Chapter 39 - The Man Made Mad With Fear | Seascape at Saint Aubin

I open my eyes in the middle of a field again. For a second, I actually think I might still be at the same place I just left.

But this place is different.

The angel girl and the two little boys aren't here anymore.

There's a body of water to my right, and there seems like there's civilization to my left. I get up and head to the sea. I'm never sure what to expect from people in paintings, and anyway, I kinda just want to dip my toes in the water, and maybe lie down on the beach.

It's a sunny day. I should make the most of it, and this curse.

As I get closer to the shore, I see a man sitting on the beach, with an easel set beside him. He's not painting. He's just leaning his head on his knees while looking at the horizon.

My whole body freezes.

It can't be.

But I recognize this back. I'd recognize it anywhere.

"Gustave?"

The man turns around. Familiar brown eyes look at me in shock.

"Melody?"

He barely has time to say my name and I'm sprinting to him.

He gets up and when I reach him, I jump in his arms. They encircle me, holding me tight against him, lifting my feet off the ground.

"Is this real?" he keeps asking, his face tucked in the crook of my neck and shoulder.

"Honestly, I don't think so," I reply, feeling like my eyes are filling up with tears.

I just left him. It's impossible that I'm right back to him this quickly.

We look in each other's eyes, both incredulous at this other impossible occasion, and Gustave's hand goes to the back of my head, as our lips meet for a kiss.

We kiss like we haven't seen each other in decades, rather than a few minutes for me. Our lips move fervently, our bodies close, my hands holding on to his shirt in fistfuls.

It was a few minutes for me, but how long was it for Gustave? He doesn't seem like he's aged, but anything is possible.

When our lips finally part, I ask, "When did you last saw me?"

"Two weeks ago," he replies, his hands cradling my face, like it's something precious, like he needs to hold on to it because he's scared I might disappear. At least it's the way I feel, as I keep holding on to him.

"Two weeks? Just two weeks?" For us, this is actually good.

"Yes," he replies, his eyes scanning my face. I do it too. I want to engrave every little detail about him in my brain. "And you, how many paintings?"

"Just one! And it lasted like ten minutes," I tell him, almost excitedly.

"So basically, you've fallen asleep in my arms and you've almost came right back to me," he says with a little smile, brushing a hand through my hair.

The soft touch gives me chills.

I feel like I'm gonna combust. I wanna freaking ravage him on this beach. God knows when we'll see each other again. This definitely feels we're cheating the curse.

"Almost, a ten to fifteen minutes of interlude between your arms and your arms," I reply, and hug him tightly again, pressing my cheek to his shoulder.

He kisses the top of my head. "I feel like something awful is gonna happen. This is too amazing and impossible for us."

"Don't jinx it!" I automatically respond, as we drop our hands, allowing some space between us for a second.

Gustave just laughs at me, a beaming smile on his face.

He's as happy to see me and I'm happy to be here and I can't help think about the fact that this curse isn't fair for him. He hasn't done anything wrong, yet he needs to wait for me all the time. He's being punished, like I'm being punished. How is any of his fair to him?

I need to change my thoughts because I'm going to be sad, and I don't want to be sad when I'm with Gustave.

"So, is this the painting we're in?" I ask, motioning to the piece resting against his easel.

Gustave is a subject of his painting again. One of his hands is on his head, the other kinda reaching forward. There's a green landscape behind him, and a blue sky. The bottom right corner is not finished, it looks like he's still working on that part.

Most of his face is in the shadow, but once again, this feels more real, the expressions more vivid, like his last painting.

"It can't be this one though," he points out, as we stand side by side looking at it.

My hand finds his.

"Why not?" I ask.

"Because the background is from back home in Ornans. We're in Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer right now," he explains, and lifts our hands, kissing the back of mine.

"Maybe you paint us here later? Or someone else paints it? Or maybe the little angel girl cheated the rules, and send me here to you."

"I really wish I could thank her if it's true," he says, his hand going to the other side of my face, bringing it closer to him so he can kiss my temple.

I close my eyes when he does. I wish I could sear this moment in my brain.

"You were painting home?" I ask, my eyes still closed.

"Yeah, I'm going there after this. I just wanted to rest by the sea before. It's been pretty warm lately. And I love it here. It feels like time stops."

"It is nice," I agreed, opening my eyes to look back in his.

No one has ever looked at me the way he does. I wouldn't even know where to begin to explain it.

"I hadn't thought I'd be able to see you again this soon, so I wasn't painting myself here. I was working on something for when I get home. I though I could will you back there," he admitted.

