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Noémie et Adèle

Chapter 77: C'est Fini

Summary:

First, thank you for riding along on this journey. I hope you've had as much fun reading it as I did writing. But now it's time to end it and let this fanfic rest in the cache of history and fade away.

I couldn't decide on how to end this crazy story, so I came up with 3 endings.

Chapter Text

At the final moment, I cried
I always cry at endings

 

Ending 1

Portrait of a Lady Reborn
(Or  They lived happily ever after…)

Babe, Éric and I have been talking about getting a ping pong table,” Adèle told Noémie during dinner.

“And where do you guys think we should put it?  We don’t have a lot of space as it is,” Noémie replied.

We have been looking on-line, Maman, and we will get one that can be folded when we’re not playing,” Éric answered.

We can put it in the basement, clear the workshop some, organize, right buddy?” Adèle turned to Éric.

Yes, we will build shelves so we can store all kinds of stuff out of the way,” Éric confirmed.

Okay, show me later what you’re planning to get,” Noémie felt like she was being double teamed, while Adèle and Éric gave each other a high five.

Maman, I want to learn ping pong too,” Cécile interjected.

You are still too little. When you’re as tall as I am, you can play with us,” Éric said.

Don’t worry, Cécile, I will teach you how to play tennis,” Noémie answered.  “Or I can talk to one of the coaches at the school, see if they have a program for little kids.”

“I’m going to learn real tennis and I will play at Roland Garros,” Cécile felt invincible and stuck her tongue at her brother, who just rolled his eyes.

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“I just want to go back to Pierre Quiberon where it’s peaceful and quiet. Let’s put up the kids for adoption. They’re exhausting,” Adèle was lying in bed while Noémie was propped up reading the script for her next movie. She put the script down and looked at Adèle. 

“Let’s. Do you think we can get good money for them?  They got great genes, anyone would be lucky to have them,” Noémie played along, then said more solemnly, “I really loved our honeymoon. You did a great job with planning and keeping it secret from me.”

“I loved it too, but I missed the brats very much, I have to admit,” Adèle said, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how you can bear to be away from them when you’re filming.”

“I know… believe me, sometimes I just want to walk away, but I’m an actor and I’m lucky that I can pick and choose the films that I think will make a difference. I’m actually more baffled that you walked away from it,” Noémie replied.

“The industry gave me so much – you, Céline, Aïssa – but it also gave me Ruggia. He got a slap on the wrist for everything he did to me. Probation? What a fucking joke,” Adèle bitterly said.

“Honey, let it go. You have already changed the world for the better. I’m exhibit #1. I am directing this next film with the backing of a major studio that is not Lillies. That would not have happened 10 years ago. You have spoken at the parliament to decry racism, sexism, all kinds of isms,” Noémie answered while running her fingers through Adèle’s hair, still messy after all these years.

“But don’t you miss it? Acting? A lot of people ask me why you haven’t made a film in so long,” Noémie continued.

“When the right project comes along, I won’t mind. Meanwhile, I still have a job at the Commission, gigs at the Conservatoire and at Lillies... I’m not exactly slacking here, babe,” Adèle replied.

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“You won’t believe what I’ve been writing, and it’s meant to be my real wedding gift to you and Noé,” Céline said during one of their dinner dates. They still met for dinner at least once every 2 weeks, more often if they had time.

“Do I want to know?” Adèle answered. Céline was being mysterious.

“I’m writing a sequel to Portrait. It’s time,” Céline said as she lit a cigarette.

“Please don’t tell me it starts where the first one ended. I don’t think I can be in the same headspace to portray Heloïse whilst she’s listening to four seasons,” Adèle replied.

“No, it’s a few more years after that. Heloïse and Marianne will be the same age as you and Noé are, so early 40s. Marianne has made a name for herself and has become a sought-after portraitist based in Paris. And Heloïse has obtained an annulment from her Milanese aristocrat on grounds of his adultery. She gets the kid, she gets a settlement, and she moves back to France,” Céline just summarized the plot of the story.

“But that will put them smack in the middle of the revolution,” Adèle knew her history.

“I know, and that’s why Heloïse moves back to the old villa, away from the turmoil in Paris. She sends for Marianne to paint her portrait. But the dynamics have changed. Heloïse is now more worldly and sophisticated; she renovates the villa and installs a library. Her daughter has been sent to the nuns for her education. Heloïse has traveled the continent and is more confident of who she is. But Marianne’s status has also been elevated – she is famous in the art world, considered a true painter by both the dwindling aristocracy and the proletariats,” Céline continued.

And the countess? What does she think of the broken marriage?” Adèle asked.

