Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "heartache"

Babet has arrived, WELCOME TO WILMINGTON!!!

In Wilmington I stop at an upscale gas station and grab my bag from the back. To meet the Gunnar family I have packed one of my sundresses and a newer pair of flip flops. I pair the white sundress with a black sweater since the spaghetti straps are less than conservative. In the mirror I finger my tresses and add a little bit of eye-liner and mascara. My Mamma says without makeup I look like, “Death warmed over.” She’s right and it’s worse since I’ve been in the car for the entire day. I take a deep breath; gather my jeans and t-shirt and head back to my car.

My assumptions of the Gunnar’s beach house are exactly correct and I’m in absolute awe of the three story palace. The Wrightsville beachfront mansion is pale yellow with blue shutters on every one of the large rectangular etched windows. My eyes follow from the door, up to the second story balcony and up further; this house is like a never ending structure to the starry night sky.

I park my car behind a fleet of expensive vehicles. A silver Audi TT sits in front of a Jeep Rubicon but my attentions are diverted to a beautiful Mercedes C-class, sleek black and chrome glow pristine under flood lights. I don’t get to linger at the statuesque automobile when I hear the front door open.

“You’re here!” A diluted Nordic accent chimes over the sound of wind and crashing waves, I see my Daddy’s friend Lars Gunnar, actor of stage and screen. “I’m Lars; Babet?” He says his smile warm and inviting.

“Babet. Yes sir, Mr. Gunnar.” I say, my southern charm oozing through.

“Please, Lars. Call me Lars.” He bows slightly and clasps his hand to his chest. He rises and he is quite tall, lanky almost with light blue eyes and graying blonde hair. His skin is pale and supple; he doesn’t look like a sixty year old man.

“Lars, yes sir.” My tone is professional.

“You can gather your things momentarily; I would like you to meet Soren before he goes to sleep. Okay?”

“Of course.”

Lars holds his hand out for me to go ahead of him to the house, but passes me to open the door. I thank him with a smile; I’m very used to a man holding my door. I pass into the foyer and look high above me and all around me.

The space above is open to multiple sky lights with a grand staircase to the left and the open modern kitchen and dining room to the right. Straight ahead is a great room with leather furniture and beach decor looking out a window framed glass wall with doors leading to a massive second story deck. Beyond is sand and sea, which I can see from the foyer. To the left of the great room is a dark hallway, which I imagine leads to the master bedroom.

“The studio wanted to put me and Soren in a gated community off the beach, but I refused. I told them it was beach front or I walk.” He says smiling but I can see he is a little nervous. He quietly asks, “How was your drive up?”

We ascend a grand staircase; Lars leads me down a dark hall outside the little boy’s room and I feel slightly uncomfortable, “Fine. Long, but I made it.” I say smiling.

“Yes.” He turns the knob and opens the door to a well decorated little boy’s room. Blue and Green planes fly beneath a clouded ceiling. Plastic trucks, matchbox cars and stuffed animals litter the floor and beyond all the chaos a blonde curly haired boy with long eyelashes is passed out in a round spaceship bed. I can’t help but close in on the little tyke who with his eyes closed resembles my own little boy. Lars is picking up toys to make a path as I gaze at his son.

I can’t help but quietly comment, “He’s precious.” My guts wrench for Henri and Scarlet.

“Yes…but he is sleeping. They are all angels when they are sleeping.” He kicks a stuffed monkey toward an open closet. “I was hoping you would meet him while he was awake, but…” I don’t let him finish.

“I got held up in Atlanta.” I say matter-of-factly and it seems to work because he is smiling.

“Yes I’ve worked in Atlanta before, traffic is terrible. Lucky for me I had a driver.” He says holding out his hand to usher me from the room. I realize it’s late but I feel like I’m being rushed around the house.

We walk back down the staircase and I’m hoping at some point I will be able to get my stuff out of my car and settle. No such luck, Lars is ushering me toward the open great room. He hands me a legal sized sheet of paper with black writing from top to bottom and I know this is the mother’s instructions for her husband to handle their son. At the very top; SOREN, is written in dynamic calligraphic letters.
“I’m sorry I can’t show you to your room just yet. I’m on a tight schedule for this production and I have to be on set tomorrow morning at 6:30. That is everything Vilma; my wife has directed for Soren.”

I glance over the list and zero in on his wake time; 7:30 am, Breakfast prepared by Henley. I scan the remainder of the paper before opening my mouth, “Who is Henley?” I ask.

“Henley is our chef. He is wonderful, you will love him, and he arrives at six on the dot every morning.”

“I’m sure I will. Who is Justus?” I ask, the name at the bottom accompanies the statement; “Arrives on Friday.”

“Justus is my oldest son, he is also an actor.”

“Oh, are you working together on this project?” I can’t help but smirk internally, I sound like a pro.

“No, not this time. We have worked together in the past, but not on this production. He is coming into town for pleasure, not business.”

“Ah.” I simply retort.

“He is the other portrait I would like you to paint. Soren…and Justus.”

“Of course.” I start to feel like I have a limited vocabulary.

I scan the list again and there are no wardrobe/uniform specifications printed so I inquire, “What do you want me to wear while I’m attending Soren?”

I seem to have caught him off guard because he is staring at me like I am insane, “I’m sorry?” He chuckles.

“Uniform? Do I need to acquire a uniform?”

He laughs heartily this time and it’s a pleasant sound, “Oh, no. My dear, you wear whatever you like. We are not those types of people.” He says and I think to myself, “This list proves otherwise”. He begins to double over and I didn’t realize I was so funny, “I’m sorry…it’s just, I realize my wife’s list is intricate, but you must understand; Soren is her first child.”

Immediately I’m relieved and it must show, Lars is staring with wide eyes, “Yes, sir. I have two children of my own, but…” He cuts me off.