"I'd love to see your hometown again. Sleep in your childhood bed. Pretty sure your parents wouldn't be okay with that though," I joke.

He grins. "Probably not."

"But this is pretty nice. It feels like we're on a vacation together," I point out.

"I wanted to bring you here," he admits softly, like this is a secret he'd kept preciously hidden before.
"I'm glad to be here," I reply, pressing a kiss to his shoulder over the fabric of his shirt, "With you."

"I love you Melody."

"I love you too Gustave."

We kiss again, this time more slowly, like we have all the time in the world. We don't, but it's nice to imagine. I wrap my arms around him just as tightly as he does.

I don't ever want to let go. I don't want to leave him again.

Finally, we stop kissing, and I look back at the painting.

"Were you taking a pause before I got here?" I ask, walking closer to it to get a better look.

"Yes, I was just staring at the sea, wishing for my lover to come back to me."

"Oh no, should I leave before she gets here?"

"Come here," Gustave says, as I run away from him.

He catches up quickly to me, and gras me around the waist. I squeal happily, and fight him off, running away again.

And unintentionally trip, and fall, my hand pressing on the corner of Gustave's painting, leaving an imprint.

Shiiiiit.

"Oh no, oh no, I ruined it," I say, feeling like such an idiot, looking between my hand with paint and the mark on the canvas.

Gustave is just laughing beside me though. "You didn't, don't worry, I can paint over it."

"I put my hand on it. There's a mark," I say, and point to my hand and to the imprint in emphasis.

Gustave still is just as unaffected. "I actually like it. I'll keep it like this. You need to keep coming back to me often so you can keep putting your mark on my art. Like my mustache the last time."

"You kept it like that?" I ask, frowning.

"Of course, I did," he replies, like I should have known that.

I smile at him. He's got a life without me. Most of his life without me. I wonder how he spends his days. About his little habits.

"It's so strange to think about you, just living your life normally, waiting for me to come back," I admit out loud.

"Not normally. Miserably. It's a good thing you came back quickly this time," he says, looking at me with fire in his eyes.

"It is," I agree.

His eyes never leave mine, coming closer to me. "I miss you more and more every time you leave me. I don't know how I'll be able to bear it this time. And the next. The next will definitely kill me."

It's so crazy the way I'm smiling and laughing one second and crying and hurting the next when I'm with Gustave.

I wish our story didn't have to be so tragic.

I wish I'd been born in his time, or him in mine.

"I'll come back. I'll do everything I can to come back to you," I promise.

I know it's probably not a promise I'll be able to keep.

But I make it anyway.

I will do everything that I can. I just don't know if it'll work.

"You're like this magical being that doesn't belong here, or to me, and I keep fighting against it. How am I supposed to live without magic once I've tasted it, even though it was never meant for me?" he says, his hand cradling my cheek.

"But I'm yours. Always. Wherever I am. Wherever I go. Whatever I do. Yours and yours always," I assure him, pressing my own hand over his.

I don't know how I'd ever be able to go back to a normal life without him.

If I was to go back to my life right now... I have no idea how I'd deal with losing him.

Gustave's attention suddenly turns to movement a little further away from us on the beach.

Three men are accosting their boats on the shore. I find it a little odd. Aren't they worried that the boat might be stuck here forever?

It's not that big of a boat though, so it will probably fine.

Gustave is suddenly heading towards the men.

I frown, confused about what his intentions are, but still follow him.

"Are you a ship captain good sir?" Gustave asks one of the men that seems to be in charge when we're close enough.

The man looks confused about the question. "I... guess..."

"Can you marry us?"

"Gustave?" I gasp, grabbing his arm. What is he doing?

He ignores me and continues talking to the seaman. "You see my good sir, my fiancé here is a little fickle and she tents to disappear for long periods of time and I really want to make sure she's going to stick around. So, I think marrying her will help my cause. I want to make sure she'll come home."

I look at him like he's insane. At what point did I agree to marry him? When did I become his fiancé?

I look at him like he's insane and I love him. But also, this is pretty freaking sudden. This man really is insane.

"I can only do it at sea, and for it to be legal you'd need someone once you get back on land to ordain the union legally," the man explains.

Gustave steps into the sea. "There, this is okay?"

"No, I mean on my ship, out on the sea, not on the shore," the seaman replies, looking a little exasperated, but a little amused at the same time too.

"Come on, humor me. It's really more for the ritual. I'll pay you if you need."

"Are you okay with this?" the man asks me.

Am I okay with this? Is it even a question to ask?

I reply, while smiling back at Gustave. "Whatever makes him happy, I'll do it."