“I have to kill the countess. But Sophie is now Heloïse’s secretary. Heloïse does well with the settlement she got from her husband, invests it in land and other opportunities. A silent industrialist, pulling the strings from an island in Bretagne,” Céline explained.

“And their feelings? For each other?” Adèle was now more curious.

“This time, Orpheus and Eurydice win,” Céline smiled. “Will you be interested in working with the old gang?  Bénédicte has already green lit the project. Lillies, thanks to you and the innovations you brought to the business model, has secured funding. We don’t even need a grant from the Ministry.”

“Have you told Noé?” Adèle asked.

“Well, I’m not supposed to tell you, but Noé is writing parts of the screenplay. Of course she’s on board!” Céline said.

Fall was giving way to winter, but Paris weather remained balmy, and two old friends discussed the virtues of the French revolution as they walked along the Seine.

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“Portrait of a Lady Reborn” got a 20 minute standing ovation at Cannes, 10 more minutes than the first movie. And this time, the jury headed by Kristen Stewart, awarded the movie the Palme d'Or. In fact, the movie swept all categories, including a best actress for Adèle and best director for Céline.

Like Notre-Dame, the bidding for international distribution started even before the end of the festival. People had not forgotten the impact of the first one, and like an old lover, the movie’s return was welcomed by many who never got over how the first one ended.

It also affirmed Céline as one of the greatest directors to come out of France and being hailed as Truffaut’s successor. The movie swept the Golden Globes, the Oscars, and the César, including Best Director for Céline and Best Actress for Adèle.

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Adèle did not go back to full-time acting, but still made occasional films and appeared on theatre. The French public had now realized the contributions Adèle made to society, and on her 50th birthday, she was recognized as a Chevalier of the Légion d'Honneur, France’s highest civilian honor.  From thereon, Noé would try to salute whenever Adèle walked into the house. Éric would sing La Marseillaise before he kissed his Maman, but would always get a kick before he could implore that bloody standard be raised.  Cécile called her “Lieutenant General Maman” and kept asking when she would get the Grand Croix. Hopefully, before I die was Adèle’s standard response.

Time went by fast.

Soon, Éric left to get his own place and attended the Conservatoire, but still had dinner at home every Sunday followed by a best-of-3 ping pong game with Adèle. Éric had a good singing voice and acting chops – he was indeed Noémie’s son. When he started out, he did not want to use his family name which came with so much responsibility and expectations, bearing the names of 2 of France’s greatest living actors. He wanted to make it on his own and went by Éric Grimaud, after the classical pianist that his Maman adored and eventually met and became friends with.  But there was no denying the fact that he was Noémie’s son. He looked just like her character Benjamin in “A Good Man”, made before he was even conceived, and he soon changed back to his real name, Éric Merlant-Haenel.  He would have made it on his own anyway, no matter who his mothers were. 

Cécile was still at home, but she had chosen a different path – she wanted to be a doctor and change the world. She excelled in the sciences and sports. She was Adèle’s daughter, after all.  She’s still in high school but had already decided to sit for the exams at Oxbridge. She would get in, Noémie would always say. But do we want her to leave, Adèle would always reply. In the end, they both agreed that it was Cécile’s decision, not theirs.

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“Happy anniversary, ma femme,” Adèle said as she raised her glass to the both of them. Cécile was by then reading chemistry and biology at Newham College in Cambridge, alma mater of Dr. Jane Goodall and one of the few remaining all-women colleges in the Oxbridge system.

“Twenty five years together! Who would have thought?” Noémie replied as she too raised her glass. “Here’s to us!” They celebrated both the day they moved in together for good, which was when Adèle was released from the hospital on July 28, and another anniversary in the fall, on October 28, when they got married 10 years later.  For some reason, 28 had always been an important number for both of them.

“Did you get me a gift?  Because I got you one,” Adèle, at 56, was still a child at heart.

“Of course I got you a gift. This is an important anniversary,” Noémie replied as she put a red Cartier jewelry box on the table. “Open it.”

Adèle excitedly did and picked the platinum bracelet engraved inside with the number “28” and “With love from N E C”.

“I love it!” Adèle exclaimed as Noémie helped her put in on. “And I have something for you too!”

Adèle gave her a wrapped box. Inside was the napkin rules that Adèle wrote when she decided to help Noémie while she was pregnant with Éric, in a Tiffany silver frame. Noémie’s eyes filled with tears at this much unexpected gift.

“I love it. I love it so much, honey,” Noémie said as she kissed Adèle across the dinner table.

“Éric said he would take us to dinner this weekend, maybe introduce his new girlfriend,” Adèle said.

