homeless marguerites - Part 6
As Annie opened the door, she was already confused enough, for all what had happened during the last 5 months, were just too much for her to take. Yet she was standing there and she knew that she wanted to take this step. She wanted to enter this flat and she wanted to look carefully for any sign which could help, no matter how it scared her or confused her; she could only be glad that as a journalist in training, she was already well prepared for both. On the other hand, she was already scared and confused enough not to be really influenced buy the fear or the confusion a flat could provide her with.
This had to be cleared up once and for all.
Annie took a deep breath, got in and closed the door behind her; careful not to make extra noise, although she was absolute that there was no one else there. The first thing she mentioned were the marguerite flowers on the table. They were with no doubt same as the ones she had been receiving until very lately. Feeling weak remembering all what had been going on since Francisco’s wedding, she sat on the chair, playing with the wilting flowers.
Julien had been transferred to another hospital after 3 days, but no one had been told to which. It was about 2 months after that, when Annie had received the very first marguerite. She smiled as she thought about the lovely dashing flower, looking at the wilting ones.
It had mysteriously appeared beside her bed when she had woken up. The first days she had kept it silent and tried her best not to talk to anyone about it. The flowers were bigger than the ones in any shop she had searched in the second week, none o them had anything so fascinating, so warm and friendly and so amazingly white. She loved them more than anything she had ever had. Those days she rarely talked to anyone else than those long lasting flowers. They had warmed her heart up and filled it with joy and happiness every time she had talked to them, although they had had stories of their own, they always listened to Annie without interruption, they had never left her alone. That was why she had been unable to let them go when they had got dried up. She was thankful that Joanne had found her some spray which could prevent them from turning into dust.
For 3 months Annie had done nothing but carefully drying them, spraying them, sorting them, spending her time with them and trying to find out who had been leaving them at her bed. After 3 months when she had finally tricked him and had cut him red handed, yet she had refused to let him in when she saw Julien’s face. She had at once closed the window and although she had seen a totally new look in his eyes and she had seen the marguerite in his hand, she had not let him bring the flower inside. Watching him and the the flower all along the 2 hours he had waited by the window, Annie had remarked that there had been a whole lot difference between the Julien she had known till Francisco’s wedding and the one who was waiting to put the marguerite beside her bed. When he had finally left the flower at the window, leaving in a hurry without looking back, Annie had finally felt calm without even knowing why.
She got up and went towards the bed, for there was no separate bedroom. Looking at his bed Annie could not help how the night after she had seen Julien for the last time at the window, after dinner she stepped into her bedroom with a bed covered in marguerites.
“After that, there has been no more trace of him, or any other marguerite.” Thought Annie as she touched a poster of Notre Damme cathedral on the wall. That was why she was there; the mystery had to be solved. She noticed something much smaller under the poster, so she slowly and carefully took it off the wall and then she saw a small postcard with another cathedral pictured on it. The postcard had been torn off and pasted together again. This made it much harder to read what was written on the backside. Annie finally read “Frauenkirche, Dresden”. Annie put it in her bag when the photos on the shelf drew her attention to themselves. There were a few academical photos and a few of him with his mother, his aunt and her family.
Annie thought of Madame Manceau and how she had refused to provide her with any real information, giving her the keys for this flat, telling her that if anything was to be found, it would be found here, right where Annie stood now.
There was an outstanding frame with broken glass which held a picture of somewhat 16 year old Julien with is parents. Annie picked it up, in order to take the photo out when she found out that there was another photo behind it. It was from the same parents only some years younger with 3 kids, two boys and a girl, but none of the boys looked much like Julien. She turned it around to see if anything was written on the back.
There was written in a childish handwriting “Mutti, Vatti, Ingrid, Stefan und ich. Weihnachten 1937”. Annie thought if it had to be from 1937, so the little boy must have been Julien and he must have written the notes, she took it for granted, and put the photo in her bag with the post card.
Then suddenly, the memory of the Julien at the window and the sorrow in Madame Manceau’s eyes as she gave Annie the keys, made her feel like there was still more to this story. She put her bag down and all of a sudden, as if bewitched, she started turning the flat upside down. To her amazement and her fear, she discovered that everything was somehow doubled in here, it was like a double life, as if one have covered the other up, even under the bed sheets were sheets of another color. What Annie was discovering was so crazy, that she felt she was going to go crazy herself, if she did not leave there at once.
