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Edna Pontillier sighed softly, folding her gently sun-reddened arms and laying her chin down upon them. As improper as it was, her mental exhaustion weighed more heavily on her than the need to be lady-like. The beams from the afternoon sun warmed her back through her muslin dress and was likely going to leave an unflattering burn by the evening, but Edna could not force herself to care.
The only company Edna had on this hot summer day was her companion, Adèle Ratignolle. Adèle sat opposite to Edna at the small table, white gown contrasting Edna’s darker choice of fabric. She knew Edna was feeling unwell and was determined to cure her friend of her inner ailments.
“You are troubled, are you not, Edna?” asked Madame Ratignolle. “I see you furrow your brow. You should not furrow your brow, it’s unbecoming. Tell me what’s troubling you instead.”
Edna barely looked up, glancing only slightly to see Adèle’s wide-brimmed sun hat casting a shadow over her fair face. Adèle would not understand the deep-set misery Edna felt. Edna barely understood it herself. Besides, Adèle always seemed to find enjoyment in her life. Who was Edna to taint her happiness? “Nothing is the matter, I am just tired.”
“Excuses, excuses,” hums Adèle, disbelief hiding amongst the flowers of her voice. “If you were only tired, you would not have agreed to come to the beach alone with me. Why leave your house if your body is already weary? No, you must be running from something, pauvre chérie.”
Edna raises her head enough to look up at Adèle indignantly. “I am not running from anything, you are inventing fantasies!” She could not stand Adèle’s stifling pity. Adèle seemed to have a perfect life, so how could she feel any true sense of empathy towards Edna? The whole situation seemed cruel to Edna. “I am allowed to come to the beach whenever I like, even if I am tired. Besides, I couldn’t have you spending the day completely alone, Heaven forbid something bad happen to you.”
Adèle fanned her face with one of her delicate hands. “I suppose you are right. Though, the sun is making me more exhausted by the minute, perhaps the heat is the cause of your problem,” she suggested. She glanced at the ocean, watching the cool waves glow passionately as the afternoon rays gleam off of them radiantly, “Would you care to join me to go bathing?”
“Are you sure you can stand my company at the moment? I’m afraid my attitude is not very bright today, I would hate to share my down-heartedness with you.” Edna could not even think about considering the idea, attempting to dissuade Adèle the same way small animals run at the most minute instinct. A faint feeling of intimidation or fear accompanied the thought of bathing with Adèle for reasons Edna could not fathom.
“Nonsense, mon amie, I insist. I believe it would do us both good to cool down in the shallows, I know how you prefer the less deep waters.” Standing, Madame Ratignolle pulls her parasol out from beneath the table and opens it, casting a delicate shadow over the two women. “I’ll even shade us on our way to the shore. I would hate for your burn to get any worse.”
Edna hesitated for a moment, grappling for another excuse to not go. Perhaps the waves were too big, despite the tide being out. Perhaps she was feeling sickly and needed to go home. No reasons she could give would be acceptable, much less true. Honestly, Edna wanted to bathe with Adèle. Which is exactly the reason why she should have stayed at home. With a sign of resignation, Edna stands as well, ducking beneath the shade of Adèle’s lace parasol.
The two women walked wordlessly towards the ocean side by side, footsteps quietly leaving prints in the sand, evidence of their existence. Despite the overwhelming sights and sounds and smells of the beach, Edna could not help but notice the faint brushing noises Adèle’s white gown made as she walked, like the breath of an angel. She saw her companion’s curls bounce perfectly in unison with each step, as if part of a cosmetic army, and the smell of Adèle’s cologne pierced through the smell of salt and sand. Lavender, rosemary, lemon.
Edna knew she was unhappy with her husband. She must be. For the only time she felt truly happy, at peace, relaxed, was when she was away with Adèle. Léonce had a type of love for Edna that was so constrained and rigid. She must be a mother. She must be a woman.
But when Edna was allowed to spend the weekend with Adèle, it was as if her heart was free. Even if Adèle was everything Edna could never be, she still showed kindness. Despite their differences, they were equals.
“Edna, dear?” Edna was stirred from her thoughts as Adèle called her name. “Are you going to join me or not?”
Adèle had removed her shoes, leaving them lying on the pale sand. Her white gown was left beside them, weighed down by a small, smooth stone to prevent the wind from catching it and blowing it away. Dressed in only her underclothes-swimsuit, Adèle stood with her ankles submerged in the bright, clear water, tide reaching up her calves like an adoring child.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Edna replied with a curt nod, reaching behind her back to undo the laces of her summer gown. As she fumbled with the knot, she slid her feet out of her shoes, domestically leaving them next to Adèle’s. “Ah, zut,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Adèle, my gown is caught, would you help me?”
