My job is something that is not quite known among the common people. I am an ‘Amoureux for a day’. A courtesan of love. It sounds outrageous and scary, but that is not how I see it. The clients never touch me or do anything improper. All we do is spend the day together and have conversations. I sometimes wonder why these wealthy people would pay just to spend time with someone of low standing like me, but that doesn’t really matter either.
Although I am called a ‘lover’ for the time of our togetherness, I feel like I am just a new friend that they can openly talk to. I have met so many interesting people in the last five years. Some are boisterous and some are shy, but they all are kind people at heart. I work to repay our father for taking care of us, but I feel that I would enjoy meeting these men even if there was no pretense.
The books I read in my free time often speak of unexpected romances and great opportunity when having fated meetings with dashing young men. There are countless passionate tales of the unavoidable attraction between a man and a woman.
I have never felt this way even once.
Maybe I get along with anyone, but I never saw a man as anything but another person. Desire, infatuation, love? No such thing has ever occurred to me. These kind men were no princes on white horses; they were no debonair rogues that would take me out at night. Every single one of them was just a person with troubles and dreams.
It would be cruel and unfair to treat them as anything but that. I listen to them as equals and try to understand their rich history and ideals. That is fair. That is beautiful.
And yet...
Looking back at my early days in this job there was one exception. One client made me feel something different. Something deep and terrifying. She was the first woman that had ever asked for my services. Even by the standards of these encounters I had come to expect, she was eccentric. A woman of the world, yet strangely down to earth. She was so pretty and whimsical…
I could still remember her long nails digging into my hand as she dragged me across the city with so much élan. Her deep purple eyes. That irresistible smile. My heart kept pounding for the entire day, like it had never hammered before. I wanted to know everything about her. We went shopping and ate in a fancy restaurant and when the first stars appeared we had sat down on the secluded steps near the Notre Dame. Her voice was so very intoxicating when she told me sweet nothings.
I did not resist when she pushed her lips on mine. Her lipstick tasted sweet.
I could never forget that moment.
The day had ended. There was no more time for the two of us. The contract strictly forbade the clients to take me home or anywhere else than the agency building. If she had told me to come with her, would I have resisted? I don’t know. That is something I cannot fathom anymore. Perhaps I never will.
We parted ways and she vanished like a mirage, like something that had sprang straight from my yearning imagination. No man had ever made me feel this way. Only her.
When I told Papa about it, he made me swear to never mention this to anybody, especially not my clients. He had looked truly disgruntled and mad. Maybe it was because of the kiss. That was a breach of contract after all. Contracts were important in the adult world. It’s what I realized after my former chaperone was punished.
That was the last time I had a female client. I think Papa made sure of it. Maybe that was for the best. I was more comfortable around men. They are kind and calming. Never would they disturb my heart like that, like she did. The heat that had spread throughout my soul slowly cooled off and now the memory was a distant dream.
I like my job. I like speaking to these colorful people and finding ways to understand them. No day was ever boring for me.
In truth I don’t like those passionate, unrealistic love stories.
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We quietly walk through the busy streets of Paris. Paul and I, we are an odd pair if viewed from the outside. He is a middle-aged gentleman with an aura of importance, while I am an average city girl. We don’t complement each other very well, but there is no reason to act distanced because of that.
Paul has been walking ahead of me from the start. I don’t know if he has any destination in mind, but we have been strolling through the upper town for two hours already. Aimless steps and silence are all that he seemed to show to me.
At last we reached a quiet house block with a small park in its center. Paul stops his heavy steps for a moment and looks around. I can see him scratch his head anxiously. It is too pitiful really.
With decidedly big steps I walk around him and then sit down on a park bench. His eyes widen in surprise at my forward action, but he seems to be relieved as well. He quietly sits down next to me and folds his hands together thoughtfully.
So he is the shy type. I have met men like him who could hardly even speak in front of a girl. They were like young boys in a way, too inexperienced or self-conscious to talk to adults. I wonder if his wife is a strict person.
