XXVII

“Everything alright babe?” Richie asked with concern in his voice. He and Frédérique had already spent some days apart when he stayed in California, but their communications had always fallen somewhere in the range between plain silly and steamy erotic, so the dryness in Frédérique’s voice provoked Richie’s alarm. He could hear Hank Williams’ voice in the background coming from the other end of the line.

“Yes, I’m just tired, that’s all”, Frédérique softly discarded Richie’s answer and moved on. “How was the flight?”

Richie told her about their arrival at the airport and how they’d been welcomed by the fans and then continued for a few minutes until Frédérique convinced him that he should go and get some sleep to catch up on the jetlag and get himself ready for the next day’s performance. He agreed – she sounded tired, too.

After they hung up, Frédérique remained sprawled on her bed with her sleeping shorts and tanktop. She hadn’t been able to shake off the uneasiness the question she had asked herself earlier in the day had provoked, but tried to lose herself in the lulling quality of Williams’ melodies and soon, before even being able to tuck herself under the covers, she was fast asleep.

At 5.35 in the morning, however, her eyes snapped open in realization: she could now see clearly what she had done with her life.

Her mind traveled back to before she met Richie – how she had finally achieved peace and happiness, avoiding the turmoil of a relationship by means of pushing away any men that came her way. By the look of things, however, karma had other plans for her, and had put a sweet, beautiful, talented, irresistibly charming man in her way only so she would let her guard down, and make of her life the quintessential irony.

First of all, despite her unwillingness to let a man come into her life to leave her alone licking her wounds, she had fallen for another one yet again - faster and harder than ever. A man who, in defiance to Frédérique’s impeccable professionalism and ethics, was a client. In addition to that, he spent most of his days either traveling around the world with his band or living with his daughter thousands of miles from New York – the city Frédérique had always dreamt of inhabiting and was hoping to settle down in for good.

As if that wasn’t enough, of course, he belonged to a world Frédérique couldn’t be more of a stranger in: a world that seemed to be in exact opposition to the fiercely privacy-protective quality of the life she led. On top of that, this man wanted the one thing she couldn’t give him: children. And finally, as if years of perfecting defensive skills and modeling herself into a strong-willed, focused woman meant nothing, she was, again, feeling weak and vulnerable.

Back to square one.

Frédérique got out of bed, washed her face and brushed her teeth, put on her navy blue jogging pants, her white tanktop and running shoes and tied a sweater around her waist. She wrapped her hair in a tight bun in the crown of her head, grabbed her i-pod and did what every human being is born to do when endangered: run.

…

On Monday back in his house in California, Richie was driving back home. The band had a week off between the shows in Honolulu and the next appointments in Seattle so he had decided to stay in the west coast with his daughter and had just dropped her off at school.

He had tried to contact Frédérique since the previous night, but her cell phone seemed to be off and had left voice messages but she hadn’t returned the calls. He was well aware of the fact that when she was extremely exhausted and finally lay down to sleep she did so until she was fully recovered, so she had probably slept all Sunday long and was now at work.

But Frédérique was there now, seating under the sun on a patch of green lawn in front of his house, next to a parked SUV.

Richie saw her stand up as he approached the front of the house and directed the truck over the gravel road that led to the garage. She was wearing jeans, an unbuttoned red-and-white plaid shirt -with the sleeves rolled up on her forearms - over a white spaghetti-strap tank top. Her hair was down and flapped with the breeze, her hands in her front pockets. She was wearing sandals and a black backpack stood on the ground between her feet.

Richie offered her a huge dimply smile as he pulled over and got out of the truck to meet her in a tight hug. She couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, but her throat tightened.

“What a wonderful surprise, babe!”, he exclaimed before giving her a smooch. “Have you waited for long? Why didn’t you come in?”

Frédérique shook her head and forced a smile, but wasn’t able to utter a word before he captured her mouth again. He pulled apart when he felt her tension.

“Everything alright?” he repeated the words he had said the previous night on the phone with a tint of alarm as he placed his hands on each side of her neck, noticing her tired, sad eyes.

Frédérique nodded, curving her lips upwards, then added warmly: “Let’s go inside”. She took Richie’s hand and motioned towards the door.

Before opening the door, Richie extended his arm to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers and then slid his hand to the nape of her neck, brushing the skin below her ears with his thumb:

“You look beautiful, you know that?”

Frédérique limited her actions to smile gently and take his hand to kiss his palm.

“Is she home?” questioned Frédérique calmly - meaning Richie’s daughter - , as they walked hand in hand through the door and entered the double-height living room with floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Nope” – he grinned – “house all to ourselves”.

She put her backpack on the floor next to the sofa and walked to stand silently in front of the huge window with square panes. She was soon joined by Richie, whose hands snaked under her arms to encircle her waist, then he placed a soft kiss on her cheek and tried to follow the direction of her glance.

“I missed you, baby”, he whispered in her ear, almost as a confession.

Frédérique remained silent for a few moments and then moved to release herself from his embrace, but only managed to turn around and face Richie, while his hands lowered to rest on each side of her hips.

