A Sip Of Fate

“We are all mortal until the first kiss, and the second glass of Wine.” - Eduardo Galeano

Deauville Beach, France

Summer (Present Day)

I have always had a fondness for the beach at night; the way the dark blue sky, and moonlight create dancing hues of a haunting reflection off the sea entrances me. The sound of whooshing waves against the coastline without the bustle, and chatter of locals, and tourists is like music to my ears; its own bittersweet symphony. My pink summer dress I picked up from a corner shop in Paris last year clung to my legs as a warm gust of wind blew against my back, and tangled my wavy hair. I sink my bare feet into the sand as I’ve done so many times in the past I lost count, and close my eyes; taking in a deep breath I inhale the salty, sweet air. I feel tears run down my cheeks as the thought of him next to me, with his warm hand in mine invades my blissful moment of distraction. The memories of him flood in, and I choke back the wailing I desperately want to purge into the night like a banshee. His hazel eyes staring into my baby blues like I was the only girl at the party, the way he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me deep and long on the Farris wheel that especially starry night, the way he held me close for the time that’d be the last, as if he was sinking my body into his to make a whole, the look on his face as if his soul had shattered when He told me We could no longer see each other. How ironic it is that one must go into the darkness to find some form of light; but I won’t be the first to tell you that heartbreak does a number on you if you let it. And my version of escaping reality wasn’t working well enough, clearly. I’ve tried therapy, medication, dancing until my sides and legs hurt so bad I could barely stand, sitting in meditation for twenty minutes straight at a retreat in Bali while a “guru” walks me through a process of healing through trance. I’ve tried drinking it away, crying it away, swimming it away, writing it away, even screwing it away, but it never really goes away; the pain that is. It permeates through my pores and makes it way into my blood. It’s become a part of me, because he is a part of me. And this coastline mapped of lovers, dreams, and broken hearts will forever be a part of us.

The French Riviera, Summer

(One Year Ago)

It’s just a blind date Stelle, not a blood contract, there’s nothing to get worked up over. Mina said with reassurance in her voice. I know, but blind dates are so cliche, Estella said with a sigh. Adjusting her dark brown, caramel highlight curls into an elegant updo. Mina had been an amazing friend, having met her six months ago when she came to France for work in journalism. Mina had been a perfect confidant, and ego booster for Estella in a place that challenged her daily. You look hot as hell girl, he’s going to feel like the luckiest man in the world scoring a date with you. Mina winked, and zipped up the back of Stelle’s silver sequined, fitted dress. Giving an eye roll, and thanking her friend for her support, and compliment Estella took in her reflection, and she put on her matching jewelry set she got in Paris last week. She felt a twinge of jealousy next to Mina, her sunkissed glow, and bleach blond waves made her seem irresistible to the frenchmen, and her doting boyfriend of five years, Jack. Stelle had sharp, refined features, and blue grey eyes that she was told were something to fall in love with themselves. Straightening her bare shoulders, she smiled in a “this is as good as it’s going to get” kind of way. Her makeup complimented her eyes with a dark blue shadow, and full lashes, rosy cheeks, and a rouge red lipstick. The dress she’d gotten at a corner shop in Mariselle, along with Jimmy Choo silver heels she’d never worn until now. The blind date had been a set up she saw coming, but was in no way prepared for; Stelle had no enthusiasm or interest in it, but was taking the opportunity to appease Mina, who’d been encouraging her to “get out there” ever since her divorce that led her to France. And for a reason which she couldn't really explain, she’d felt an overwhelming eagerness to meet this handsome stranger.

