+1+
I rang in the New Year with Niklas.
I dragged him to a club I’d heard of that played House music which, while not classical music, I considered it classical music’s cooler cousin. He complained about being the oldest person there, but we still danced all night. None of our co-workers were surprised to see us getting closer when work started up again. The thing was Fierro was right. Niklas did make me laugh and considering how the rest of that year went I needed it.
By spring Rose got herself kicked out of Le Berne for disobedience and stealing. All she really did was miss a few classes and it wasn’t stealing per se. . . Rose just had a thing about collecting things when she was anxious. The school had a strict zero tolerance policy though. Niklas drove me to Switzerland to protest her expulsion and in the end security had to escort Rose and I out.
So, I got her into a Catholic boarding school in a nice hamlet in Holland, it wasn't completely random because Fierro and Emile decided to take an extended holiday with the floral cultivators in Holland who'd made tulips famous in The Netherlands. Emile went back to London after a few weeks, but Fierro decided to stay. I mean really stay. He bought a small house in the quiet North Holland city of Den Bosch. All of this I heard through Emile, so when the time came that's were I sent Rose to school.The logistics of changing Rose’s school was such a headache and Niklas started asking for more of a commitment from me, and I just wasn’t ready.
I couldn’t even bring myself to be intimate with him because I was tired of rejection. When I got back from getting Rose situated , Niklas ended it with me. We stood outside my apartment building; he talked I cried. I talked then cried some more. Then I had to get up the next morning and work with him. To bad I signed a fucking 2 year contract. Just to keep things interesting Rose managed to get thrown of school after less than a month.
Fierro and I spoke briefly on the phone after Rose got kicked out of school. Even he was starting to see what a handful she was I agreed to let Rose spend the rest of the school year and the first part of summer with him in Den Bosch and the rest of the summer with Emile in London.
When July finally rolled around I’d called Rose to tell her that I got her into a boarding school in Boston. My sister Clarice lived there and she had a connection. I figured it would be a good chance for them to bond. When Rose tried to start a fight all I had to do was hang up on her.
All of this is to say I was quite shocked when I got an invitation to Rose's 11th Birthday party. It was a stylish green and gold invitation that told me I was “Cordially Invited” to celebrate Rosalie Emmiline Fierro's Eleventh birthday at the Wimborne Room in the Ritz London. The dress code was semi-formal.
Gifts were encouraged not required.
+2+
I took some much needed time off work to fly to London for Rose's birthday party. The Ritz was an intimidating old hotel that still held every but of its 1920’s glamour. The grand hotel stood it’s ground right in the middle of West London by St. James. The area just drenched of old money. I’d decided to rent a sporty classic Porsche just so to fit in.
After I checked in I spent half the day at Barney’s trying to find a dress so posh Victoria Beckham would look twice. I choose a purple mid length dress overlayed in lace and paired it with a set of nude heels so high, I could barely walk in them. Once I’d curled my hair and finished with my face I was running 10 minutes late. Fashionably late, but still. I grabbed my shoes and ran barefoot to the Wimborne dining room and put my shoes on before I opened the door. I had hoped no one would notice me sneak in. . . except when I opened the door the room was empty
Well it wasn’t completely empty. There was one person with a bright smile. I don’t think I need to name names.
The Wimborne room was plushy decorated in pale blue and gold. From the thick carpet to the velvet curtains. It was somehow frozen in time. It seated 15 at an elegant antique claw foot dining table, it was apparently the smallest room with the smallest table they could find. No amount of money could make the staff swap it out for an intimate bistro table for four. English tradition and what not. .
“Where is everyone else , Emile.” I asked as we embraced
“There is no one else”, he said, “She didn’t invite anyone else.”
“She’s gone to two different schools and lived in countless countries. You couldn’t find anyone”
“I tried some of your old neighbors . . . but they were to scared.”
“Of course”, I said.
“You know Clara”, Emile started, “Maybe you shouldn’t think of it as a dinner with adults. . . maybe she just wanted to be with her family.”
“I—“, I had nothing to say to that, so I stood still as Emile poured me a glass of complementary red wine.
The birthday girl arrived 30 minutes late. She wore a simple green tulle dress and gold shoes with a slight wedge heel. Her hair was long and it was in what looked like pageant curls topped off with a silk green ribbon. She was wearing a sheer red lipstick that I wasn’t crazy about. I hadn’t seen her all summer and she looked so much older. I took some pictures of her since no one else was.