“And just who is this new girl? Another model? Another César Young Actress?” Noémie replied with a smirk. Through the years, Éric had had a string of girlfriends, none of whom lasted more than six months, so much so that it distressed Noémie and Adèle had to ask him not to introduce anyone to his maman unless he was serious. Adèle didn’t mind, and without Noémie’s knowledge, she regularly had coffee with Éric and his girlfriend-du-jour.  She perfectly understood that he had to sow his oats; she was also a player in her younger days.

“Now, now, babe. He would not introduce her to us unless he’s serious,” Adèle placated her.

“Cécile is taking the Eurostar on Friday and I’ll pick her up at Gare du Nord. She wants to take us to breakfast on Saturday,” Noémie casually said.

“PUTAIN! Full house this weekend!” Adèle exclaimed. “No sexy time!”

“Why full house? Éric has his own place,” Noémie was confused.

“He wanted to come home for the weekend too, just him. We will meet Eliza on Sunday,” Adèle replied.

“Eliza… you’re on a first name basis with his new girlfriend already?” Noémie raised one of her eyebrows.

“Well… you were on set in Lyon and I had time, so we met for coffee. She’s lovely,” Adèle was busted.

“Uh-hmmm… you and Éric, still conspiring behind my back,” Noémie quipped.

“And I did not know that Cécile is coming home, so we’re even,” Adèle pointed to the obvious.

“Touché,” Noémie declared a truce.

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Matured sex – was it still an enticing proposition? Not to young lovers with taut bodies and perfect forms. In fact, the image it conjured could be downright ghastly to them. Unspeakable horror.

But for Noémie and Adèle, age had nothing to do with sex – despite diminishing hormones, surgical scars, and altered bodies, they too had remained in healthy form; their skin might have lost some of the suppleness of youth but the hands that touch had gained a sense of familiarity and unity that could overlook, even deny, the visceral changes of time.

“Making love to you is one of my most favorite things in the world,” Adèle whispered as they writhed under the covers, legs and tongues entwined, taking one or both into other-worldly dimensions.

“Mine too,” Noémie whispered afterwards, her fingers and mouth still nimble as she grabbed and traveled down Adèle’s legs - those legs, those beloved feet. “And I will never tire of doing this,” she continued her explorations into secret places where she knew she could elicit that musical gasp from Adèle.

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There was no such thing as a happily ever after, at least, not on this earth. Life was hard and marriage was a lot of work. Adèle and Noémie worked hard at it until they had finally gotten into a rhythm when they started finishing each other’s sentences and communicated wordlessly. There was no secret, no formulas to follow, no self-help books to read, just love. A lot of love. It all started with a gaze: the stars aligned when they first met, the stars guided them back to each other when they got lost, and now it’s their turn to look up at the stars and give thanks.

They bought a modest (but bigger than the Merlant Cottage which Noémie had ceded to her sister) chateau near Pierre Quiberon where they planned to spend their twilight years, welcome grandchildren during summers, enjoy the company of family and friends, and remember friends who had already gone before them.

They went on hikes on the cliffs and discovered new places in the village. They went to the beach at the end of the day and sat on their chairs to watch the sunset, still holding hands, still kissing each other. One day, one of them would leave this earth sooner, and it would be heart breaking.

But they had already promised to welcome the other to the real “happily ever after”.

Just around the corner.

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Ending 2

Never the Twain Shall Meet
(Or That Absolutely Mediocre Fanfic )

Present Day

Noémie just got home from her all-girls-holiday when she receives a text:

Adèle:
Hey Stranger – been thinking about you. If you’re back in Paris, let’s grab dinner.

Noémie:
I just got back. How about tomorrow?  Meet you at Perchoir?  Or do you have another place in mind?

Adèle:
Let’s make it day after tomorrow, at 19:00?  In the meantime, if you have time, I want you to read this crazy fanfic about us. I want to talk to you about it.   

Noémie:
I have time. How long is it?

Adèle:
Long. 76 Chapters, in English, but it’s an easy read. Or you can turn on Google Translate if you want.

Noémie:
Now, I’m intrigued.

They have not been seen together in public since the César. In private, they met in early summer during one of the protests, but only to say hello. Other than that, they have been doing their own thing. Noémie is not sure what prompted the invitation from Adèle, but she welcomes it. It will be nice to catch up. It seems like a lifetime ago when they filmed Portrait. Noémie knows that the movie is one of the seminal moments in her life – it has propelled her to international acclaim, scripts have been constantly sent over, call backs are more frequent. Her international fans are loyal almost to the point of being scary, but she doesn’t mind. She is grateful for the admiration and amused at being called a lesbian icon because of the movie. That she was part of such a masterpiece that is way ahead of its time, she thinks is simply sublime. There are drawbacks to fame, of course – for one, she has had to create private social media accounts just for her family and friends because the social media universe is not all that safe, as she has seen over and over.  She's been hounded - from BLM to playing a female-to-male trans.