"Alright, fine, just let us finish this," he tells us, though he doesn't sound exactly convinced about the whole thing.

We wait, a little to the side, waiting for them to grab things and accost the boat correctly.

"So, this is how you propose?" I ask Gustave, my voice low.

Gustave leans his head beside mine and in the same tone replies, "I have to do it quickly before you disappear. Run away if you don't want this."

I grin. "I'm staying right here."

Is this feeling what convinced people to get married at Vegas by an Elvis Presley impersonator? This intoxicating feeling of recklessness.

Finally, the man is done. He looks at us. "I've never married anyone before."

"It's okay, I never got married before either," Gustave replies.

"You know the vows?" he asks us.

"Sure," Gustave replies, and takes my hands. We've both got our feet in the sea like it's gonna make a difference, like it's gonna make this wedding legal because of it.

We're idiots.

I guess being in love makes you do these crazy things.

"I, Jean Desiré Gustave Courbet, take thee, Melody Orsay, to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, till death us do part."

I didn't even know his full name, and now I'm marrying him apparently?

I repeat what he just said, "I, Melody Orsay, take thee, Jean Desiré Gustave Courbet, to be my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, till death us do part."

"I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss each other, and maybe find a church. I do want to remind you that this isn't legal," the man tells us.

"I really don't care," Gustave tells him, his eyes never leaving mine, and then lifts me off my feet, planting a kiss on my lips.

The men leave, making grumbling sounds.

We ignore them.

"You're insane," I tell Gustave once he finally sets me back on my feet.

"You're a woman from the future that appears in paintings. I think a somewhat illegal wedding is the least of our worries. Also, I don't think either of us will burn in hell for this," he tells me with a grin.

"I can't believe you just had us married," I say, shaking my head.

Gustave is still grinning. Have I really just married him? "Watch yourself, if you ever appear next to me when we're close to a church, I'll marry you there too to make it really binding."

This man is insane and I'm just as insane for loving him this much.

"Wouldn't we need like witnesses and stuff? I think it would be a little bit more complicated. And anyway, I'm already your wife now, aren't I?" I say teasingly.

"Yes, exactly. So you better come back to me now," he says, a hand behind my waist, bringing me even closer to him, our nose almost touching as he looks down at me.

"I didn't even know your full name," I admit.

"No on ever uses Jean Desiré. I just wanted to do it properly. You don't have any middle names?"

"No, my parents thought finding one first name was already a lot, so they didn't bother to add anything else."

"I really wished I understood the rules of this curse. So we could cheat them."

"Let's try not to think about it now. Let's just enjoy the moment."

"Whatever you say my dear wife."

"Wild..." I just reply shaking my head, and Gustave laughs at my tone.

It's late in the afternoon, so we set up camp in a small cove, where there's a sharp rock hill behind us and trees at the tip of the land.

It's nice and if we stay here through the night, I don't think I'll be scared to be jumped when it's dark.

After all, this is still my curse, and the one in charge does enjoy making me suffer.

The worse of the worse would be for something awful to happen to... well... not me.

As we sit down on the blanket that Gustave had brought and eat the food he'd carried—bread and cheese and plums. It's a good thing that Gustave came prepared. We even have wine. It's not that surprising though. Pretty sure it's easier to get wine than to get drinkable water here.

"You know, what?" I say in between two bites of food, "you mentioned hell earlier and... You think this might be some kind of version of hell for me? The last thing I remember is an explosion at the museum. For all we know, I might actually be dead."

Gustave look sat me with a raised eyebrow. "Are you saying this is hell?"

I snort at his expression. But then I say, "parting from you is hell."

He nods. "Much better," and then takes a bite of bread.

"Could I be some kind of ghost roaming around paintings?" I ask.

"It's a theory. I don't like it though. I just want theories where you stay with me forever."

I smile at my husband. "I can agree to that."

"Have you ever thought about creating something yourself?" he asks, brushing bread crumps from our blanket.

"You mean like a painting?"

"Yeah. If you paint yourself somewhere, do you think you could stay there? Become some kind of new curse painting?"

I can't help smiling at him like he's too perfect to be true. "You have the wildest ideas."

"Come here," he says, pushing the food away, rummage through his bag, finding a piece canvas that he unrolls.

"What should I paint?" I ask him, still not convinced.

"Yourself," he replies automatically like this is the only logical option.

I snort. "Do you have a mirror close."

"You can always try to look at your reflection in the sea."

"You're really obsessed with getting me to do art, huh?" I say, my eyes narrowed, but a smile on my lips.

"You caught me."