I also hadn’t seen Mr. Fierro in the nine months since he came to Vienna. Sure, we’d had a few brief phone conversation about Rosem but we never talked about our fight in Vienna. He betrayed nothing but hospitality when he greeted me, there was a bit of awkwardness when he went to take my hands in greeting while I thought he was going to hug me. He looked less tired than he had all those months ago. His hair was loose and thick. His and Emile’s green and gold ties were a perfect match for Rose’s dress. My purple dress obviously clashed.
He pulled the chair across from me out for Rose, then a he sat across from Emile. I’d thought for a minute that maybe between Rose’s imaginary friends and Mr. Fierro’s ghost wife maybe all the seats really were full. I burst out laughing at my own thought.
No one asked what was funny.
“So, where is Rober—“, I stopped talking when I felt someone kick me under the table. I couldn’t believe he did that.
“It’s fine”, Emile said, “He was busy.”
“What about Mr. Clemmens—“,
“Ouch”, I cut Mr. Fierro off when I felt someone kick me again. I rolled my eyes at Emile, “That was my foot, Emile”
“Eh, sorry”, Emile said, “Now that all that awkwardness is out the way, we can enjoy dinner.”
After a while Emile and Mr. Fierro started talking about business. I smiled at Rose and told her she looked pretty. She gave me her best attempt at a smile and said “Thank you, Mother”
I kept adjusting and readjusting my silverware. The salad fork was useless because there wouldn’t be a salad course as Rose didn’t like salad. The chef was under the wrong impression concerning our party and bought out fifteen servings of every course since we were already paying for it. The uneaten plates kept awkwardly piling up.
After a while a comfortable silence fell. The food was tiny, thin and mostly raw. I left plenty of room for dessert only to find that because Rose didn’t care for sweets, dessert was chilled melons and cream. The staff did put a candle in her fruit. She closed her eyes tight and made a wish when the time came. Then there was more silence. Emile nervously moved his fingers, not being one to bear silence well.
“Presents?”, Emile said, “Maybe we should do presents.”
Rose nodded and Emile bought out his beautifully decorated box. She opened Emile’s present first, a pair of bright magenta Converse sneakers that she’d have to grow into. Her next gift was a simply emerald pendant necklace cut into an oval and set in gold. She smiled and took it out of the blue box and put it on immediately.
She opened my present last and cautiously. Her actual gift wasn’t in there, instead it was a postcard of the artwork I’d had commissioned by this amazing Viennese female street artist. The work was a mixed medium of photos of the places we’d been and illustrations.
“It’s for your room”, I said, “It’s going to look so lovely and there are prints so you can take version of it to school with you.”
“Thank you, Mother”, she said folding the post card.
The pretense of a party was given up quite quickly when Mr Fierro and Emile returned to business, I showed Rose some pictures on my phone of what I’d been up to, but she just stared at the candle in her fruit and then put it in her little purse.
Dinner ended promptly at 10pm. We didn’t bother with good-byes because we all wouldn’t be leaving until tomorrow night. Fierro excused himself very quickly; then Emile, Rose and I took a walk around the hotel because I wanted to show this dress off. Emile seemed quite content going around the block with two pretty girls on each arm. Afterward I took Rose back to my hotel suite and tried to work the pins and gel out of her hair. I stayed up until 11:43 pm because that was when Rose had actually been born and changed the entire trajectory of my life.
“I love you, Rose”, I said and she stirred in her sleep, “And I’m trying. I really am.”
+++
My phone didn’t stop buzzing all afternoon There was some crisis going on at ANP, and there was even a text asking if I was interested in a promotion. I’d turned off my phone while Rose and I went shopping that morning which was a huge mistake. I’d had to answer a bunch of work e-mails and ordered room service for dinner. As Rose was packing up I couldn’t remember if she was going with me to Vienna, to Holland .. . or staying in London with Emile.
“Rose, go tell Emile I’m checking out. I think you're coming with me.”
“Yes, Mother”, she said wrapping her white headphones around her shoulders.
I found a way to fold Roses new shoes into her bursting suitcase when I noticed something shiny hidden between her socks. I dug through her folded socks and saw something sparkle, I reached down and pulled out a huge emerald-cut diamond in a diamond encrusted setting. The facets were so sharp it had to be at least 15 carats.