But being in Paris and its citizens’ libertine attitude, she still enjoys a certain level of freedom and anonymity. She can still go to public places without the paparazzi chasing her, and she and countless other French celebrities have the late Princess Diana to thank because France has one of most stringent privacy laws in Europe.  It’s tragic that it took her death to put the mob in its place. But social media is another story, and she has become wary of some of her friends who have posted videos of their holiday whilst tagging her, because her fans jump on every single one of them, to her consternation. As amazing as it may sound, she is still the girl from Nantes who has had a love-hate relationship with publicity: she modeled to put herself through school; she has been in the front row of many fashion shows all because she has an existing contract with LV. It’s a secure source of income while she pursues her other projects, including the 2 films she directed about the Roma community. The short film was released to good reviews, and the movie, which she co-wrote with former mec Gimi, is in post-production. Her life, all in all, is good.

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Adèle has always had a secret Twitter and IG account and despite her protestations that she does not use the internet, well, she does. She reads message boards and sometimes checks Twitter and IG but is turned off by the stans and cringes at all the girls who joke about dying for her or marrying her. Believe it or not, she knows where the term “stan” comes from – yes, she likes Eminem – and the song that inspired the term is very grim indeed. She knows about the Noéle fans and she finds the whole thing, at most, amusing. She’d choose the Noéles vs. the stans who send her messages on Twitter and IG every day, so much so that she stopped checking anything that might have tagged or hash-tagged her name. Now she only goes to see what’s trending, because nothing spreads news faster. Sure, she has to filter the junk out, but every now and then, she goes through the rabbit hole – the last one was on Chadwick Boseman. She loves Black Panther.

In one of the boards, a poster shared a link and asked the Noéles to read a fanfic, which was promptly panned by Noémie’s fans but politely ignored by hers – and it piqued her attention. She reads the first part… and before she knows it, she has bookmarked the page and would read it when she’s on the Metro around Paris or on the train to Rennes.

First, Adèle was amused; she would start laughing at the author’s lame attempts at literature and trite dialogues. But other times, she was taken by the story and would second-guess herself if something really happened or if she really felt that way. Because déjà vu. Reading the fanfic, she thought, is like watching a train wreck – maybe not the best analogy if she’s on a train – but she cannot stop reading it. There are parts that she swears really describe how she felt at certain moments. Sometimes, the mediocre writing (as concluded by the Noémie stans) was not very far from the truth – especially how infatuated she was when they were filming Portrait.

She never told Noémie how she felt – she couldn’t. They were both in exclusive relationships, and Noémie was married, for fuck’s sake! The excerpt from the study that the fanfic author posted regarding prolonged gazes – she too has read it, the entire paper, actually – and can confirm that it is empirically true. Because she fell for Noé; she just did not act on it. And after filming was over, her infatuation simply faded away because real life was more demanding. She had the Mediapart story, she had two other films, and life simply went on.

Those feelings came back during the North American tour where she could hardly contain herself. She was trying her best to keep calm, with amusing results because she was the opposite of calm. Noémie was still married, they didn’t talk about their personal lives, and they were put in a confined situation where, if not for Céline, whom she has always called The Adèle Whisperer, she probably would have done something she was not supposed to do.

But Time heals everything, even fervent crushes. Which is why she can now talk to Noémie about the fanfic freely, because she has entirely gotten over whatever she felt.

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Noémie starts reading the fanfic and gulps when she realizes that the author got her more than she ever wanted to be revealed. She did have a crush on Adèle – she knew of very few people who didn’t – even her very straight girlfriends crushed on Adèle – but she had to temper it once they started filming. Except the gazes were far too real for comfort, and she couldn’t begin to count how many times she blushed upon seeing Adèle looking at her. Simply looking at her.  But like the fanfic said, movie making is like Christmas – the lights are taken down when the holidays are over. She had a crush, then it was on to the next projects, and crushes fade in the process. That’s just life.

Still, she found the story amusing but she cannot judge its literary bona fide – whether it’s mediocre, as her fans on a certain chat site claimed – or whether it’s good - she was not a literary critic. There were parts that captivated her, and if only the author knew how close to reality the Gimi arc was…

Noémie has always been whimsical, subject to flights of fancy, and she finds herself thinking of what a life with Adèle could have been… They are so different on the surface and it would never work, but maybe, they have a lot more in common than what separates them. Just for tonight, she allows her imagination to run wild because tomorrow, she will need to get back to reality.  

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Adèle is already inside when Noémie walks in. They kiss each other on the cheeks before they are seated in the outdoor area – it is a nice summer evening with light west wind breeze. 

“Well, did you read it?” Adèle asks.

“I did, and no Google Translate,” Noé says proudly.