Should I start the conversation? I don’t want Paul to feel so anxious anymore. After all I am here only for his sake. There has to be something I can say to break the ice.
“…you must think I am pathetic.” He very suddenly speaks these self-depreciating words. “A married man hiring such a young girl to comfort him. I’m a wreck. A hopeless loser. Too scared to go home, too cowardly to leave for good.” He leans his face into his hands and lets his head sink.
I crease my brows and then act without a second thought. I stand up from the wooden bench and then squat down in front of Paul. He can see me from between his fingers and seems shocked. We are on eye-level now.
“I don’t think you are pathetic at all Paul.” I say honestly. He is taken by surprise again, a look of disbelief on his face. But I’m not done yet. “Everyone is lonely sometimes. I know you are strong and proud because you built a company with your own hands. People look up to you and want you to carry their burdens. It’s not easy. It’s tough, isn’t it?” I pull his shaking hands from his face and tightly take them in my own. “You need someone to lean on as well, don’t you?”
This exhausted looking proud man looked at me with such vulnerable eyes… and then he choked. Tears were streaming down his face. I softly pull him against my shoulder and let him cry.
“There there. It will all be better soon. I am here for you.” I keep stroking his short hair with my free hand and whisper into his ear.
We stay like this for a few minutes. If anybody saw us they didn’t make themselves noticeable. This was a public neighborhood, but a weakened heart does not care about time and place. Eventually Paul recovered some of his countenance and pulls away from my soaked shoulder.
I lightly spin around and sit back down next to him. The sun has crept into the park and is now illuminating the freshly cut grass. The smell of mowed lawns and heated air mixes beautifully.
“Mademoiselle Dubois.” Paul speaks up with a choked voice.
“You can call me Lis.” I say with a smile.
“Lis…” He repeats my name sheepishly. “I’m sorry for the shameful display. I did not intend to break down in front of you.”
“Non non, when it needs to get out, it needs to get out! Holding it in is painful and unhealthy.” I shake my head lightly.
“I could never do this in front of my wife.” He says derisively. “Your eyes… reminded me of her. They sparkle in the same emerald green.”
“Your wife must be pretty.”
“I thought so too when we met at the altar.” He laughs dryly. Paul is rubbing his hands over and over, maybe to cope with his unrest. “What a fool I was.”
“Do you…. not love your wife anymore?” I ask carefully. It is daring to breach the topic so early, but I feel I have a connection with Paul already. Maybe I overstepped my boundaries, but if he could be honest about it…
“I don’t know if I ever loved her.” He replies with a distanced look. “We got married because of my father’s input. She was… is a strong-headed girl. I don’t think she ever listened to me since we met. I feel… powerless around her.”
“She sounds like a strong lady.”
“I can’t stand her attitude anymore. She is so selfish and she always judges me even though she doesn’t know anything!”
“Is there nothing that makes you feel happy when you are together?”
“…” Paul knits his brows and seems to seriously contemplate my question. Eventually a hint of nostalgia grows on his weary face. “The way she takes care of the flowers in our garden.”
“Hm?” I nod for him to continue.
“That look on her face when she takes care of them… I think that is something I love.”
We stay silent for a while, as I let those thoughts sink in. He regains focus.
“There are good parts about our marriage too. My children. My dear boys.” He finally gives me a weak smile.
“You love them a lot, don’t you?”
“They are my pride and joy. Those boys are so energetic and strong. They are really passionate about football. I wish I could come to all their games.”
“You can’t?”
“My company is in a bad spot right now. I can’t afford to take time off.” He bites his lower lip and balls his hands to fists. “When I come home they are already asleep and my wife… she doesn’t care how tired I am. We always fight until late into the night.” The exhaustion returned to him right away.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I think your wife is worried.”
“Pardon?”
“It sounds like she worries about you.”
“She is just disappointed in my failures.”
“Did she say that?”
“Countless times!”
“I see. What else does she say?”
“’Why are you home late again?’, ‘The boys don’t even know their father’s face anymore!’, ‘You failed the company and you fail your family, what a useless man’.” He repeats the venomous lines with as much twisted anger as he can muster.