“Fuck”, then I covered my mouth,
Rose really was a little kleptomaniac. She’d been doing it since she’d been in the hospital. She did it whenever she was anxious, when she was afraid something might go away. I just needed to find out where she got it from and then I could return it and make amends as usual.
I bought the ring up to the light and read the engraved looping script.
I squinted more.
Mrs. Clara DeLune Fierro
I dropped the ring and cursed silently to myself.
There was only one person Rose could have stolen this from.
I picked the ring up and marched to Mr. Fierros room down the hall. It felt like hours before he finally opened the door.
“What is this “, I said holding up the ring.
He frowned and opened the door letting me to into the room. I saw his leather overnight bag was sitting on the bed. That piece of luggage had gone all around the world with him and managed to spend more time with him than any person ever did.
“Where did you find this I thought I’d lost it.” He asked looking at the ring.
“Rose’s suitcase. She stole it. What is this ”
“It’s not what you think, Ms. DeLune.”
“It’s not appropriate You were going to propose to me on her birthday ? After you said those things to me ? Rose would just take it out on me for you ruining her birthday with this.”
“No.”
I folded my arms
“No ? You weren’t going to propose to me ?”, I said suddenly less confident.
“Yes”, he started then, “No. . .No.”
“Which is it ?”
“I was not going to propose to you on Rose’s birthday. I’m not going to propose to you at all.”
“Then why do you have an engagement ring with my name on in it ?”
He closed his eyes
“I was going to propose but I changed my mind.”
“When ? Today ?”
“No”
“When ?”
“I was…I should say—“
Then it hit me.
“. . .wait. Austria. You were going to propose in Vienna. After the concert. That's why you were there.. .”
He leaned against the door and closed his eyes in defeat.
“ Yes . . .the night of your performance I was waiting for you by the stage. However by the time I made it down you were gone. I waited outside the theater . . . but you didn’t show. Then I waited outside your apartment building, then outside your apartment door, then in your living room –“
“Then you fell asleep”, I finished, “You lied about not finding a hotel that night. You were just waiting to propose to me?”
“Yes. However jet lag got the better of me. By the time you walked in I realized what a foolish endeavor it was.”
I thought about it. If I hadn’t snuck out the back with Niklas. If I’d gone out the stage door and seen him there with that gorgeous ring. . . and those gorgeous roses. . . on one knee, maybe ? It would have been my every fantasy come true. It would have been everything.
“That would have been. . . interesting.”, I said.
“When I realized you hadn’t read my letter and I heard how happy you were . . .it changed things. I didn’t want to get in the way. I was. . . to late."
“What did this letter say that’s so important ? You have an eidetic memory so I know you remember.”
“It said a lot of things. The first page was the only one of note.”
“Tell me.”
“I explained why I was leaving Ireland. That I was grasping at something that didn’t existed isolated there with Lucie. I wrote that I wanted to learn more about cultivation . . . get my hands dirty---if you will. Have a bit of an adventure . . I suppose.
I also said that I’d come to realize that despite everything I still struggle with who I am or where I belong in this world. But I figure it is a big world and I want to see it. Perhaps by the end I’ll know who I am.
I now have a great sympathy for the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, though I consider my situation much less sinister. Addison Fierro was the young naïve and sheltered man who had dreams that would never come true. He was a hard worker, caretaker and blindly in love. He was poor, humble, pious and somehow never bitter underneath. And then there was Mr. Fierro, you know him all to well. A man who cultivated everything of a respectable gentlemen (in any time and place) yet years of disappoint, loss and hopelessness made him melancholy personified. A broken heart had destroyed him. I felt as if I was at war these men in my soul. I feel as if the first battle started the day I met you. You reminded me of who I was and who I used to be.
I used to believe that love was a destination. That if it were ‘meant to be’ there would be a path and if one followed it the destination would be a eternal happiness. I wrote that what I learned was there is no magical destination. No paradise. Your soulmate, if there are such things, should not be your destination but the person you are walking with. Be it through strange or unknown territory. Or just a foreign country on a Sunday afternoon.
I know we are on different continents, trying to make something of this very strange life while raising a very strange daughter. I know, and please excuse my proliferation of this metaphor, that even when I’m driving to Cork for the weekend or catching a bus in Quito that I’m all too aware that you are not there walking with me. I find I don’t think of you often Ms. Clara DeLune, I think of you always. I don’t know how to ask you to understand this wayfaring nature of mine, but I’ve spent to much time trapped in a cage of my own making to stay still any longer. You have infected me with your wanderlust and I am not looking for a cure.