I humor him, and let him set everything up. Seriously, that bag of his must have been heavy. He's got so much stuff.

I appraise the painting I just made. It's getting dark now, but I can still see it with the light from the fire. "Ugh, I don't like it," I whine.

"What?" he chuckles.

"I hate it, burn it!"

"What?" Gustave is full on laughing now.

"I look like a fish. My face isn't the same color as my neck. I hate it."

"Wouldn't it be how you see yourself if it's how you painted it?" he ponders.

I don't like that kind of logic. If I had talent it might make sense. But alas, I have none. I tell him that. "No Gustave, it's because I have no talent."

"It's beautiful actually."

"What are you talking about, it's awful. No one would ever exhibit that."

"Well, you did struggle with the dress, and really you just did the face and nothing around, so it still needs some work, but that's okay, you can take years before you complete a painting."

"Nope, hate it," I say and I throw the painting in the fire.

Gustave sort of yelps and laughs. "Lord in Heaven, you did not just do that? Did you learn nothing from your curse?"

Oh shit. Yeah. Oops. "It was ugly," I try to defend myself.

But yeah. I was kinda hasty. Maybe that's a good thing though. Let's show the curse that I haven't learned anything yet and I need to stay here forever.

"You're a fire hazard. You're a menace."

With the way his eyes seem to burn into me when he says that, I think he's the menace right now.

I want him.

This is as plain as my desires go.

I want him.

I've wanted him for a while.

And the sad truth, the one I don't want to admit out loud to Gustave is that I have no idea when I'll see him again. No idea if I'll ever see him again.

And I don't want to keep from doing something I want to do. Because I think there are more chances that I'll regret it if I don't.

If I disappear from here and never see Gustave again... never again...

My eyes kinda fill with tears.

"My heart, what's wrong?" Gustave asks me, coming closer, his hand cupping my cheek.

"I really love you, okay," I say and press my lips to his, taking him by surprise a bit.

It only takes him a second though, and then he's kissing me as fervently as I am.

Our kiss becomes something more, his hands grabbing at the fabric of my dress.

I want him closer. I want him to be mine.

Without even realizing it, I'm straddling him now, my hands in his hair, and his on my back.

I press my body closer to him, moving against him at the rhythm of my breath.

Gustave's lips part from mine, trailing down to my neck and throat. I pushed the fabric of my dress, trying to kiss more skin.

Pieces of clothing slowly start to be discarded.

We take our time, kissing and exploring, like we can't rush this because this might be our only time together and we don't want to forget any details.

He kisses the tattoo on my back, the one he saw the first time we met.

I wish there was more light so I could see all of him clearly, count the beauty marks on his skin, and analyse the tiny scars on his body from growing up an unruly kid in a rural town.

The moon and the stars and the fire cast light on his beauty, as he kisses me and touches me like he knows exactly what he's doing.

This makes me wonder...

I don't know if he's a virgin. He's been thinking about me for years, but he could have easily had flings in between the first and second time we saw each other. Or any time in between my visits. He could have a real girlfriend for all I know.

"What is it?" he asks softly.

He must have felt it, that I was in my head for a second.

"It's stupid really."

Why am I even making an issue out of this. I'm not a virgin either. I'm the one technically with a boyfriend back home.

I don't want to ever go back there though, so I really don't care about Jarvis.

"What?" Gustave asks, curiosity in his eyes.

"How many before me?" I finally ask.

He smiles down at me, brushing my hair away from my face. "That counted? None."

"And that didn't count?"

"Three," he admits. "But now, ask me the right question."

"What's the right question?"

"How many after me?"

"How many after me?" I ask.

"None," he tells me softly, and our lips meet again.

I've never loved anyone before him.

He's all I see and all I feel.

I wish we could stop time. I wished we had more than these fleeting moments. I wish we had permanence.

When I'm with him, I can almost believe that this is right where I'm supposed to be. Always.

Because he's mine and I'm his. In every way that it counts now.

"Heaven, I'm so tired," Gustave breathes, his arms still around me.

I look up at him with a smile. "Then sleep."

"Can't. What if you disappear?" he mumbles, but his eyes keep closing.

I'm grinning even more. "I won't don't worry. I'm not sleepy."

"I should have slept more yesterday instead of staying up almost all-night painting."

I brush a hand through his hair. "It's really fine Gustave. I'll be right here when you wake up."

"You promise?"

I kiss his forehead. "I promise."

He dozes off, slowly at first, like he's fighting it, and finally, he settles into a peaceful slumber, his breathing soft and steady.

I run my hand through his hair, and just stare at him, marveling at his beauty.

