Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

Jeanne’s POV

Weddings have never made me emotional. Ever. Not even Lolo’s. Not even those I’ve attended in gothic chapels, with the solemn pipe organs playing. But not because they weren’t precious celebrations of love, but because for some reason they didn’t affect me. After your father passes away in your arms there aren't many things that can move you.

I’m not sure I can totally blame the wedding, but it didn’t help when Niall couldn’t hold himself together any longer as he saw Erica walking down the aisle to the first chords of Wagner’s ‘Bridal Chorus,’ beautifully executed by the string quartet. He began to cry –spontaneous, unpretentious as he is– as a kid. And he did that gesture that was as a stroke to my heart. He threw his head to Harry’s chest for comfort. And when she saw him, instead of just carrying on or stopping on her tracks, Erica fastened her pace to get by his side, and tenderly offered him her hand. They had altered the protocol, because her granddad was supposed to give her away at the altar, but they couldn’t care less. After all they went through to get to that point, past and present, aware of it or not, it wasn’t important anymore. What was important was them, staring into each other eyes, as if they were in a world of their own. Because they were. They were already married when Niall kissed the back of her hand.

There has been just one person in my life that was inconvenient enough to always ask the uncomfortable question, with the power to take me out of my comfort zone. And that person is Harry. So as he took the stage for his reading, I knew I was going to break down. I had managed to navigate that part at the bookshop, but this time, in this context, and with Sonnet 116… I didn’t need to be reminded love is supposed to conquer all, no matter what obstacles it finds in the way. When I was younger I rebelled against this notion of arbitrary, predestined, unmovable love. I was honest when I told him I wasn’t looking for the love of my life. But I had just met him.

So no way to fight back the tears. I dissimulated in front of everyone, but mainly in front of him as I always do, by kissing the hair of the daughter I chose to have with a man I care a lot about, but that I’ve never loved. I’m always dissimulating… When we found Larry at my place and I resorted to reverse psychology to prevent him from spilling the truth. And when Harry took me out of that faithful swimming pool… I never lost my consciousness, and I felt so safe when I sensed someone else was in the water with me. I’m not a mythological creature. In a circumstance like this, dark pools scare me, as much as selfish pricks that don’t realise how sexist and entitled they are. I know I told myself I’d stay away from Harry, as the night of the bookshop I decided not to tell him about my feelings in the past. But this second time to push him away is getting much harder than the original. As I kept kissing Lara’s head, the ending I wrote for ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’ returned to my mind. I wasn’t able to break them up as I had long planned. I couldn’t do that to them too. Alas, compensation provided by fiction doesn’t seem to work anymore.

“Tell me you never planned your wedding…” Cora’s words suddenly bring me back to reality.

“My wedding?” I say, confused. For how long has she been rambling while my head was in the clouds? “I’ve never planned my wedding…” Not even as a teenager. By the age of ten I read Anne Frank’s diary, and thought there was no future for human race. So there really wasn’t room for love in my imaginary while growing up, just for my parent’s, which I learnt pretty soon was quite non-transferable. I switched my attention to other ways of love that seemed more fun and less worrying. “The only time I did something akin to planning a wedding was when I inter-railed Paris-Madrid–––I mumble, wondering if this will do. Some random dude sat behind us and took his shoes off. He was so stinky my friends and I decided to punish him, and what a better way to do so than not to let him sleep talking about wedding dresses and wedding traditions.” Cora lets out a cackle. I shrug to myself, sitting alone in this garden bench.

“Are you all right, Jeanne?–––she speaks a moment later, the tone of her voice turning concerned. You sound a bit distracted… Should I call you later? I thought you wanted me to tell you if there were any news.”

“No, no, I’m all right–––I hurry to say, straightening up. I just don’t know if I have to keep pushing this…” I rub my forehead. I’m not sure about going with this so-called ‘universal individual’ that is no other than more and more masked patriarchy. But maybe I could ‘feminise’ this man, and tell a completely unexpected story.

“Jeanne, have you been crying?” Cora asks out of the blue.

“No.” For a second silence fills the line, as I stare into space. “Yes…” I finally admit. I had to leave the reception because pretending was becoming too much for me to handle.

