Anything & Everything

Paris, France 1935:

“Once upon a time-”

“Wait, I want to tell it, Maman!”

“Hush, mon amour, you know that bedtime means that I tell the stories. So, once upon a time, there lived a princess. She lived in a cottage, not far from here. The girl lived with her-”

“FATHER!”

“Alcide, shall I tell the story or you?”

“You, Maman,” the other boy replied.

“When the young girl was very little, her mother passed away. And, the girl had no siblings. She only had her father, whom she loved dearly. But, she was lonely. The only friends she had were her pigs and chickens. Yes -- you giggle--but it is very sad. One stormy evening, while the girl and her father were eating dinner, they heard a knock at the door. And, when the father opened it, guess who was standing there?”

“A PRINCE,” the two boys cried out together.

“Yes, a very handsome prince-”

“You’re telling this story again?” asked Jacques Jean Jaelard I as he walked into the bedroom of his sons. Jacques was a tall man with pale skin and thick eyebrows that hung over a pair of cold brown eyes. His black hair was slicked back and his suit showed the extravagant wealth that had been in his family for years. The youngest, Alcide, was curled in his mother’s lap while the oldest, Jacques Jean Jaelard II, fondly called Jean, sat, snuggled next to her. While Alcide resembled his mother with her tan skin and light green eyes, Jean looked almost the same as his father. “Édith, the boys are probably tired of hearing about how we met.”

“Plus, Pére is not even a prince,” interjected Jean.

“Me? Not a prince?” cried Jacques, as he playfully ruffled Jean’s hair.

“You’re NOT a prince!” chimed in Alcide.

“Lies! Now, Pére needs to go. So, I will see you for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Noooo, don’t go,” cried out Alcide as he climbed into his father’s arms. “You haven’t even heard how the story ended!” The boy nuzzles his head in the crook of his father’s neck.

“Oh, but I know the ending. The very handsome prince woos the girl and they get married and live happily ever after. Until, they had two very mischievous, troublesome boys. Now, sleep well,” says Jacques Jean Jaelard as he ruffles the tops of his two sons’ heads. The boys’ mother, Edith Jaelard, forces a smile and says goodbye to her husband.

After putting the children to bed, she sits beside a window and gazes at the pale moon. When Edith first married Jacques at the young age of 17, she was enchanted by him. He is, after all, a difficult man to resist. His family controlled most of France. He was charming and made her laugh. She knew that marrying Jacques would give her father relief in knowing that his only daughter would have a good life. And, it was that relief her father took with him when he passed away right before Jean was born.

But, something was wrong and Edith didn’t know what. Now, she rarely saw Jacques at night and just yesterday she saw him slip into his bedroom, shirt untucked and clearly wrinkled. He would show up to breakfast the next morning with an easy, relaxed smile and joke with the boys.

Before their marriage, many women had warned Edith of his scandalous past and his notorious reputation with women, but Edith was sure that she could be enough. That her love, their love, was enough. It seemed the love he once had for Edith was transferred to her sons. He would spend hours telling stories and playing with them and he was adored by both the boys. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel lonely at his indifference towards her. And, where was he going on these long nights?

************

Jacques stepped outside. Rain poured out from the sky and darkness had long ago settled on the rolling fields of his family’s manor. His chauffeur and only man Jacques trusted, Cédric, already knew the destination and pulled off as soon as Jacques entered. Cédric was a Haitian immigrant and had worked for Jacques since he was just an unruly teenager. Cédric knew exactly what was happening on these trips but wouldn’t dare tell a soul. Being a close confidant to Jacques, was what was going to help his daughter have all the opportunities he never had. Jacques paid well, better than any black man in Paris could expect to be paid. But, late at night, Cédric often found himself questioning whether this money was worth abandoning his morals.

The car pulled in front of an apartment settled on a busy street in Paris. Only a dim streetlight lit the cobblestone road, but Jacques still pulled the brim of his hat farther down, trying to conceal his face as best as he could. He stepped out of the car and onto the Parisian street. As he walked up to her room, he could feel it happening, an excited, buzzing feeling washed over him. He rapped on her door three times, one time slow and two times fast. She opened the door slowly, teasing him. This would be fun, he thought to himself. The woman leaned against the door and lifted the cigarette to her red-painted lips.

“Bonsoir, monsieur, are you going to come in?” she asked him, smiling. He nodded and slid past her. As she locked the door, he checked his jacket pocket. He felt its smooth hilt and sharpened blade. Sliding the knife into his pants pocket, he turned around and with a wink said, “I think we’re going to have some fun tonight, mon amour.”

**********

3 hours later, Jacques exited the apartment. Happiness was not a word he would use to describe how he feels after these “appointments” and bliss wouldn’t even touch on the incredible high he rode on as he strode up to the car. “Home,” he said to Cédric as they drove away from the apartment. He smiled to himself as her screams still echoed in his head. He remembered the feeling of first bringing out the knife, the panic, and fear in her eyes. They never expected it. She hadn’t fought it, not really. The acceptance of their fate always diminished from the accomplishment, Jacques liked the ones who fought back. He was thinking about one from a few years ago when Cédric interrupted.

“Sir, you may want to change your shirt, in case, Mrs. Jaelard were to see you enter.”

“Yes, good thought, Cédric. Though, as of late, I’m beginning to find less and less excitement from herpresence. Then again, she is the mother of my children.”

“Well, sir, that’s why you use the appointments. Marriage is not supposed to be filled with fun, but it is a different kind of joy your family can bring you.”

“I suppose so... and the boys would be terribly upset if I were to dispose of her now.”

*******

Jacques walked into the manor in a new collared shirt and shoes. Dark red streaks were caked onto his shirt and his shoes. Luckily, Cédric stored an extra set of clothes in the car. Jacques smiled to himself as he walked up the stairs toward his bedroom. As he passed his wife’s room, he noticed that the door was ajar and began frowning. If it wasn’t for Cédric’s insistence on her staying around for the boys’ sake, Jacques would’ve gotten rid of her a long time ago. At first, she was fun, but she had been young. However, age tends to melt away the fun within a person. Plus, Jacques wasn’t the kind of man to stay with one girl. It was surprising to even him that they’d been married for six years now. The only thing standing in the way of him getting rid of her, besides Cédric, was the boys. Jacques still remembered his motherless childhood. It seemed as if the manor grew larger after she was gone. He didn’t want that for his sons, but he also did not want his wife. He was constantly at war with himself over this, a battle that never seemed to end.

Jacques walked into his bedroom door, deep in thought, not even noticing his wife perched on his bed. She was wearing a silk robe and her dark hair flowed down her shoulders in cascades. She watched him enter, waiting for him to notice her presence.

“Where have you been?” she asked, breaking the silence.

He turned quickly, startled, “what are you doing in my room?”

“Waiting for you. Waiting for my husband.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

“You still haven’t answered the question.”

Jacques turned away from her and walked towards his closet. He unbuttoned his shirt and tried to suppress a sigh. Think about the boys, think about the boys.

“I can’t keep living like this, Jacques. With a husband who’s never home. Is there some other woman?” Think about the boys, think about the boys.

He sighed, still not facing her. Think about the boys, think about the boys. Now, was the decision. Now was the time to see who would win in this battle.