“You understand then.” He nods, smiling.

I get new mothers are particular and articulate about their children, but wait until she has the next one; this list shit will go right out the window. I can tell by his tone that there is some extended familial drama there but it’s none of my business and I wait for him to continue.

He shifts his eyes to a clock on the wall and says, “It’s later than I thought, let me show you to your room and you may get settled. Will you be able to wake Soren on time?” He asks smiling like I can’t handle it.

“Yes sir, I will be awake when Henley arrives.” I reply with complete professionalism, but I know I will be awake for the rest of the night.

He nods and smirks out of the corner of his eye, “All right then. I‘ll be gone by the time Henley arrives so it will be just you and Soren for the day. I do have a dinner tomorrow night to attend but Henley will prepare your meals before he leaves for the evening. Get acquainted with the list here,” He taps the legal sized paper drooping in my hand. “And I may or may not see you tomorrow evening. We can discuss the portraits once Justus arrives, he has some ideas.” He rolls his eyes at his son’s presumptiveness.

I keep it light, we are only on partial day one; “I’m open to suggestions.”

He laughs and winks at me. I follow him as he waves me toward the staircase; he holds his hand out and says, “The last door on the left is your room Babet; across from Soren. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Please make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.” I say, he turns to go back into the darkness of the house I think to myself, I hate when people say that, “Make yourself at home” it always makes me feel more self conscious about being a guest in a strange house. I shrug my shoulders and make my way back up the steps and down the hall. I open the door, I don’t go in but I do place the instruction sheet on the first piece of furniture I see in the dark room. I turn on heel to go back out to my car and collect my things. The house is quiet while I go in and out; up and down the stairs, my arms full of art supplies and my two duffle bags. My last trip out to the car I grab my stuff from the back seat. The sealable plastic bag, with my care package from home inside, is not living up to its name. I can detect a hint of cannabis when I grab my linen sack concealing the package. I want to kick myself for not buying papers at the gas station; I won’t be able to indulge tonight. I certainly could use it, driving and basically a stair-master routine later I’m going to be restless until Lars leaves or Henley arrives or Soren wakes.

My bedroom is a good size; it has standard beach furniture, blonde wood. Inside the door to the right is a large dresser, just past is a closet. I drop onto the fluffy mint green duvet that matches the walls and look around. Between the end of the bed and entertainment center is a narrow walkway, flat screen television, blu-ray player and shuffle player stereo reside inside the cabinet. There is a nice sized window at the end of the room and by the bedside is a small table. The décor is beach fare; starfish, tropical fish and driftwood. The floors throughout are light bamboo with white trim.

I push myself off of the bed and grab my tarp from the long plastic bin. I unfold a portion the material in a nook of the room. I’ll have to wait for the sun to come up before I can position my easel and I hope that the light in this room is good. I prop it against the window frame none the less. I’m not one to unpack my bags and use the dressers in hotel rooms or any other place besides home; but I am one to lay out all my toiletries and I’m a little excited to see the bathroom. I quietly creep into the hall since Soren’s room is directly across from mine; cosmetic bag and “LIST” in hand. The door opens like butter and I slip inside. I flip on the light and I’m amazed at the luxuriousness of the communal bathroom.

The bathroom is a galley; a wide galley. Two rooms, the powder room is first, a long basin sink stretches from door to door, and there is ample dressing space in this portion of the room. Above it is a large framed mirror and the cabinets underneath are sleek and modern. I open the second door where the basin tub and toilet are, and there is vast space around the two. I wonder what the master bath is like! Wow!

I look in the wall to wall mirror; take a deep breath and running my fingers through my hair I could definitely use a bath. It’s the perfect opportunity to try out the large porcelain basin tub. I turn the water on fast and hot. I slip back into my temporary bedroom and grab the instruction sheet off the dresser. I can become familiar with it while I soak the day away. I secure the door and slip out of my clothes; the water is so hot it’s like ritual slowly sliding into the steaming water.

This temperature is most definitely not healthy but it feels so good. I finally sit and the heat feels like tiny hot pokers on my inner thighs. It’s sick, I know but man does it feel good. I’m settled enough to grab the paper off the floor and the porcelain under my arm gives me a cold shock. As strange as it is a flash of Cian’s beautiful face hits me and I almost drop the paper in the water. Oh how I miss his piercing ice blue eyes under that dark furrowed brow and the tiny strands of his raven hair hanging between those eyes.

I swear I get a whiff of his indiscernible scent; like a Penhaligon’s sample set, and the memory of our time in Mad..Mora’s basement floods my consciousness. I close my eyes and sink further into the scalding water. Flashes of his lips at my thigh and then at the apex sends me over the edge. My body tenses and without touching myself what so ever I fall into ecstasy grasping the sides of the tub the paper crumpled in my fist. I keep quiet but it isn’t without great difficulty. I cannot believe that just happened; I mean the dreams were one thing but this is a whole other level; I’m wide awake.

My dreams. Oh boy, my dreams. In the beginning they scared the absolute shit out of me but after the first couple I began to enjoy it. I was plagued with the vision of a frightening yet alluring creature hovering over me, tracing my body with its breath. Until it penetrates and violates me; drinking my blood while ravaging me sexually was scary; at first. Another subconscious sickness I’m sure. Apparently I’m full of them; death wish after death wish. My long lost boyfriend is a vampire, were he to lose control I would become what he is, what my father is and what my…Estella is. Calling her Aunt is too weird. I drive entirely too fast and on occasion, way too fast. The list goes on.

I shake all of this and open my eyes; attempting to straighten the paper. I hope they don’t think I purposefully crumpled it. I take deep breaths as I calm down from that delightful strangeness. I regain composure and focus on the hand written directions.