There are many things that a mother wishes for their child to receive in life: health, happiness, love. Those should be simple enough for anyone to find, but women like them were cut from a different cloth; they often had to choose just one, and could not have all three at one time. Love, health, or happiness? Which would you choose?
Lusine was not a mother, but she did the best she could with those screaming babes in the back of the brothel that yearned for arms to hold them, and a warm breast to rest their little heads against. Leaving that brothel—the first home she’d ever known—to make something of her own life was a decision that weighed heavily on her mind, still. She was not proud of leaving, but she did not regret it either. The only thing that kept her torn about leaving were those children, Annette being the most prominent.
Lusine spent too many nights lying awake, imagining how Adele’s little one ended up until the rocking of her train car lulled her to exhaustion. Some night the fantasies were better than others. She liked the nights when she imagined she’d married a Lord and moved to some far off place and had plenty of children of her own.
That would not end up being the case, obviously, but just seeing her alive and well (for the most part) was just as good.
It took Lusine a moment to understand what Annette was implying, but the moment she did it was as if her entire being lit up, and she dropped to sit beside her bunny and took her hands in her own.
“You must tell me all about him—or her. Whoever it is! Are you in love?”
The way Annette’s face brightens mirrors the way Lusine’s glows when she reveals that she has a true lover of her own. All of a sudden, the Belleville brothel, it’s hideous proprietor, and the long line of patrons they have both endured are the farthest thing from her mind. She cannot help but laugh as the older woman slips herself with grace from the chaise and joins her on the floor. For the first time in a long while, Netty understands what it means to feel as giddy as a schoolgirl.
“Him. His name is Bhari. Bhari Sinclair,” her cheeks become pink just saying his name, the curve of them lifting in the most helpless, happy smile. She gives Lusine’s hands a squeeze.
“He’s English. And he’s a writer! He’s written a book. I...I haven’t read it, but I’ve heard it’s very, very good.” Though Annette doubts she will ever be brave enough to read the tome for herself -- it’s hard enough for her own imagination to paint scenes of what the war was like for him, she believes she’ll be beside herself if the gory details become confirmed.
“He’s the most...gentle and melancholy thing I have ever seen in my life. He’s so beautiful, Tata, I almost cannot believe he is real. I’m absolutely, desperately in love with him -- and I’ve never been so frightened.”
theartofmadeline
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