In the light of the fire, he doesn't look real. He looks like someone from a dream.

My earlier guess is wrong. It's not hell here with him. It's heaven.

When the sun is about to rise, Gustave begins to stir awake.

"You're still here," he says, his voice groggy from sleep.

"Of course. I promised you, didn't I?" I reply softly, kissing his lips.

He dozes off a little bit longer in my arms. I keep kissing any patch of skin in my lips' vicinity. That ends up waking him up, and he reciprocates and more.

I see stars rather than the sunrise.

This man has well and ruined me for anyone else after.

I'm in his arms now, my body on top of his, rocked by his breathing

"I still can't believe you burned your painting. I wanted to keep it," Gustave suddenly whines, and I chuckle, "I have nothing from you."

I press my lips against his chest where his heart is and kiss it, my eyes closed. I can feel his heart beat.

How can any of this be fake when it feels so real? It's not fake.

"You have my love and my heart," I tell him softly, looking back in his eyes.

"This face..." he whispers, his hands softly holding it, his thumbs brushing my skin. "I've painted so many, but I couldn't paint yours. It's the most vivid thing in my head yet, I don't thing it would never feel right. I couldn't do it justice."

"And I've clearly proved that I couldn't either."

He smiles at me. "I love you, Melody Orsay."

"Oh, I get to keep my last name even though we were sham married?"

"You see, I'm in love with a Melody Orsay, so you can keep that last name."

"How gracious of you."

"Melody, my Melody," he whispers.

"Gustave, my Gustave."

"Can't you take me with you? Do I need to start burning paintings easily like you?" he says, brushing his fingers against my temple, his eyes on my face.

"You're always with me. Right here," I tell him, pressing my hand to my heart.

We stay snuggled together like this for a little while longer and then get up, and eat plums for breakfast.

There are boats on the sea now, and the possibility of people passing by, so it's a little bit more dangerous to get caught in our cove.

Still, there's no one for now, so we end up going in the water. It's a little cold even though it's a warm summer day, so it's quite refreshing.

Gustave knows how to swim, so we play together, floating around, and Gustave makes a point to frequently catch me in his arms, taking any opportunity he gets to to have us close.

We run around the beach, and write silly messages in the sand. We skip rocks on the sea, and gather shells. We steal kisses in between Gustave trying to give me painting lessons.

I learn that Gustave is actually good at fishing, and we eat his catches.

I try not to let myself think about the fact that this could be our life in another world. In another universe. This could be how things always are.

We'd live in Paris and come on holidays here. And then head to his hometown to see his family.

Together. Always.

Happy. Always.

I never had anything life this before.

I feel a little sunburned and a little feverish. I feel wild and alive.

I've never been this happy in my real life.

But I've also never been this miserable either. Because I know this will end.

Because it's going to end soon.

We're back in our cove, on our blanket. We're almost out of food. And the afternoon is almost over.

I can feel myself on the verge of falling asleep. I didn't try to stay calm and not waste too much energy today. I've been running around and laughing and exerting myself all this while.

But I can't afford a nap.

The sun is about to set soon.

I feel like I'm going to fall asleep on my feet.

"I don't want us to fall asleep here and for you to wake up all alone," I mumbled, trying to get back up, but I sit down quickly after.

My legs are exhausted. I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone stay up-right.

"So what? You want to go drown yourself at sea?" Gustave is not as tired as I am, so he still had energy to joke.

"No. I just don't want to leave you all alone here. It'll break my heart when I wake up in the next painting."

"I came here alone. I was going to be alone anyway," he explains, but I don't like that logic.

"But you were staying at an inn. You should go back there," I try to convince him.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," he replies, leaving no room for arguing.

"I don't want to leave you," I admit softly.

And I'm also worried because it's getting dark and there's no street lights, or flashlights here. I don't want Gustave to be left all alone in the dark.

I'm sitting beside him, in his arms, tucked on his side.

I yawn. I almost doze off.

"You're not leaving me. You'll come back. You have to. You're my sham wife after all," Gustave reminds me.

"I am. And you're my sham husband."

He runs a hand through my hair, which does nothing in helping me stay awake. His touch is too soothing now. "I'll watch over you as you fall asleep. And I'll head back to the inn afterwards."

I don't answer for a little while. It's hard to talk. I just want to sleep. "I hate this."

"Me too. But this was more than I ever thought I would get."

"It felt like a honeymoon," I joke in a mumble in between two yawns. It almost feels like I just thought it, and didn't actually say it out loud with out tired I am.

"That's because it kind of was," are the last words I remember hearing as I fall asleep in the arms of my sham husband.