On her way back home she took a closer look at what she had found. She knew she had to go to this Dresden; she had to find this new Julien or whatever his name was. Annie somehow promised herself, that she had to find this name out and she knew to her despair, that Madame Manceau was not going to reveal it to her. Annie was determined; she was going to go to Dresden, no matter what it took her to.
This had to be cleared up once and for all.
Annie took a deep breath, got in and closed the door behind her; careful not to make extra noise, although she was absolute that there was no one else there. The first thing she mentioned were the marguerite flowers on the table. They were with no doubt same as the ones she had been receiving until very lately. Feeling weak remembering all what had been going on since Francisco’s wedding, she sat on the chair, playing with the wilting flowers.
Julien had been transferred to another hospital after 3 days, but no one had been told to which. It was about 2 months after that, when Annie had received the very first marguerite. She smiled as she thought about the lovely dashing flower, looking at the wilting ones.
It had mysteriously appeared beside her bed when she had woken up. The first days she had kept it silent and tried her best not to talk to anyone about it. The flowers were bigger than the ones in any shop she had searched in the second week, none o them had anything so fascinating, so warm and friendly and so amazingly white. She loved them more than anything she had ever had. Those days she rarely talked to anyone else than those long lasting flowers. They had warmed her heart up and filled it with joy and happiness every time she had talked to them, although they had had stories of their own, they always listened to Annie without interruption, they had never left her alone. That was why she had been unable to let them go when they had got dried up. She was thankful that Joanne had found her some spray which could prevent them from turning into dust.
For 3 months Annie had done nothing but carefully drying them, spraying them, sorting them, spending her time with them and trying to find out who had been leaving them at her bed. After 3 months when she had finally tricked him and had cut him red handed, yet she had refused to let him in when she saw Julien’s face. She had at once closed the window and although she had seen a totally new look in his eyes and she had seen the marguerite in his hand, she had not let him bring the flower inside. Watching him and the the flower all along the 2 hours he had waited by the window, Annie had remarked that there had been a whole lot difference between the Julien she had known till Francisco’s wedding and the one who was waiting to put the marguerite beside her bed. When he had finally left the flower at the window, leaving in a hurry without looking back, Annie had finally felt calm without even knowing why.
She got up and went towards the bed, for there was no separate bedroom. Looking at his bed Annie could not help how the night after she had seen Julien for the last time at the window, after dinner she stepped into her bedroom with a bed covered in marguerites.
“After that, there has been no more trace of him, or any other marguerite.” Thought Annie as she touched a poster of Notre Damme cathedral on the wall. That was why she was there; the mystery had to be solved. She noticed something much smaller under the poster, so she slowly and carefully took it off the wall and then she saw a small postcard with another cathedral pictured on it. The postcard had been torn off and pasted together again. This made it much harder to read what was written on the backside. Annie finally read “Frauenkirche, Dresden”. Annie put it in her bag when the photos on the shelf drew her attention to themselves. There were a few academical photos and a few of him with his mother, his aunt and her family.
Annie thought of Madame Manceau and how she had refused to provide her with any real information, giving her the keys for this flat, telling her that if anything was to be found, it would be found here, right where Annie stood now.
There was an outstanding frame with broken glass which held a picture of somewhat 16 year old Julien with is parents. Annie picked it up, in order to take the photo out when she found out that there was another photo behind it. It was from the same parents only some years younger with 3 kids, two boys and a girl, but none of the boys looked much like Julien. She turned it around to see if anything was written on the back.
There was written in a childish handwriting “Mutti, Vatti, Ingrid, Stefan und ich. Weihnachten 1937”. Annie thought if it had to be from 1937, so the little boy must have been Julien and he must have written the notes, she took it for granted, and put the photo in her bag with the post card.
Then suddenly, the memory of the Julien at the window and the sorrow in Madame Manceau’s eyes as she gave Annie the keys, made her feel like there was still more to this story. She put her bag down and all of a sudden, as if bewitched, she started turning the flat upside down. To her amazement and her fear, she discovered that everything was somehow doubled in here, it was like a double life, as if one have covered the other up, even under the bed sheets were sheets of another color. What Annie was discovering was so crazy, that she felt she was going to go crazy herself, if she did not leave there at once.
On her way back home she took a closer look at what she had found. She knew she had to go to this Dresden; she had to find this new Julien or whatever his name was. Annie somehow promised herself, that she had to find this name out and she knew to her despair, that Madame Manceau was not going to reveal it to her. Annie was determined; she was going to go to Dresden, no matter what it took her to.
posted by Einhornin @ 2:36 AM
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