“You go girl! What did you think?” Adèle follows up.

“You first – what did you think? It’s your story as much as mine,” Noé has wised up.

“I read it in English, so I can say that some parts are just entirely lame, some are clever, but all in all, I give it a C+ or a B,” Adèle says.

“If it’s a C+ / B story, then why did you ask me to read it? And why do you want to discuss it?” Noé 1, Adèle 0

“Do I need a reason to invite you to dinner? I know… I know… lame,” Adèle looks into her wine glass.

“It is nice to see you, Adèle. It is always nice to see and hear from you,” Noé says, which made Adèle blush.

“Can you believe it?  This author actually wrote 76 chapters of what our lives could have been?  You and I, together?  Don’t you find it funny?” Adèle laughs.

“Now, you are just being an ass. Like being with me is a joke to you?  Have you always thought so little of me?” Noé is not in the mood to indulge Adèle.

“That’s not what I meant… but the thought that you and I can build a life together… because you are so straight, Noé.  That’s what I find funny,” Adèle tries to wiggle out.

“That part is true. But I am single right now. How about you?” Noé smiles.

“I am single too… wait… are you flirting with me?” Adèle asks.

“Maybe… kinda… just want to see your reaction,” Noé nervously laughs.

They talk about the fanfic from appetizer to main course. By dessert, they have started talking about their projects, just two friends catching up with one another, unaware of the impact their movie has had on so many people and continues to do so. By the third glass of wine, Adèle tries the old staring game, and is very relieved that she can still make Noé break her gaze. By the fourth glass, Adèle is ready to bare her soul.

“I did have a crush on you when we were filming,” she admits.

“Ditto,” Noé utters very softly, almost like a whisper.

Silence.

You’re not blinking,” Adèle says.

Not your line, and no, I am not annoyed. It’s actually the opposite,” Noé replies bashfully.

“Now you’re touching your forehead,” Adèle is halfway drunk and being a brat.

“But I haven't lost control,” Noé is still on her 3rd glass, so not as inebriated as her dinner companion.

“That ship has sailed, hasn’t it?” Adèle said sadly. “After tonight, when will we meet again?  You have your premieres and films in the works, I’m still working on this fucking play. You hang out with your friends and I hang out with mine.”

“Never the twain shall meet,” Noé says in English then asks the waiter for a 4th glass of wine.

“When did you start reading Rudyard Kipling?” Adèle is impressed.

“I read a lot more than you think. I’ve been trying to improve my English,” Noé replies.  “But yes, that ship has sailed. Let me just remind you that you ghosted me. You did not return any of my messages. The fanfic got that part right," Noé said with a hint of bitterness.

"I know, but you have always been a better person than I. Maybe I took it for granted that we could always pick up where we left off, and you would still be as accepting as you always have been," Adèle replies.

"You've always taken a lot of things for granted,"  Noé says matter-of-factly. "But it doesn’t mean we cannot have dinner more often. I have enjoyed tonight. Because you are right, I am a better person than you." 

"Arrogance does not suit you, babe,"  Adèle replies teasingly.

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“I’m going to walk home,” Adèle tells Noé. “I had a great time. We should do this more often.”

“We should,” Noé replies. “I’m taking a cab – I’m on the other side of the Seine. And it’s almost 23:00.”

“Take care. Text me anytime,” Adèle says as she heads for home.

Noé does not hail the first cab, or the second cab, or the third. Instead, she watches as Adèle walks away, with that distinct gait which she has always found charming. After about 50 meters, Adèle turns around and runs back when she sees that Noé is still there.

“Did you forget anything?” Noé asks as Adèle, catching her breath, stops in front of her, cups her hands on her cheeks, then kisses her the way French people kiss.

“Too bad never the twain shall meet,” Adèle says in English, tacitly admitting that they need to both get on with their lives. She kisses Noé one last time, then leaves with a Cheshire cat grin on her face.

Noé watches her again as she walks away, but this time, Adèle does not turn back. Still, Noé watches until she is out of her sight before she hails the next cab.

She smiles all the way home.

 

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Ending 3

Love in Time of CoVid
(Or I Have A Dream...)

Present Day

Adèle has been sleeping, interrupted only by occasional trips to the bathroom and eating soup that she cannot taste left on her doorstep by friends. She is on her 1st week of quarantine after she tested positive for CoVid. She gets text messages but has turned off her phone because all she wants to do is sleep. All she needs is sleep, according to the doctors. Mama Haenel, in full PPE, comes in every other day or so to check up on her, but otherwise, quarantine is quarantine. 