It is perhaps cowardly to write this in a letter, but it wasn’t until I woke up to you in my small kitchen with a chipped coffee mug in hand and a content smile, that I realized exactly how much I wanted to wake up to you everyday of my life. You are the beginning and the end of everything I have and everything I want.
Who do I think I am ? --- a quiet man born and raised on a small farm to dare pursue a smart, beautiful, wealthy and talented woman ? To ask for her love, her patience and her kiss.
I am Addison Fierro
And I love you and I always will.
Then I left my number and forwarding address.”
He’d closed his eyes while he was reciting his letter. He opened them once he’d finished, and I just stared.
“. . . you love me ?” I said quietly. He’d said it before I just never believed it until then.
“And I always will”, he repeated, “Despite whatever might happen next.”
“You called me careless.”, I said of all things, because that was had hurt, "In Vienna you called me careless."
“yes . . . although I am beginning fear I am no better. I had no right to say such a thing.”
“It can just all be so much, sometimes. I miss my family so much it hurts. So, I just do whatever makes me happy and I forget I have other responsibilities.”
“That sound impeccably like Lucie, to be quite honest.”
“Way to beat a woman while she’s down”, I said running my finger of the smooth facets of the ring and the split diamond encrusted shanks, “But Unlike Lucie. . . I can do better. I want to. I keep asking you to change without giving a little myself. Everyone was right. I am just like my grandmother and that just won’t do.”
I hold the ring out and he takes it from me.
“I’m sorry you found this, I never wanted you to know. It's still just not the right time for us.”
“Not yet anyway”, I say as an aside.
“Good-bye, Clara”
I don’t say good-bye back, I just offer a quiet nod and head for the hall. I expected tears to fall but I just feel determined. For what ? I’m not quite sure.
+4+
Rose and I said our good-byes to Emile in the lobby. Rose would be going to Boston in the Fall to start boarding school and Emile’s parents in New Haven offered to look in on her from time to time. I guess they’d heard a lot about her.
I don’t know what possessed me, but on the way to the airport I made a stop.
I knew the drive to Maidstone like it was the back of my hand and that little sports car got me there in half the time. It was dark by the time Rose and I reached the plot of scorched land that used to be Ashford Cottage. I still felt the chill of an . . . unnatural presence in the air. But no matter.
When I pulled up the long road I could see the treehouse was still in the backyard. It was country dark and the stars provided just enough light to illuminate the treehouse. Rose had protested the whole way there, but I just needed some wide open space before returning to the city. I drove right up infront of the tree.
Rose refused to get out of the car, but I sat on the hood and grabbed a bottle of decent English wine I’d purchased from the hotel. I opened it up with my keychain wine opener and took a long sip. Then I sat back and watched the stars.
“It’s so pretty out here, Rose. Just come take a look.”
She reluctantly got out of the car and peered up at the sky, it was a wonder she could hear me with those headphones in. I sat up and looked up at the treehouse and I had a sudden probably wine-induced idea. Holding the bottle tight in one hand and using my free hand I started to climb up the metal rungs and into the treehouse.
“Come on, Rose”, I called down while climbing into the treehouse, “We never did make it up here.”
I surveyed the surroundings from inside the treehouse. It was a great view and I could see the burnt outer shell of where the old house had once stood. It was strange seeing this from the vantage of the treehouse. . . especially considering the treehouse had collapsed 2 years ago, I was so giddy on wine at this point that this hadn’t occurred to me until later.
“Come on my beautiful Rose”, I called to her like she was a precocious kitten, “I’ll let you have a bit of wine. We’re Italian so it’s fine.”
She just stood there frowning at me like she was the parent and she started messing with my phone. I took another sip of wine and shrugged. I wasn’t coming down until she came up. It also occurred to me that I’d have to call a cab to come get us.
Rose was steadfast though and twenty minutes later I saw a pair of headlights, I really hoped it wasn’t the county sheriff or constable or whatever. Then I saw the lights belonged to a burgundy Buick, Fierro got out of his car, and was in a present enough state to be perplexed by the treehouse.
“Ms. DeLune you are trespassing on my property . . . again." He called up with zero humor.
“Are you going to have me arrested ?”
“Come down. You’re being quite childish.”
I set the bottle down and considered the ladder.