“Oh. of course, come here.” Adèle stepped forward as Edna hiked up her skirt high enough to step into the cool shallows where her companion could reach. “Edna, you really are helpless, aren’t you?” Adèle teased, quickly untangling the laces of Edna’s gown, and with one swift tug, yanked it up over Edna’s head.
“Oh!” gasped Edna as the cool, ocean air settled a salty mist on her exposed arms. Even through her modest swimsuit, she could feel the breeze nip her, and she couldn’t help but shiver as she folded her dress and laid it on top of Adèle’s. “Thank you, Madame.”
Adèle only laughed and shook her head. “Don’t thank me, Edna, just get in!” Slowly, she waded backwards, the water inching up her motherly body and hiding her from the world, like a secret. A few of her tight curls had fallen loose, blown astray by the wind, but that didn’t stop her from smiling. She looked like an angel, sent from the heavens to free Edna from her miserable life.
So, Edna followed, seemingly without thought. Watching Adèle, she realized that the water wasn’t as frigid as she first thought. It was as if Adèle was warming the water with her glowing presence, her motherly body, her smiling eyes, her sweet perfume, her unending kindness. Edna couldn’t help but wonder why God had made Adèle so perfect. It was unfair. It was sinful in the most heavenly way, cruel in the most ethereal manner. It made Edna so happy that she felt ill. Léonce had never made her feel this way.
“Adèle, it was very kind of you to invite me out here to cheer me up,” Edna hummed, almost too shy to admit her thanks. “You know I enjoy spending time with you.”
“I know,” replied Adèle calmly, a sweet smile frozen on her lips. “I know you do. And I know how sad you get when you are home. Edna, I hate to see you so unhappy. Is Léonce not treating you kindly?”
Edna hesitated, thinking about her relationship with her husband. It wasn’t perfect by any manner. Léonce was a busy man, and she was a distracted wife. Surely, conflict was normal between them. Besides, she knew of women who had much worse marriages than hers. Léonce had never hit her, never even raised his voice really. Only scoldings when she was careless. “No, he is not unkind. In fact, he is very kind to me. He sends the children and I gifts when he is away, and he works very hard to make money for us.”
“Oh, Edna,” Adèle waded closer to her friend, smile fading into a frown. “Why are you unhappy then, if he is so kind?”
Edna sighed, body falling loose like a wilting flower as she succumbed to her helplessness. “I don’t know, Adèle. You are right, I truly know nothing. I try to be a good wife and mother, but I will never be as wonderful in my title as you are. I am unhappy at home for reasons I can’t describe, but at least I have your happiness to make me happy.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, Edna,” Adèle said quietly. “Though, you don’t really believe I am happy all the time, do you?”
“Well, of course not!” Edna laughed dismissively. “That would be ridiculous of me. I am just amazed by how happy you seem with your husband. I always wish I could say the same. I truly admire you.”
Adèle just displayed a gentle smile. “Well, I’m honored by your admiration then. I must say, I admire you as well.”
“Me? For what?”
“Oh, no reason really. It does not matter.” Adèle fanned her face, nose rosy. “Though I fear we’re getting too much sun. Are you ready to head back to the house? Your complexion is lovely, it would be a shame for you to burn. And I would hate to freckle.”
Agreeing, Edna nodded her head, mousy hair damp against her cheeks. Slowly, the two women tread the water until they were back on solid ground, tucking their feet back into their walking shoes to keep them from getting too sandy. With their dry dresses in their arms, and Adèle’s parasol overhead, they strode side-by-side away from the waterline and back to Adèle’s summer home.
“Go on in and finish drying off, if the sun didn’t dry you already,” said Adèle as she held the door open for Edna, inviting her into the house. “My husband isn’t home, so don’t worry about disturbing him either. It is just you and I.”
“Thank you very much.” Edna slid her shoes off, as to not trek sand through the lovely house, and combed through her hair with her fingers as she wandered inside, eyes glancing about at all the lovely decorum spread throughout the hall. Family portraits lined the walls: Adèle and her husband, their children; along with countless paintings of the ocean. Edna eyed the tumultuous brushstrokes with intrigue as she headed to the washroom to freshen up.
As Edna was sponging away the salt and sand from the hidden crevices of her body, she heard Adèle knock at the door.
“Edna, dear, I brought you a spare, clean dress. I hope it isn’t too ill-fitting.”
Edna cracked open the door and took the dress gratefully. It was a beautifully simple gown, blushing a lovely shade of rose. Made from linen, it slid effortlessly over Edna’s head, and it brushed the back of her calves gently. She pursed her lips at the sight of her ankles, as she was taller than Adèle, but figured it shouldn’t be an issue. It was only them two, alone, after all.