“Richie…”- she began with a sheepish look in her eyes – “…the reason why I came here is because I need to talk to you”, Richie frowned slightly so she continued: “There’s something you need to know”

“What do I need to know, Fred?”, he questioned without changing his expression.

“I can’t do this, Richie”, she confessed after pausing for an instant, looking up at him and hoping that he made it easier for her by understanding right away what she meant.

“What?” Richie pulled apart to better look at her, deepening the frown in his brow, but keeping the tip of his fingers on the sides of Frédérique’s hips, fearing she would run away if he let her lose. “This?”

“Us”, she said tearfully.

Ow. Richie took a few steps back to sit on one side of the sofa, with his legs wide apart and leaning forward, placing his elbows on top of his knees and entangling his fingers in the space between them. His brow was furrowed and his lower lip pushed forward in a slight pout. He finally tilted his chin up high enough to imply that he was ready to listen.

Frédérique stood facing Richie, with her back to the window. She fidgeted with her hands over the waist of her jeans as she forced her mouth to utter the words she had previously chosen. Then, into the thick silence that filled the room, she spoke with a firm but warm voice:

“You are the sweetest, most amazing man I’ve ever met” – she lowered her eyes to meet his – “and you deserve nothing but complete happiness”, she finally managed to state warmly, and when she saw Richie’s lips open again to speak, she raised her right hand up signaling for him to stop.

“I can’t give you what you want,” she said, “what you deserve”.

In a flahs, Richie stood up and circled his arms around her, pulling her tight to him and kissing her crown before speaking, while his hands draw circles in her back, smoothing it:

“You’re crazy, Fred, what are you saying?” he questioned with alarm in a raspy voice.

“I’m saying that I can’t have children, Richie”, she said sharply against his shoulder, sparing him the details. “I’m broken”.

The interview. Richie thought and closed his eyes tight. Shit.

He winced before continuing: “Shhh” he cooed as he felt the tension rise in the body he was holding in his arms, his hand moved to cup the back of her head. He swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully, a lump forming in his throat: “S’alright”, he softly comforted her and then assured: “I got you, babe”. Ironic choice of words, he thought to himself. “That’s all that matters”.

“It’s not just that” she said softly as she struggled to release herself from his embrace. “It’s everything…me”, she shook her head and frowned, struggling with her emotions.

“Fred…”, he winced - surprise and pain in his voice - and tightened his grasp.

“There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind” – she told him, and when she was finally able to release herself from Richie’s arms she nodded and added – “This is the best for both of us, trust me”. She then finished: “This was meant to end one way or the other, and for once, this time, I need it to be my call”

“What do you mean?” Richie asked, dreading the answer.

“It’s over, Richie”, she said sharply while she locked her eyes with his.

“You can’t be serious”, Richie stated with disbelief and took a step back.

“But I am”, said Frédérique softly, reaching to caress Richie’s face before adding with a soft, warm voice: “I’ve never cared so much about someone in my life before as I do for you, Richie”, she paused, “and this is me caring for you, protecting you…from me”. She tried to blink away the tears in her eyes.

Richie let out a sharp sigh, he couldn’t believe his ears. He raised his arms and entangled his fingers on the back of his head and looked out the window. When it finally sank in, he asked, but mostly to himself.

“What now?”

He could barely see past the pain, his and the one he was seeing in Frédérique's eyes. She looked so vulnerable, so defenseless. He gazed at the horizon, trying to cover the fact that inside, his stomach twisted in response to the sting that hurt him more than it had ever hurt before.

“Now I leave” said Frédérique softly, as she approached him to clasp his face with both her hands and place a soft peck on each cheek. “Then you forget about me. I shouldn’t have happened to you, you don’t deserve this”.

When she was finished, a speechless Richie felt how the air between them thickened, solidified, as if there was a wall that separated the two of them. She was slipping from his hands and he had to find a way to reach in. Now.

Frédérique had barely lifted a foot to walk when Richie suddenly lowered his arms and grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides and moving his eyes from side to side to try to meet hers.

“No, Fred”, he stated calmly, shaking his head “I won’t let you leave, I’m happy with you. Because of you”. He paused before he continued, trying to reason with her and emphasising his words: "I'm glad you came into my life. There's nothing wrong with you – he chuckled softly to lighten the mood – not even your clumsiness”.

“Yes, you will” she replied calmly, focusing on a point somewhere in between his pecs. But Richie didn’t respond to her order, and she ignored his comments. Her eyes were reddish but dry, not one tear.

“Richie, don’t… Please, just let me go”, she pleaded, closing her eyes and squirming to release herself from Richie’s grasp, but he tightened it, and lowered his head to look at her in the eyes, but she turned her head to her side and closed her eyes tight. His tone was strong but hopeful: he had to push.

.

“Fred, I love you”

“No” she gasped.

With a strong pull she released herself and a few quick strides later she was by the side of the sofa, taking her backpack and heading for the door. Richie stood speechless, with his arms hanging by his sides, until he heard the front door closing. He made an attempt to chase her, but a feeling in his gut told him that it was pointless: he's fucked up again. Big time. And Frédérique was gone.