Making her way down the cobblestone street, through the stone archway, and narrow terrace to the restaurant, she took in the sights, sounds, and smells of the walk from the taxi cab. The salty sweet air came in on a summer's breeze along the coastline. Golden twinkle lights lined the side shops, and the jasmine trees were in full bloom. Love swept couples were laughing, and kissing walking hand in hand, or sitting close on the brass engraved benches along the sidewalk. She took in a deep breath and walked into “Le Figuier de Saint- Esprit.” A fig tree marked the entrance, and a delicious aroma engulfed her. The tuscan inspired design was rich, and cozy. The waiter met her with a big smile, and nod. “Miss Estella, Ravi de te ravior” (lovely to see you again). And same to you Frank dear. J’ ai une réservation. (I have a reservation). “Blind Date”, Stelle said while rolling her eyes. Ahh.. Oui, Oui of Course Frank replied in a sultry manner. Your Amant (Lover) is waiting for you at the table far right. Thanking him Estella made her way to the table, taking in her blind date in awe. He looked up, and smiled with an instant charm that sent butterflies about in her stomach. His dark, wavy hair fell to one side more than the other. His warm brown eyes looking her up and down, taking in her outfit choice she assumed. He had faint facial hair, his jawline was refined, and his lips large and pouty. He stood, and held out his hand to take hers and kiss it softly, He was tall, and his dark blue suit seemed perfectly tailored to complement his fit body. Estella King!? It’s lovely to meet you “de toute beaute”; (beautiful) Ian Warrilow, your blind date who might be a little too excited to meet you, he said with even more charm than was in his smile. I must admit I am also excited to meet you, though I am not fond of dates in such a manner. Stelle replied, blushing. Oui he said in agreement as he pulled out her chair, asking her to sit. I hope you don't mind but I’ve already ordered our drinks. A Merlot- Château Mouton Rothschild, Pauillac to be exact. One of France’s finest, I think you’ll agree Ian said in confidence. I don't mind at all, that sounds wonderful actually. While ordering their dinner, she took a few sips of the Merlot. Warm hints of cedar, blackberry, blueberry, and oak soaked her tongue, and she let it roll around in her mouth a minute before swallowing it down. That’s absolutely delicious she exclaimed, Oui isn't it? Authentic.. Parfait (perfect) he replied. Exchanging glances, they both held each other's gaze a moment longer than should be normal on a first date; and she felt a sense of familiarity, as if somehow they had already known each other, and well. Ian chose the wild shrimp or crevettes sauvages, and Estella went with “The catch of the day”, or La pêche du jour. Savoring their meal, they began small talk and quickly realized it wasn't for them, so as the second glass of wine was poured the conversation got deeper. I feel as though I know you from somewhere, but I can’t quite place it. Is it possible we’ve met before, years ago maybe we crossed paths on our adventures in London? Ian asked while looking at her intently. I was actually just about to mention the same thing, Stelle replied, taking a long sip of the Merlot. You feel familiar to me in some strange way. Well certainly I feel I’d remember such an exquisite woman such as yourself. I know I won't be forgetting you here on out he said, smiling with that charm that once again gave her butterflies. She felt her cheeks flush and looked down in an attempt to hide her affections. He’d easily wooed her, and it was bothersome just how quickly she felt comfortable with him. A perfect stranger yet it felt like he’d been someone special to her for years. He reached out and touched her hand she had resting on her wine glass on the table, and suddenly she felt electricity run through her, and her heart fluttered. A flash of a memory from a psychic at a fair back in the states popped into her head. The old lady quoting Fridrich Nietzsche as she read her palm in wonder. “Invisible threads are the strongest ties.” She said with a romanian accent, she stared at Stelle as if she were looking right through her soul in an attempt to sear the message into her core. Apparently it worked, because for whatever reason that memory popped up right here in this moment, while she was with a man whom she felt connected to on a level she couldn't logically explain. Ian removed his hand from hers quickly, as if he both felt the same thing, and sensed how she had disappeared of sorts mentally. I’m sorry if that was too soon, or much? He said with a wide eyed expression. No, you are okay, I think maybe I’ve just had a bit too much to drink she replied short of breath. How about we take a stroll along the beach, and get some air? Ian asked. Oui, That sounds lovely.

Leaving the restaurant and making their way to the shoreline, they talked more about their likes, and dislikes, hobbies, and what led them to France. Finding they had much more in common, and in quite an uncanny way than what she thought was possible. A warm breeze ruffled her hair, loosening it out of its updo. Letting it out of its ties, she asked Ian if he’d mind, of course she wasn't surprised when he said not at all. He slipped his hand in hers as they walked along the beach; letting the waves wash over their bare feet, their shoes hanging in opposite hands, Do you mind he asked, smiling big, not at all she replied with a wink. And she didn't mind, it felt perfect being by his side, this stranger who too fast had become someone she’d want to see again, and again; and by the way he was looking at her under the full moonlight, he felt the same.

Both of them stopping as if on cue, they turned to each other, and he slipped his arm around her waist. The other placed gently on her face. Her heart began to pick up pace again, and the wind gust tanged both their hair into the others as they leaned in closer. The sound of the waves crashing into the shore matched the soft beats of music coming from their pier. Have you bewitched me Estella King? You make me feel both weak, and like I can take on the world all in the same moment. I feel as if we have danced, our souls a few times over, yet we’ve barely begun to collide. His face was full of question, and longing, and she wanted to answer him with her lips on his. And so she did. He pulled her into him, and his hands gripped her tightly. She had never felt this way before, and it scared the hell out of her. Where had he been all these years she had spent stumbling over her broken heart, and how had he swept her away like this.. A man she met on a blind date of all the ways to meet. Where she had walked into that restaurant reserved, and ready to run back out she was letting down her guard, and ready to run towards that which she would have normally bailed on. It was in that moment where their lips moved together like a perfect chord of a song waiting to be sung aloud, and time itself seemed to stop for them that she knew this man would either be her undoing, or her greatest adventure. Either way, she was willing to take the risk.