Productivity was a word I adopted in my daily routine.
Everything was meticulous. Organized. Detailed.
I left no place for anything colorful or anything that would derail my peace. Except for my fairy—the reason why I ended up, for the first time in my life, in front of the TV, a remote control in my hand and my fingers tapping out “fairy tales” in the afternoon.
A knot formed in my throat. This was all ridiculous. I had work to do, and yet, I was about to do absolutely nothing, trying to understand the phenomenon that she was.
She had been raised with this idea of the world, a world that was unknown to me. I rented the first movie, about to suffer through a marathon of princesses and all-too-perfect Prince Charmings. I sat straight on my sofa, the orchestra announcing the happy ever after to come, a weird sensation attacking my vital organs.
“This is ridiculous.” I was ridiculous, on top of being unproductive and obsessed. I could convince my lying self I was doing this for my Ever After project, but the truth was I couldn’t care less. I was doing this for one desperate purpose.
Lost, I grabbed my phone instinctively, watching her name on the screen. I could do anything, but I was using the little free time I had dedicated to searching for why she was like a fairy in this gray world.
Loser me: I hope you have those unicorn pajamas on.
I texted her. I did it. And it was probably the worst line someone could think of. To help my case, her answer was instantaneous.
My fairy: As a matter of fact I do, but I’m in the middle of a movie, regretting my choice right now. *crying emoji*
That makes both of us. I lifted my eyes and watched the prince make his entrance with a song and a costume that screamed carnival. She was into that, while I was similar to the abandoned castle of the wicked witch in the gloomy background.
Me: How so?
My fairy: The dog is about to die, and I feel so sad. He SHOULDN’T die!!
Her emotions seemed strong. Overwhelming.
Me: It’s just a movie.
My fairy: You have the emotional sensibility of a robot. No wonder why you’re oblivious to my suffering.
She sent a bunch of emojis again, and I froze on the phone. She was about to cry for fiction. She was feeling through fiction, and here I was, blank in the real world.
My fairy: See, you don’t even know what to say. When was the last time you cried? And don’t say never!
Me: Probably as a child. I don’t remember.
My fairy: I’ll make you watch and read all the saddest books and movies I know. I’ll get a tear from you someday!
Here’s hoping.
Me: You’re wasting your time.
I refocused on the fairy tale and watched the fairy godmother appear, my lips twitching. She was weird. Aurore wasn’t like the old lady but more like a youthful eternal bloom. And you’re a corny asshole.
My fairy: You’re the one who’s texting me. Do you feel lonely?
I glanced at the void around me. If this was being lonely, I think I enjoyed it. At least, I wasn’t bothered by it. It was white and empty but familiar.
Me: Do you?
My fairy: Sometimes.
At the same time, my brother sent me a text.
Archi: Are you coming to the family dinner? And don’t play the busy card, I see you online, asshole.
I rolled my eyes and threw my phone further away. The sweet and caring prince was fighting for the princess, while the villain was failing in achieving his goal, being selfish and having almost no allies. I swallowed hard, inching forward to watch the TV.
I spent the rest of my day binge-watching the whole list, getting somehow closer to understanding Aurore’s personality.
But what all of this taught me was that in that universe, I identified with the emotionless villain dead set on his goal and hurting everyone around him.
Aurore
Spectre had left me on seen.
I had no idea why he had texted me in the first place, but this was fun, and I wasn’t ready to let him get away with it that easily. Taking another bite of my chocolate cake, I sent an impulsive text.
Me: How’s the whole art stuff going?
The Devil incarnate (skull emoji): I took a break today.
Me: You never take breaks. Are you sure you’re okay??
I laughed, slumping further on the bed, my computer giving me a nasty look over the two hundred words I had written—but at least my nails had been done in a pitch-black color. I had found a semblance of a plot for my fairy-tale draft, one including our cold, grumpy antihero living in a dark realm, the sister wanting to participate in a knight contest, and the main character, a fairy godmother made evil queen who had no magic whatsoever. A dream cast.
The Devil incarnate (skull emoji): I’m not the one crying over movies.
Me: Hey, I don’t cry. I don’t shed a tear, I just hurt myself.
The Devil incarnate (skull emoji): Why on earth for? Is it pleasurable?
Me: You’re soulless, but it’s okay. I’m ready to share a part of my soul with you.
The doorbell rang, which was unusual. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I lifted myself from my place of work and ambled toward the door with incoherent mumbles about not wanting to be disturbed doing absolutely nothing. Someone knocked on the door again, and I rethought my life choice about not adding a button where I could flush the unwanted stranger out of my apartment through an ice shower.
“Impatient.” I unlocked the door with a deadly stare, and I came face-to-face with my avid texter: Ajax. My eyes doubled in size. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing right now?” He purposely ignored my question.
“I’m in my pajamas, probably with leftovers of cake around the corners of my lips and—”
“You don’t,” he deadpanned as if that analysis was important.