It is a known side effect that CoVid induces vivid dreams. Some may call them disturbing, even nightmarish, but Adèle’s dreams have been… surprisingly pleasant and unbroken. She sleep-walks to the bathroom and sleep-eats her tasteless soup and when she goes back to sleep, the dream continues, like she paused her BluRay only to hit play again. In her dream, she and Noé fell love in Pierre Quiberon, went through some drama primarily because of her… maybe this is an extension of her subconscious… but who knows? Dreams are dreams. They got back again, then broke up again because of… Gisèle?  Or because of her?  Finally, she dreams that she was stabbed and traveled to Heaven then woke up with Noé on her side. They build a life together - why is Gimi even in her dream? – and Gisèle and Julia hooked up?  She’s laughing in her sleep. And she and Noé have 2 kids named Éric and Cécile. My God, these dreams are so real… they got married? And she quit acting? Not a bad idea, come to think of it.  But the life they had together… Adèle never wants to wake up. It is so comforting, and dreams are all she has to get her through CoVid.  The sexy times are a bonus.

Finally, her symptoms abated before the 2nd week of quarantine, but for some reason, she wakes up each morning half expecting to see Noé beside her, and their 2 kids running in to wake them up. For a split second, Adèle is still living her dream, before reality sets in and she realizes she’s in her flat alone.

“Ma, I had the strangest dream… it was unbroken and just went on and on,” Adèle tells her mother.

“Good or bad?” Mama Haenel asks.

“For the most part, good. I dreamt about Noémie, and that we got together, had 2 kids, got married, and lived happily ever after,” Adèle confesses.

“That’s not possible, right?  Noé is straight and married?” Mama Haenel is behind on current events.

“Ma, Noé got divorced last year, before we flew to America for awards season,” Adèle replies. “But yes, she is straight.”

“You know what they say – dreams are a window to our soul, portentous of what is to come, or extensions of our psyche,” Mama Haenel replies. “People have been dreaming and writing about it for thousands of years, and yet even now, dreams are still a mystery. Maybe at the bottom of your deepest subconscious, that is what you have always wanted, and Noé just happens to be the woman in the dream. She's a place holder?”

“I have not seen or talked to Noé in months. She is definitely not in my short-term memory,” Adèle says.

“Well, it’s just a dream, as I always told you when you were a kid and you would wake up screaming,” Mama Haenel assures her.

“Ma, every time I wake up, for a split second, I expect Noé to be beside me and those 2 kids to bounce in,” Adèle is wistful.

“Then, take it for what it is. A mystery. The great unknown. A window to your soul. Why don’t you call her? What do you have to lose?  You are single. Is she?” Mama Haenel replies.

“That’s what I don’t know, but I guess I can ask Céline. They regularly talk to each other,” Adèle sighed.

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“How are you feeling? We’ve been worried about you!” Céline exclaims on the phone.

“Better, taste and smell are coming back. My head is still foggy, but clearing up each day,” Adèle answers.

I was on the soup supply schedule that your Maman sent to all your friends,” Céline says.

“Thank you. I would say they’re delicious, but I would be lying because I had no sense of taste,” Adèle replies.

“Is there anything I can do?  Anything you need?” Céline asks, concerned.

Thank you. But I have a question…“ Adèle hesitates before she continues, “Is Noémie currently single?”

“She is, as far as I know. Her friends have been posting videos and pictures of their all-girls summer holiday. Why do you ask?” Céline was baffled at the question.

“It’s a long story, but I can blame CoVid.  One of these days, I will tell you,” Adèle answers.

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Adèle doesn’t want to forget and she has started writing down what she remembers of her dream. Sometimes, the recollection comes at the most inopportune time – e.g., shower – and she hurries back to her desk to write everything down. Before long, she has almost filled a notebook – anachronistic and apocryphal vignettes of scenes flashing in the back of her head – and she reads them at night to see if they make sense. But they don’t fully make sense because dreams seldom do and she has only written bits and pieces with a lot of holes to fill. Some dreams dissipate in the morning when real life takes control, but others linger. An unshakeable stream of paroxysm that takes its place amongst reality.  Maybe it’s one of the neurological effects of CoVid. Or maybe it is indeed a window to her soul – she has always had a very unquiet mind – and it took a virus to calm her neurons and let her mind wander to parts unknown.

She’s lying in bed reading her notebook when her phone rings. It’s Noémie.

A: Hey, you.
N: Céline told me you got CoVid. How are you?
A: Better, but the first week was a sonofabitch. I slept through most of it.
N: Welcome to the club. I’m here to give you your toaster. (Laughs). Seriously, is there anything I can do?
A: Where are you?
N: I’m in Paris, then it’s on to Deauville in about two weeks. Why?
A: I’m hoping to see you, but I’m still under quarantine.
N: I can wear my mask. Do you want me to come over?
A: Can you? I’ll text you my address.
N: I’ll be over tomorrow and I’ll bring dinner. Anything in particular, aside from your favorite corn on the cob? 
A: Thank you. No, I don't need anything. Just you.

