he is too distraught to receive such news. At least until we are sure what happens. I am very sorry.” The doctor told Henry in a whispering tone.

I hung my head in shame and depression. I put a pair of sunglasses on to hide my tears.

“Don’t be sorry,” Henry said “just do what you can. That’s all you can do.”

“The doctors are telling that they will pull through just fine. Your daughter might be born tonight…” Henry told me.

I looked at Henry with an empty look and asked if he was lying. Henry hung his head low. Tears started to pour from my eyes and I started to shake uncontrollably. I stood up from my seat and asked if I can go see Teresa and be there for her. “Whatever happens she shouldn’t have to be there alone” I thought. I walked in and saw Teresa lying in bed, in agony and crying. I rushed over to her, trying not to hit anything on the way over and gives her a hug. Resting my hand behind her head and running my hand through her hair like she always liked.

“Baby, I love you. I love our daughter. I love our family. We’re strong and I know we will be able to pull through this. I know we will. You just have to believe. You have to want to pull through- and I know you want to more than anyone. I love you so much.” I rested my forehead on hers and my tears drip down her forehead.

The doctor remorsefully asks if I can possibly leave the room. I complied and headed back to the waiting room to receive the news; whatever that news may be. An hour or less passes and I was soaking from sweat. My eyes were so red from crying I looked as if I’ll start bleeding from them soon. Henry gives my knee a slap of acknowledgement; to let me know that he is there for us.

The doctors leave the room and as soon as that door opened and the doctors came out so did the foreboding stench of regret. I could see it on the faces of everyone who came out the doors. Their faces said more than any amount of words could say. It didn’t end well. I was motionless as I saw the doctor look at me and let out a big sigh of disappointment and hung his head. Those little actions were all it took for me to know for sure. I walked calmly to the room to find Teresa sleeping from a concentrated dose of morphine to help her. I sat next to her and held her hand. I cried all night long and never left her side.

Next couple days we all gathered our things and went to Aix-en- Provence to go the funeral of their unborn child. They had bought a monastery there prior to all of this. St. Peter cemetery was somber and empty. They arrive and are dressed for the occasion. I walked up to the tombstone they have had placed for her with Teresa at my side, arm in arm. Teresa is a complete mess at this moment, and has been ever since our child’s death.

“Here lies the dedication of Madeline Clara Renoir.
A soul taken before it was granted a chance to flourish.
Rest in peace.”

The date on the tombstone was covered by the flowers that the couple had laid on the stone. I looked at Henry and motioned with my head to come over to us. He was as much of this family as anyone. Teresa is paying her respects and weeping and I saw this was an opportunity to tell Henry something.
“Henry, I am not going back to Paris. There is nothing for me there and I feel like I will be better off living here, in Provence, away from everything.” I wept.

“What about Teresa sir? You can’t leave her like this. She needs you to be there for her.” Henry protests.

“I know Henry, I know. I can’t though. I can’t be around her and suffer another breakdown. She’s been through enough and I love her too much to that to her. I love her and that’s why I have to go. I can’t kill her. I am going to have you stay with her and help her along. You’re more of a help than I could ever be Henry, and I am forever thankful for having you in my life. Please though, never explain the truth as to why I won’t go back with her. In time she’ll understand but not yet. She needs to feel some kind of bitterness toward me. It’ll help her… I wish it’d be simpler…and could you please bring me my art supplies, clothes and cat?”

Henry stands there and weeps “yes-yes if that’s what you want me to do sir then that’s what I’ll do. I love you master Branden.”

I walked up to Teresa with Henry and rubbed her back and gave her a hug. No words were said; none needed to be. We held hands and walk past the well-kept flower pots and crumbling stones that filled the cemetery. We walked to the car and I grabbed Teresa for one last embracing kiss on her tender, trembling lips. I took her hand, helped her into the car and closed the door; quite chivalrous. I looked at her and she knew something is going on.

“Branden will you get in the car… please?” Teresa pleaded. I shook his head in disagreement.

“I can’t Teresa. I love you so much but I just can’t. I can’t explain to you why I can’t. I want you to go back to Paris and be happy. My house is yours. Henry will stay with you and make sure that you are alright and on your feet. I really do love you but things have to be this way… I swear.”
Back and forth for minutes it was the same thing, Teresa asking for me to change my mind and I continued to stand my ground. Henry wanted to tell Teresa what he wasn’t supposed to and on multiple occasions nearly did but he bit his tongue every time. After the back and forth pleas and denials Teresa accepted it.

“Fine Branden… stay here and do whatever it is that you plan on doing. I don’t give a damn anymore! You’re being so incredibly selfish and evil. When I need you the most you decide to show your true colors? Well that is fine! If this is who you really are I want nothing to do with it. Henry can we go?”
My heartbeat was spotty, barely there one moment and racing the next. I stood in the dirty field in front of the cemetery covered from the dirt that blown back from the automobile with tears running down my face. Everything I loved had gone off into the sunset with a sense of hatred that I feared she’d never resolve.