“Great. At least I didn’t embarrass myself even more, but as I was saying, I have a freshly manicured hand holding a spoon, so I think this pretty much displays what I was doing.”
“So, you’re not busy.”
“This is a full-time activity, and it’s very draining and consuming,” I quipped back, readjusting my hair despite myself.
“Would you come with me to a family dinner?” He switched the subject bluntly.
“What?” I dropped the spoon on my little toe and didn’t even feel pain, still in shock. I didn’t expect my nemesis—the nemesis I’d kissed like a beast earlier—to want me to meet his parents.
“I know it’s last-minute, and we’ll have to leave in an hour.”
“One hour?” My voice was shrill, probably awakening all the neighbors. “And you’re asking me this only now? I don’t know what to wear to meet a family of surgeons and doctors who have a castle in the middle of France!”
Yes, I felt like a peasant meeting the aristocracy.
“It’s not a castle,” he corrected with his annoying tone. “You can wear one of your dresses. And I’m only asking you now because I just made up my mind about eventually going, and I drove to your place, led by this impulsive move.”
“Only now?” My eyes flared. “What made you change your mind?”
“An impulse. Probably a mistake,” he grumbled.
“A mistake? You have to be there for your mother, and your brother seems to care for you. Why would you hesitate?”
“Does that mean you’re coming?” He paused. “My fairy.”
I crossed my arms, leaning on the door. “Maybe, but only if you beg.”
“Please,” he growled. “If you need me on my knees, I’ll even bow to you.”
“That’s tempting.” I chewed on my inner cheek, holding in a laugh. “Fine, but I have questions and—”
He glanced at his pocket watch. “The car ride is pretty long, and I know how much you can talk, and you have only fifty-eight minutes to get ready. Are you sure you want to get into this right now?”
“You’re right, no time to waste.” I hurried into the room, but to do what? I was meeting Ajax’s parents. Plus, Ajax was leaving soon. I froze. “But Ajax, what if I don’t fit?”
I didn’t expect the scowl on his lips. “This is what you’re worried about?”
“Of course, I am. I like when people like me. I want them to like me.” My childhood issues about wanting to be the perfect one sparked up. “Except for you. I didn’t care if you did or not.”
“How privileged I am.” He didn’t enter but, on the contrary, parted away from the main door. “If you feel uncomfortable, we’ll get the hell out of there, but I have to warn you the Clemonte men’s genes are hard to get rid of. You’ve seen my brother.”
Was this his attempt at joking? “No one sparks my temper as much as you do, and if there is one person who isn’t afraid, it’s me. Now, I’ll go put on my war armor, then.”
I closed the door in Ajax’s face in a draft, and I believed he remained waiting for me behind it. I rushed back to my bedroom and tied my hair with a bow. I put on a dress up to my knees with some frills like a ballet tutu. The fabric of the top was in pastel lace. It was halfway between the kind of dress the princess lost in the woods would wear and the one the villain would wear at a fashion show. To that, I added heels and my small fluffy bag.
One hour and a few minutes later, I was ready and descended the countless stairs to meet with Ajax by his car. A car parked like an asshole in the middle of the Parisian street. The Greek warrior wore, for once, a white shirt underneath a marine blue suit as his eyes roamed over my dress.
“I think it’s castle-worthy, no?” I said. “And me dressing up this way means nothing! It’s just that I doubt your parents will appreciate me if I were to wear my big black leather shoes and arrive like a cloud of black fog. Now, say something.”
“I think you’ve been raised by fairies in an enchanted wood and eat flower nectar for breakfast.” Of all the things he could have said, this was the first thing that came through.
“I know that wasn’t supposed to be a compliment, but I’ll take it anyway.”
He knitted his brows. “Who says it wasn’t one?”
“Because for you, enchanted wood and fairies probably scream of immaturity and a curse at your daily silent meditation, and don’t get me started on flower nectar.”
“Or perhaps you’re the colorful painting in my dull blank canvas, Aurore.” He opened the door for me to step inside, and that’s how I embarked on a journey I didn’t expect.
I second-guessed my choice when Ajax revved his engine. “Am I crazy to have agreed to come with you?”
“You definitely are, to my greatest pleasure.”
“At least I’ll know where you come from. It’ll be a fun social experience.” Even though I was stepping into the midst of family issues, a part of me felt I was about to discover more about the origin of Spectre. “I have a tendency to attract chaotic situations.”
“The Clemontes are anything but fun, but we know chaotic,” he mused, and there was no turning back when we departed. “Thank you for coming.”
I didn’t answer as we moved away from the capital to race into the unknown. I waited only until we had crossed the highway toll to ask my first question.
“So, what’s the deal between you and your father? And before you say anything, I want to remind you that I’m in the car with you and that I deserve a reply. And yes, I’m nosy—deal with it,” I said with finesse.
“Long story short, I’m my father’s biggest disappointment,” he dropped, his eyes focused on the road as the car exceeded the speed limit.