“Mhm. She is so worried.” I nod understandingly. “She wants you back with your family, not hurting yourself at work.”
“That can’t be it. She is glad that I am not there to disappoint her more!”
“Do you really think that?” I tilt my head.
“How can you be… so sure?” He asks doubtfully.
“Because if it was me… I would want you to stay at my side instead of suffering somewhere where I can’t see.” I tell him with a comforting smile.
His eyes widen and he stares at me in disbelief. Some color returns to his cheeks, which makes me feel relieved. This spark of life he had been missing finally returned home.
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The day passed in a flash, it always does. Already I can see the sun move over the rooftops and down into the east. Soon the twilight of dusk would envelope Paris in a satin blanket of night.
We are on our way back to the agency now. Our fated time is coming to an end. Over this day I think we grew closer. Paul now shows me his emotions so openly. Right now he feels…
“Lis, can we meet again?” He asks me quietly as we walk along the riverside.
“Ah.” I’ve grown to dread that question. It isn’t the first time this difficult query has been given to me. Jean, Pierre, Gustave, Peles, they all said the same thing. And to all of them I had only one reply. “Maybe we will meet again one day, if fate allows.” I avert my face sadly.
“That’s not what I meant!” He calls out to me and stops in the middle of the walkway. I flinch a little. “I still have money. I can rent you again, can’t I? There is no reason why we can’t do this again, right?”
Of course he is asking so desperately, because he knows the answer already. It’s impossible, so I slowly shake my head.
My name, Lis, means lily. Papa had a weird sense of humor, naming his daughters after flowers. I quite like my name, but perhaps it’s also the reason for my nickname. I once heard Robert talk about it; the people call me ‘Daylily’. A flower that only blooms for a single day.
Just like those ephemeral flowers I as well can only show myself to someone for a single day. Those were the rules. I wanted to meet some of these men again too, talk to them again and find out how they are doing. But Papa forbade it. He says that we can’t break the rules or it would end in tragedy. He is so wise, I have to trust him.
So even if it breaks my heart, we are fated to never meet again. Could I really say something so horrible to someone who needs my support? I wish I knew how to act even once. They all seemed to understand in the end, though.
“I am sorry Paul. Let’s both return home, shall we?” I folded my hand behind my back and hopped across a faulty stone protruding from the rocky passageway.
He doesn’t reply, but I can hear his long steps behind me. Yes, he will find a way to move on. I’ve seen that strength inside him.
Robert welcomes us back in his usual polite, but casual manner and then goes to the backroom to discuss the details with Paul. This is the moment of our parting, so I make sure to face him with my happiest smile.
“Thank you.” He rubs his head and looks at me awkwardly. “I haven’t felt this… way… In a long time.”
“I will be cheering for Léo and Rémi’s victory in the next match!”
“You remembered their names.” His eyes were shining like never before.
“Of course. You spoke so dearly of them, it really touched my heart.” I honestly wish I could have met his sons at least once. They sounded like wonderful children.
He clutches his jacket and then turns around to follow Robert.
He said no words of goodbye, which doesn’t surprise me, but it still makes me a bit sad. I can’t let that drag me down though! I promised Rafi that we would have fun after I am done with work and I always keep my promises.
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Dusk was a short thing in the big city. Exactly in the moment the sun would sink behind the Arc de Triumph, every single street light would come alive at once and return the streets to brightest day. I sometimes wish I could enjoy the fading red sky a bit longer.
So close to the Seine there are fewer lamps and artificial lights and the reflection of the stars in the water has a soothing quality. That’s why I always lean against the rail for a while to just let the atmosphere sink in. I'm not in any particular hurry to get home; after all it was only 15 minutes across the bridge.
These were the only times that I could really roam free. Right before and after work. During off days I would stay at home all the time and during work I was always going with the flow. This dimly lit hour was the only time I could stretch my legs and go where I wanted. Papa always returned around 22:00, so I had about an hour to me every time I had a client.