Just like that, no questions asked.  That's one of things she likes about Noémie - she does not ask a lot of questions, not because she's pliable. It's because she's trusting and takes things for what they are - no hidden agenda, no need to interpret in between the lines. What you see is what you get. After all this time, she's till the same. Please don't ever change, Noé, she silently said to no one.

--------------------------------

“Nice mask,” Adèle tells Noémie, who is wearing a purple unicorn mask that matches her shorts, which reminds Adèle of Cécile.

Yeah, I got it in Marseilles. If you had told me, I could have gotten you one,” Noémie replies.

“Uhm… we don’t really talk on the phone or text, remember?” Adèle reminds her of the state of their friendship.

“Probably because you didn’t reply to the last few text messages I sent you after César?” Noémie counters.

“I know… that was bad, but please remember that the merde hit the fan around that time,” Adèle defends herself.

Uncomfortable silence.

“I’ll set the table. No corn on the cob, but I got us some salad, chateaubriand – maybe not as good because it’s takeout – potato au gratin, pastries, and… voilà, red wine,” Noémie informs her like a waitress reciting the specials of the day. Adèle smiles… this was one of the vignettes of her dreams.

Adèle was apprehensive and excited before Noé arrived. She took a shower, changed from her PJs to her jeans, and put on her chain necklace. She even blow dried her hair and put lipstick and perfume on. What the fuck are you doing, Haenel, she asks herself, and then she laughs: it’s only Noé, calm down!.

“Nice dinner for two old friends,” Noémie excitedly says after she sets the table and lights a candle set in the middle.

“C’est merveilleux, Merlant!” Adèle smiles as she takes a seat. Noémie has always loved Adèle's smile. It used to brighten up the gray Bretagne days and two years later, it still has the power to make her smile.

At some point, it’s apparent that one bottle of wine is not enough, so Adèle goes to her stash and picks up a bottle she brought from Pierre Quiberon two years ago, an ‘89 Grand Cru.

“Let’s finish our dessert on the couch. I’ll uncork the bottle and air it out,” Noé tells her.

“You know… I’ve been trying to look for this vintage, '89 Quiberon, ever since we got back from filming Portrait,” Adèle says to no one in particular.

“What’s so special about it?” Noé asks.

“89 was the year I was born, so it’s as old as I, and I bought it when we were filming in Bretagne. The 1989 harvest was also very good,” Adèle answers, still looking at her glass.

“Well, here’s to you being born, and here’s to Pierre Quiberon being the backdrop of us,” Noémie raises her glass. "

"Cheers!" Adèle replies before she starts swirling her glass. "I have to talk to you, that’s why I asked if you could come over. And I need the peace and quiet so you can listen and tell me if I’m crazy." 

“Okay…” Noémie is not sure where this is headed. Adèle stands up to get her notebook from the bedroom.

“Last week, at the height of my CoVid, I slept a lot, I think I told you. And I had a continuous dream sequence… meaning if I went to the bathroom or eat something, I go back to sleep and the dream resumes with the same plot. It was like watching a movie, except this was a very long dream. Or maybe a series of interconnected dreams, I'm not sure. I have started writing down what I can remember," Adèle says as an introduction.

“And…” Noémie is now very interested and does not want to interrupt Adèle.

“I know I might sound like Nicholas Cage in ‘Family Man’ when he yelled ‘WE HAVE A HOUSE IN JERSEY!’, but Noé, WE HAVE TWO KIDS NAMED ÉRIC AND CÉCILE!” Adèle just lets it out.

“And we fell in love on the set but I was an asshole and you were still married, and we went to your parents’ beach house…” Adèle is now reliving her dream.

“Wait, where is the house?” Noémie asks, perplexed.

“In Bretagne, north of Nantes, and 30 minutes from Rennes,” Adèle is not certain how she can remember all the trivial details. But then she sees Noémie’s very surprised face.

“Is it in Vannes? It’s more like an hour and a half to Rennes, but my parents do own a place there,” Noémie says.

“I don’t know, we just called it The Merlant Cottage in my dream, and there’s a private beach…” Adèle replies. Noémie does not answer, because they do indeed call it The Cottage and it does have its own private beach.

Adèle continues, “And we were living together here, in my flat, because you and Simon separated, then I left you for Gisèle. But throughout the dream, I was still pining for you, then I even saw you and Simon after you signed your divorce papers….”

“Please don’t tell me you saw us in the Latin Quarters… because this is getting really weird,” Noémie interrupts.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it was in the Latin Quarters, the place has an extensive wine selection,” Adèle answers and she sees Noémie shaking her head in disbelief but not saying anything.