She left the bathroom gently, carefully closing the door behind her. The ornate door handle felt cool against her warm, pink palm. Her bare feet made quiet noises with each step, proof that she existed there in the moment, and she stepped into the sitting room, gazing casually at the architecture of the room.
"Oh, Edna!" Adèle rounded the corner from the kitchen, wearing a light gown of her own. "You look wonderful in my dress, it really helps your complexion. I have lemonade, would you like some?"
"Yes, thank you," hummed Edna politely, following Adèle into the lovely Victorian kitchen. Even in a small beach house, Adèle's kitchen was beautiful. Dark counters lined the walls, and a small coffee table sat off to the side. As Edna took a seat, she brushed straying hairs behind her ears, and quietly thanked Adèle as a glass was set before her.
"Edna," Adèle said, pursing her lips. "Your hair looks like a mess."
Edna blushed. "The salt water makes it messy, I know. It's such a hassle to take care of."
Adèle gently took a small strand of hair in her thin hands, and Edna felt a shiver run down her spine. "If you'd like, I'd enjoy brushing it for you," offered Adèle. "To fix it up, of course. The sea breeze is terrible for lovely locks like yours."
"Oh!" Edna laughed quietly, resting her fingers on the edge of her drink glass. "That would be nice. Thank you."
"If you pinned it up more often, Edna, you'd have a much easier time taking care of it. Why, I pin my hair every day, and it makes everything much simpler. Oh, I hate when hair is such a hassle, getting in the way. Though, my hair is nothing like yours. My hair is all curls, but if I don't manage them, they become quite large and unruly! I would much rather have lovely, straight hair like yours."
Adèle's domestic ramblings are soothing to Edna, between words and the strokes of a hairbrush, Edna finds herself relaxed and comfortable in the warm room. The lights are yellow, shining almost peachy on the walls, and she can feel Adèle's warm presence behind her. It's comforting and safe. "Well, I think your curls are rather lovely. Even if they are high-maintenance. I wish my hair could curl. I've tried many, many times, but my hair falls flat quickly."
"Oh, you're just saying that, but thank you, dear." Edna can basically hear the smile in Adèle's voice. "There, how is that?" Adèle sets the hairbrush on the table and brushes Edna's stray strands behind her ears.
Gently, Edna reaches up and runs her fingers through her hair, impressively smooth. "Thank you," she hums.
"Of course, Edna." Adèle floats around the table, and sits at the chair opposite of her companion. "Now, tell me, what's really bothering you? What can I do to make you less unhappy? Your gloom is rather contagious."
Edna thinks for a moment, still stroking her hair. "Well," she begins. "I wish there was a way that I could be away from my family. The responsibility is too burdensome, taking care of others all the time, and not myself."
Adèle nods. "So you would like to escape your family. I suppose I can understand your reasoning. It is hard work, being a mother." Crossing her legs, she fans herself with her hand, pursing her lips. "Oh!" she gasps, struck with an idea. "Suppose we combined our households?"
Edna furrows her brow in confusion.
"Don't you see, Edna, it's a perfect plan! You and I, along with my few house servants, can take care of our children together. It would be much more pleasant than being alone, especially when our husbands are away so often for their silly work." Adèle smiles pridefully. "It's a splendid idea, if I do say so myself."
Edna ponders the idea quietly. Adèle was quite wonderful at being a mother-woman. In fact, she enjoys her responsibility. If they worked together, both of them could be happy. And it wouldn't be terrible, to have company while Léonce was away. She reaches across the table and takes Adèle's hand gratefully.
"I think that's a wonderful idea," Edna says. Her fingers shift across Adèle's pale, smooth knuckles. Her friend has beautiful hands. "I would love for our houses to merge."
Adèle laughs, a beautiful laugh. Edna can't help but think about how artistic Adèle's laugh is, the musicality of her tone, the rosiness of her cheeks. "Of course it's a wonderful idea! I'm quite clever, you know."
Edna laughs in return. "Yes, I know." Without knowing why, she finds herself raising Adèle's hand to her lips and pressing a kiss to her fingers. Perhaps it's a way of expressing thanks. That's what Edna would believe, at least.
Smiling fondly, Adèle retracts her hand to stand, and removes their empty glasses from the table. "Well?" she says expectantly. "Begin writing a letter to dear Léonce! We must begin preparations at once!" The anticipation in her eyes speaks louder than words.
Most people would say the two women were just friends. Sisters, perhaps. But a bond of this strength can't be explained by anything less than affection, a love so unexplainable for the time that there is nothing to do except enjoy each other's company. A joining of families may not seem romantic in text, but the sweet smiles throughout the years tells a different story.