“Harry?” My silence speaks volumes again. “Do you remember how I learnt about you two?” She inquires, sounding quite entertained. I twist my mouth. It wasn’t part of my plan to let her know about it, but sometimes… “The day Lara was born I was working in my office, and I got this message from you…” Sometimes life plays tricks on you. “It said: ‘If I die tell Harry Styles I loved him.’” I can’t help but frown. “That’s literally a shirt.”

“I know–––I assert. I was on spinal anaesthesia and scared as hell. I couldn’t word it better.” In that moment of weakness the prospect of leaving him in the dark terrified me. Between that and Lara I’d never been more terrified in my entire life. And I was all alone… Now I know what he feels about it. He wouldn’t have left. But I knew it then too. Thinking about him and Didier was the only thing that prevented me from going crazy.

“And do you remember what you told me after I made fun of you, telling you you were cute enough to be number 6.000 in a queue of 20.000.000 people?” How could I forget it? “You broke down and said it wasn’t a joke, that if you were to die, I had to look for him and tell him you had fallen in love with him when you met in Paris, but also in London, or anywhere else, because you’d fall in love with him a hundred times?” Why is she bringing this up? This conversation is making my heart ache all over again. Harry is so much closer than anything I could have expected that day, but at the same time, so far away. “Which time is this time?” I feel the tears pricking at my eyes.

“I don’t know…” I mutter, my fingers sinking on my temples. A sudden presence startles me.

“I wasn’t sure you were on the phone from afar,” Louis tells me, gesturing in front of him. I quickly try to compose myself. “I didn’t want to interrupt…”

“It’s OK–––I say under my breath, a hand covering the speaker. Cora, I have to go. Tell them I haven’t decided anything yet.” She mumbles some words to me and hangs up. I hope she doesn’t think she said something wrong. The problem here is not her. “Hey…” I glance up at him, forcing a smile, as I push my phone inside my clutch bag.

“May I have a seat?” I nod my head in agreement. After finishing his action he looks down, hands clenched together, and stays in silence for a moment. “You look beautiful…” He glances back at me.

“Thank you.” We smile at each other.

“You look a bit sad too–––he says. Is something going on? Can I do something for you?” At the thought of my facade crumbling down my heart rate picks up, but I breathe slowly by the nose to control myself, a more discreet reaction than any other.

“I’m just a bit melancholic…” I shrug. Admitting something halfway always satisfies people’s curiosity, and plays more naturally than complete denial. “I was thinking about the day Lara was born.” The more honest your answer is without revealing too much the easier it meets people’s horizon of expectations.

“It was mad…” Louis glances away. I sigh, relieved. “But everything turned out well.”

“I’m glad you were there,” I claim fondly. Before I passed out I managed to authorise him to the nursery. Otherwise she would have been all alone for hours. “Lara loves you very much… She loves facetiming with you.”

“I miss her terribly–––he states, looking straight into my eye. And you too, Jeanne…” His voice cracks a bit.

“I’m here.” I smile. “There’s nothing to miss…” Louis shakes his head, slightly turning away. “You should be around more often.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he complains.

“I know you are busy, but…”

“I’m not sure I can be around feeling how I feel about you…” He rushes to explain, interrupting me. My shoulders fall down.

“Louis…” He just shrugs, a lop-sided grimace on the lips.

“You surely know how I feel about you. You might be hard to crack, but you are good at reading people…” Did I know this? Was I in denial? Or was I relying on him never admitting it?

“You are my friend… and I love you.” Don’t move, Jeanne. Don’t hold his hand, or he’ll feel too rejected. Just look him in the eye to reassure him this is the only thing that matters.

“I know…” He glances down. “It’s my fault developing these feelings… You never encouraged me. You were only being yourself.” How do I get rid of this lump in my throat? I have to fix this. I have to let him know that I care about him.

“Louis, the woman you are looking for is just around the corner,” I mumble.

“Yeah, yeah. It doesn’t matter.” He flicks his hand at me, in that way of his to pretend everything’s well. Maybe that was too condescending. “And what about you, Jeanne?”–––he asks in his renewed spirits. Is it true?” I can’t help but frown, puzzled. “Those rumours about you, about being in love with someone?”