Adele proceeds to tell her about CoVid, the lockdown, and trying to get her back.

“Wait, hon, I’ll put the kettle on for some tea,” Noémie says as she goes to the kitchen. This is going to be a long night, she can tell.

“YOU ALSO CALLED ME HONEY IN MY DREAM!!! And putting on the kettle for tea!!! This is full on déjà vu!!! Look, I even wrote it down!” Adèle says as she holds up her notebook.

Noémie comes back with 2 cups of tea with honey and sits back again next to Adèle, who continues the story with more details, as they are all coming back now.

“I broke up with Gisèle after the lockdown, which is not really far from the truth, although my dreams have some dramatic license. And then you and Gimi got together and were having so much sex, you got pregnant, and you asked me to help you because you two broke up. I grudgingly agreed, but I got stabbed and tripped out in what I could only deduce as Heaven and you dreamed I died, kinda like the movie Inception, and when I woke up, you were next to me and I told you I loved you, and we have been together since. We have a son named Éric, born on my birthday, and then you starred in Céline’s musical and won all sorts of awards for it. And we wanted another kid and we used my egg but you were the surrogate, and we had a girl named Cécile, who looks just like me. We moved to a house and we were happy. Then you proposed to me, and not to be outdone, I proposed to you too, and we got married and went to Pierre Quiberon for our honeymoon…” Adèle’s words just spill out.

“Then what happens?” Noémie is now very intrigued with the story.

“This part was a fast forward… Céline wrote a sequel to Portrait and you co-wrote the script, and everyone loved it. Éric grows up and looks just like you in ‘A Good Man’, he attends the Conservatoire while Cécile goes to Cambridge in the UK and becomes a doctor. We buy a house near Pierre Quiberon and we retire there…” Adèle finishes the cliff notes version.

“And we lived happily ever after?” Noé asks with a smile, very touched by the story.

“We are very happy,” Adèle says, finally aware that she switches back and forth between past and present tense. “And each morning over the last few days, for a split second after I wake up, I look for you beside me and I wait for the 2 kids to come into our room… before I realize it was only a dream and I feel really sad.”

Noémie reaches out to hold Adèle’s hand and puts her head on her shoulders.

“It is a really weird dream… weird in that some of the details are correct, like my parents’ cottage and Simon and I going to the Latin Quarters after we finalized our divorce, and Gimi… he almost got me pregnant. Story for another day,” Noémie says wistfully, before asking softly, "Tell me about Éric and Cécile. I would like to meet them someday.”

Adèle smiles at the recollection, "Éric, he looks just like you, with dark hair and dark hazel eyes. He is artistic and sensitive and he can beat me at ping pong. Not often, but he can. He is very sweet, and we're buddies. Cécile looks just like me with her blonde hair and curls, and she is always hungry. You're very amused because we walk the same way. She's a lot more forceful than her brother. You can tell that her head is always working, the wheels are always spinning, and she's smart. And you and she are very close... she's your girl."

Noémie smiles as she hears about their theoretical children. Adèle turns around to face her and looks at her intently. 

“I don’t know why I never told you… and half of the time, I don’t know why I do the things I do… but my God... I never stopped loving you,” Adèle is taken aback by this realization. "I know we could go our separate ways and we would both be okay. I know it's just a dream... maybe it was just CoVid or some Freudian mind trip. But I swear nothing has ever felt more real. Noé, I have seen what we could become. We would have to make sacrifices and it would not be all heart emojis all the time, but at least we would be together, and it would be awesome. Please, tell me that you're with me and we can give this dream a chance to come to life. " 

“That is so trite and literal, Adèle,” Noé laughs, before solemnly declaring, “Somehow, I believe your dream, and we can have a go at it because I might actually be feeling the same way, but minus the part where you’re an asshole and I’m a sex addict.”

“I cannot promise I can stop being an asshole overnight… Adèle says, then almost whispers,“Noé…I want to kiss you… is that okay?  I might still have CoVid…”

“I don’t care if you have a bomb in your mouth…” Noémie says as she kisses Adèle.

"Can you stay for the night?" Adèle asks in the most charming Adèle fashion. 

“I didn’t bring anything with me…” Noé protests.

“I can give you a brand-new toothbrush. You don’t need anything else,” Adèle smiles her million-dollar smile, then very softly and mischievously says with a wink, “I intend to keep you naked."    

“I will like that very much,” Noémie answers, not letting go of Adèle’s hand, not breaking their gaze, and seeing their future together reflected in those blue-green eyes.

Adèle pours the remaining ‘89 Quiberon and they both raise their glass to make a toast: "“Here’s to new beginnings." 

C'est Fini