“You have to come and get me, Fierro.”
“Ms. DeLune.”
“I’m serious”, I said suddenly sober, “I feel just a bit dizzy.”
He shrugs off his jacket and hands it to Rose, then he starts to climb the ladder. When he reaches the final rung I grab his arm and pull him to sit next to me.
“What is with this foolishness, Ms. DeLune ?”
“I always liked this place”, I said looking at the burnt remains of Ashford Cottage, “I always imagined one day you’d ask me to move in. That you would commit to me and bare your soul, but I suppose you just save all that for letters.”
“Words on paper have a way of being more poignant.”
“I’ll give you that one”, I said, “. . .You know you broke my heart in a million pieces when you practically told me off on that rooftoop Spain.”
“That was so long ago”
“Not to me.”
I took another sip of wine and looked back out at the countryside, then back at Rose who was staring up at us. I thought he would tell me it was time to go but instead he took the bottle of wine from me and takes a generous sip.
“Do you like it”, I asked taking the bottle back.
“I'm not the connoisseur of wine as you are.”
“I mean. . . this life. Do you like this life?”
“What life is that ?, Ms. DeLune.”
“Moving around, sending Rose to boarding school, awkwardly by passing one another when our fates are so entwined.”
“I’ve had better lives. . . I’ve had worst”
“What was your best life, Mr. Fierro ?”
He doesn’t answer but I knew what to expect. I could see it clear as day; him and his wife out in the stars holding hands while he recites the most beautiful poetry from memory. They live happily without the shadow of death following them.
“I think you know the answer to that.” He said
“I know you well, Mr. Fierro”
“I should have never bought that ring it was presumptuous. I bought it the day after you left Ireland. I never even told Rose.”
“I never wanted a ring. I just want you to stay. I wanted to give us a real chance. I know we won’t have the lifelong passionate bond you and Lucie had or the freedom and happiness I had with Peter. But we get along well, we understand each other. I can try to be your better half and you can be mine. I think we’d make good partners in life. I don’t know if we have everything to be loving couple , but it will come later.”
“Clara it’s--
“We can start over. You and me and Rose. We can try to be a real family. We can go anywhere and put down real roots. We have money so we can literally go anywhere we want like. . . well like-”
“Where ?”
“What ?”,
“You clearly have a place in mind, where ?”
Paris
The word came at me like a suggestion that wasn’t entirely my own
“There” I pointed with my bottle, “There, on the other side of the channel. I've always wanted to live there."
“France ?”
“Yes, Paris”, the words felt so good but I don’t know why, “I want it all. I want a château in Paris The most sought after wine cellar in all of Europe, a grande white piano, everything Joss Whedon’s ever made and . . . .
“What else ?” he asks.
I realize he's watching me and I turn to face him, looking him right in the eyes.
“A garden. A big beautiful garden where you can teach me to grow roses and a home studio where I can play my piano all night long without neighbors complaining and where Rose can have her own space to draw her pretty pictures.” I drink some more wine.
“Clara-“
“And you. Fierro I want you. I’ll be your friend, Mr. Fierro. I will become your dearest and most essential friend. We can become the best of friends just like you and Lucie were. We can be happy. We can be lovers. We can be a family. Do you think that’s possible or am I just drunk ?”
“I think you have a higher constitution than that.”
“Fierro, your biggest regret is that you broke all the promises you made to Lucie. Here is your chance to look a woman you love in the eye and give her everything she is asking for. I can pay for all the pretty things I want, but what I’m asking for is a real chance for us. Since I’m sober that makes what I need you to do next that much harder.”
“And what is that ?”
"Stop being so goddamn stubborn and ask me to marry you.”
And, he did
+++
I nodded off in the backseat of his car with the weight of his ring on my finger. Rose slid in next to me clutching her travel pillow close to her. I get in the middle seat and pull her close beside me. Her eyes were wet and red. I realized I must have terrified her.
“I’m sorry, Rose”, I said, “I was being a bit irresponsible. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I know”, she said fiddling with the ring on my finger.
“and—oh, my God Emile is going to kill us for doing this without him. We have to go to his house.”
Rose wiped her eyes and tried to compose her face as the car pulled onto the I89
“I wasn’t scared.” Rose said in passing.
“What's wrong then"
“It’s nothing”, she said simply and let it drop.
A/N
Rose was crying because her birthday wish came true !
>>Epilogue Part One