Ajax was breaking the rules; it wasn’t in his temper.
“And the long story?” I contemplated with a proud smile, my pink teddy bear bouncing. He still hadn’t removed it from his car.
“I used to be his favorite son, but as I grew up, we never got along. He had always been demanding. For him, art was not a job for a man. Especially for a Clemonte, and he showed it to me multiple times when I was a kid by replacing my free time with anatomy studies. He had a future set up for me before I was even born, to follow in his footsteps and become miserable for the rest of my life.” He spoke as if he had no feelings whatsoever, as if this didn’t pain him.
“That must not have been easy growing up. How did you face him?”
“I didn’t, at first. I grew up wanting his approval. I stopped painting because real men don’t do such foolish things, and I stepped into line.” His grip on the wheel tightened. “With my father, everything was a competition between my brother and I. He put us against each other so we’d annihilate one another to become better men instead of working as a team. The winner had a gift; the other was a disgrace. I was the eldest, so I was stronger, but I couldn’t keep doing that to him. It would have destroyed him.”
“So you protected him,” I whispered.
“I tried but failed. I promised my father I’d do what he awaited from me, on the condition he left my brother alone and let him do what he truly loved. We had a deal. And so, my brilliant career in football started, and I was one of the best students in my first semester at university. Of course, I studied medicine, and I loathed it.” Ajax almost chuckled but in a dark and twisted way. “But Archi being Archi saw it as an offense. He thought I was stealing the spotlight from him, and our relationship changed. Father had exactly what he wanted—us to be rivals. That’s when Mom’s first signs of Alzheimer’s appeared.”
“Your father sounds more like the evil witch to me than a dad, but it’s noble the sacrifice you tried to make for your brother. I always knew you had a heart behind your armor of muscles and mask of coldness,” I joked, but when Ajax remained silent, I had to push deeper. “How did you become Spectre, then?”
“I faced my father. Told him the truth about who and what I wanted to be. He told me if I decided to embarrass him, I should just leave and never come back. So, that’s what I did. I left my family and my trust fund and never looked back.” His jaw clenched. “I was basically homeless at eighteen. I took a couple of jobs to survive, mostly as a server in Paris, and that’s when I took Bernard’s classes with the little money I had.”
“What a rude jerk!” My leg snapped on the car dash. “Did your father excuse himself afterwards?”
“I haven’t seen him since that day. He disowned me from the family.”
“What?” I snapped again, my knees hitting the car in a way I’d have bruises for days.
Ajax furrowed his brows. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I groaned, stroking my knees. “You’re telling me we’re going to see your father right now and that you haven’t spoken to him for like, what, ten years? And you brought me into this mess?”
“Correct.”
I let my head fall back. “This is a nightmare. Is this why you brought me? Because you knew your father would hate me since I represent basically everything weird? Is this some kind of revenge plot or something?”
“It’s actually thanks to you that I changed my mind about going.” To me? “I have no doubt you’ll either charm him or make him do his loser face. The face I’ve only seen once in my entire life. The one where his two eyebrows rise and where he chews on his inner lip. It means he is beaten by his adversary. But if he displays a full, sharp smile, it means he’s about to annihilate you, and I suggest you run.”
“Jeez, thank you for the tip.” I rolled my eyes, making a mental note to focus on the lip biting and another to watch out for the display of teeth. “Does he know we’re coming?”
“I believe so. He tried to reach out to me since he had learned from my brother I was on my way to beating his fortune. I suppose he found me worthy of the family name suddenly and realized he had another toy to his game in the wild.”
“You know that you’re describing your father like some kind of tyrant. Not the kind of villain we like.” We, meaning me and the heroines of my unpublished novels.
“If this is any consolation, we have a fountain.” His eyes met mine in something malicious. “In case you wanted to get wet again.”
“You know that thing about not wanting to hate you? Well, it can come back ASAP if you push my buttons. Plus, it’s always your fault that I’m wet and—” I bit my tongue. Damn it. “I’ll. Not. Go. Inside. Your. Fountain. That’s all I’ll say.”
“Trust me, Aurore.” His eyes set on the road. “Next time I make you wet, it won’t be because of a fountain or the sea.”
That comment made me choke on my breath. Ajax saying this seemed unlikely, and yet, he had. He implied what I think he did.
“You do know how to calm my nerves. This way, I’m sure to not embarrass myself or you in front of the entire Clemonte legacy. Or maybe I’ll just hide in your dungeon or something.”
“We have a cave.” A thin smile slanted his mouth. “Fairies aren’t supposed to hide but have magic powers.”
“And knights in shining suits are supposed to save the damsel in distress, not bring her to the dragon’s den.”
“But I’m no knight, just like you’re no damsel in distress, Aurore. We already established behind these layers of blooming sunshine you have spikes like the sharpest sword.”
“Afraid I’ll make your heart bleed to death, Mr. Clemonte?”
“You have no idea.”