“Oh, that–––I try to play it down. No…” I shake my head. “That’s just to feed the persona.” He flashes me an inquisitive look. Don't be so defensive, Jeanne, or you’ll sell yourself out. And don’t break eye contact. You are trying to convince him you are not lying.

“Not a love believer?”

“Not believing is not exactly the issue…” Back to the half answers in the hopes that he lets the issue go. Louis raises an eyebrow. Why did I let them print that? Oh, yes. To prevent that journalist from being sure about his guesses.

“Alright,” he says, tapping his knees. I’m pretty convincing. Well, I already knew that. That day in Paris I faltered a hundred times, but still managed to dismiss Harry. What a contradictory achievement. “May I escort you back?”

“You may.” He stands up and offers me his hand. As I follow him he intertwines our arms together, and it is as if nothing had happened.

“Jeanne…––––he suddenly mumbles without looking at me. I love you too.” Some people just have the ability to sweep things under the rug. It might come back to haunt you later, but we have to start somewhere. I smile and tighten my arm against his.

The wedding lunch will start any minute now. It’s a bit late, as the schedule got delayed. We continue walking and I can’t help but get nervous, as I spot Harry’s mum at a certain distance. Why can’t I be in peace? I knew she’d be here, but I didn’t want to meet her. It wouldn’t have been necessary, considering there’s enough people to be able to avoid her, but Louis is heading straight towards her. I can’t force him to divert his path, or simply leave. I have to face her, and maybe even talk to her… after all I’ve learnt, which are things she already knows: The fact that Harry went through hell because of what I did with her complicity. Maybe Louis’ presence could neutralise any difficult topic. Maybe she forgot about me… I wish they had just forgotten about me.

“Louis,” she calls him when we get closer. I close my eyes. She looks radiant.

“Anne–––he says as he greets her. Do you know Jeanne?” I let go of his arm and, stepping forwards, I hold my hand out. “She works with Harry.”

“I think we met in Philadelphia some years ago…” She observes, looking straight into my eye, as she holds my hand. But instead of shaking it or just letting it go, her grasp lingers like her gaze does. There’s something in the way she looks at me that reminds me of the way Harry did while being a giant puppy. A mixture between expectation and pleading.

“Niall needs us for the photos,” Liam shocks us, grabbing Louis from behind. I avert my eyes, pulling my hand away. I can’t handle the peaches. I can’t handle anything.

“If you excuse me, ladies…” Both Louis and Niall nods at us before they leave. Anne returns her gaze to me, and I reluctantly lock eyes.

“I met your girl–––she mutters in a tight smile. Congratulations… She’s delightful.”

“Thank you–––I force myself to speak. How are you?” We are treading on dangerous ground, but looking for an escape plan is not a possibility. I have to endure whatever she puts me through. I owe her.

“You haven’t told him…” Her voice cracks. My legs go weak, but I keep my chin up.

“I don’t think he needs to know.” This is probably the most difficult decision I’ve ever made, but it’s what's best for him. Soon all of this will be over and if I don’t falter, as I stupidly did in the past, he’ll be able to move on with his life. For a moment it felt as if we could somehow regain time, but I was just fooling myself. I’m such a negative force in his life when things aren’t under control.

“He’s a different man now, Jeanne,” she claims, sounding quite hurt. I understand she wants this to end, but I can’t. Maybe this time we could at least part from each other as friends. “Jeanne, I don’t think you understand what you meant to him…–––Anne gestures to her side. She could be my grand-daughter…” My chest convulses. It’s so hard to see him flirt, and know any of these people could be the person he’ll fall in love with. One day he’ll be the dad of a child that won’t be mine. But this is exactly what I did to him, so I can’t complain, even if it breaks me apart. “It hasn’t been easy…” She tells me with the saddest expression. I know that part too well.

“What hasn’t been easy, Mum?” Harry’s voice resonates at my back, and my eyelids drop.

No… Not this.

–.–.–

Notes

No bed of roses. More soon.

Thank you to everyone reading this. Love you all <3