I wonder if Rafi had fun at school today? She never talks much about it. I’d like to hear more about it honestly, because I never went to school at all. Papa always called over a teacher to home school us. When I turned 16 I was told that I finished my education and since then I haven’t really studied anything. Rafflesia began going to public school right after I started my job though, so she is not done yet.
My sister sure is impressive!
I hum a mindless melody as I advance across the riverside. Whenever I think about Rafi I just want to see her. As much as I enjoy the alone time, it can’t trump having dinner with my little sister.
A creaking from below reminds me that sometimes there are boats tied to the poles on the river’s bench. I even saw some sailing ships before-
Crunch
I freeze. Someone’s boot had just crunched inside the gravel. The noise was extremely close. I hadn’t noticed anyone approaching me until now, so it really surprised me. My heart had almost stopped for a second there. A busy city like this always has people go for a walk even at late hours. I hastily move to the side to let them pass me by.
They aren’t moving. That’s weird. Really weird. I feel uncomfortable now. What is this weird feeling? I want to move, but can’t?
A hand touches my shoulder and I shriek.
“Calm down! It’s me!”
“P-Paul?” I gasp for air after the shock spreads through my body. His heavy hand makes my limp legs almost collapse.
“I didn’t want to scare you Lis.” He says in a muffled voice.
“W-what are you doing here?”
“I… needed to see you, to talk to you more – it wasn’t enough!” He gets louder and looks down on me with shaking eyes.
“We can’t…!”
“I don’t care about the rules. If it’s about the money, I have plenty! I will pay off my debts soon, so just let me hire you again!”
“Paul…”
“Yes. You called me by my name right away. I wonder why you did that.” He indulges his own fantastical world and keeps talking like he is deluded. “You are just like Madeleine. Back when she looked at me like I was worth a damn. Your beautiful face, those tender words. If she just kept looking at me that way I would never have lost my company’s stocks. My courage has left me so long ago; I can’t even look my boys in the eyes anymore. If you were there… if you stayed at my side! We could change everything; return it to how it is supposed to be.”
I back away against the rail with shaking legs. Paul is talking so much, but he isn’t even addressing me. His eyes are not looking at me. All he sees is someone else. Something he yearns for so deeply. Why is it so frightening… to be looked at by those eyes?
“Paul, I called you by your first name, because I felt that you wanted to be seen as yourself.” I admit while trying to slide along the rail. “I think you felt dragged down by your family name.”
“Exactement! The name of my father, the shoes are too big, too heavy, don’t fit me at all. I thought I could take on Madeleine’s name, make it my own, to escape his reach. She didn’t want to do it. She said I should be proud in that name. What does she know… now she mocks me, just like everyone else did?” He grits his teeth painfully.
Something is wrong with Paul. I hadn’t seen this deeply twisted... thing… at the bottom of his heart. He wasn’t just lonely. It wasn’t just his self-loathing.
That is the look of a broken man.
“I will take you home!” He suddenly reaches for my arm and drags me back towards him. It hurts! His hand is surprisingly strong and rough. “Harpy Madeleine will go away… and the real Madeleine will return. Everyone will be so happy ahahaha.” He is laughing into his own hand now.
“Paul, no, I can’t replace your Madeleine! I am Lis! You don’t have to do this-“
“NO! You don’t understand at all! But I will show you. Just be quiet for a while my dear, dear Madeleine!” He covers my mouth with his free hand and then forcefully drags me across the path.
No, no, no, please no. I don’t want to go with him. I don’t want to leave my home. Even if I struggle I can’t break free. He is taller than me, he is stronger than me. After all he is an older man. His chuckling is terrifying to my ears. I can’t break free. My wrist hurts. I bite into his hand until I taste something like iron…
“Hahaha, you are so soft and weak, just like I thought.” He doesn’t take my resistance seriously. The bite marks in his hand don’t bother him.
There is no escape… I can see the side-alley where his car is parked. Why is nobody there? I can’t call for help, but someone must be seeing us… someone!
“We look like a drunken couple, supporting each other so romantically. How wonderful, this is the essence of Paris after all!!” He laughs and puts a little hiccup into his step.
“Nghhhhh!” The car is so close. No way, the trunk is already open. He had planned to drag me with him all along?
My eyes tear up. I don’t want this, why is this happening to me? Please…
“LET GO OF HER YOU BASTARD!”
Everything shakes and I suddenly find myself on the ground. Something loud and heavy resounded in the air, as if a heavy branch was falling on a cement block. I scurry over the gravel and unto the grass. Everything is dark, so I try to move to the light. The lamppost close-by shines like a beacon.
“Ungh! Argh… who are-?! Crazy bitch- GRAH!” I can hear Paul scream. It sounds really painful.
“Haah! Hrrngh! I will beat you to death pig!” Angry howling takes form in a familiar voice.
I roll on my side and look back. The one who is hurting Paul with a big heavy looking iron stick… is Rafflesia. She looks wild. I can’t see her face, but she keeps yelling as she beats the much taller man.
Paul is holding up his arms defensively, but he can’t move as she stands on top of him. He makes pained sounds and I think I see tears roll down his face.
“Shtop! Pwease!” He is crying. His lips are swollen and red. The stick comes down again nonetheless. It hits his arm and is rewarded with a horrible cracking sound. “AAARGH!”
A spine chilling scream makes me curl up in fear.
“You just didn’t know when to stop. You bastards never know when enough is enough… Haaah…. Huff…” Rafflesia is out of breath. She throws the metal slab aside, which creates a loud clanging noise.
“Sorry… sorry… I’m sorry… I just wanted my old life-“
“I don’t care. You touched my Lis for the last time.” Something blinked in the night. The light of the lamppost is reflected across the small piece of metal. Different from the stick, this was crafted thinly and sharply.
I move forward without thinking. Rafflesia raises the knife above her head with hate filled eyes. Paul winces in fear.
The knife goes down.
“RAFI STOP!” I tackle my sister with my entire body and push her down. The knife hits the grass next to Paul’s cheek and only cuts it superficially. As I spin I see the red drop form and drip down his scared face.
The next moment everything is upside down and I am harshly hitting the ground with Rafi on top of me. I have to squint a bit to keep my eyes open. My side burns and my arm aches. When I look up I see Rafi with a shocked expression. I have never seen her this concerned in my life.
“Ah… Lis.”
“Rafi, why? You scared me… why would you do this to Paul?” I can’t help it; I let out my fear and pent up emotions. I want to go home, I want to go to bed, I want to get away from here.
Realization flashes across my sister’s face and she lowers her hands. Her mouth opens, but she says nothing. Her mouth closes and she makes sounds. Her eyes shift around. I realize that she is even more devastated than me.
“Lis… Lis, are you okay? He didn’t hurt you right? Lis? Come on, please, Lis.” She is shaking so much as she touches my face to look for injuries.
“I-I-I’m ffffine!” I am too shaken to talk normally right now.
“Your arm… there is a mark.” She says with anger returning to her voice.
“It d-doesn’t hurt… Rafi, your hand is bleeding!” I notice the red on her fingers and grab it anxiously.
“No, no that’s not- It’s just that guy’s.” She hastily corrects me and shows me that there is no wound below the red liquid.
“J-just? Rafi, you almost…” My throat tightens up. I can’t finish my sentence. But I don’t even know what I was going to say.
“He hurt you, so I just lost my cool.” She replies with forced calm and then gets off me. “Robert will take care of the rest, so let’s get out of here.”
I can barely sit straight, but she already wants us to run away! I am still much too confused about- about everything!
“Lis. Listen to me… only listen to me. Everything will be alright. We are going home.” She gently speaks into my ear. Her hand is soft, unlike Paul’s.
I am so scared, but hearing her speak to me like everything is alright… makes me feel good. Somehow I manage to stand. She pulls me up and offers me her shoulder to lean on.
Rafflesia’s face is covered with a single drop of red that slowly runs down her cheek. Her expression is mysterious. I don’t want to admit it, even as she calmly talks to make me forget…
Today, for the first time in my life, I was scared of my sister.