Obsession

            by Anna McDowell

 

Foaming green waves crashed against the rocks as Jacques hurried to pull his kayak onto the shore. He tugged once and lost grip, letting his kayak fall back into the quickly rising tide.

“Merde,” he said through clenched teeth, grabbing once more at the handle to his boat. He tugged again, finally pulling the kayak up and out of the water and onto the dry sand. He lay panting on the shore for a minute, embarrassed that he had been so close to giving up, had almost let go and watched the kayak float off into churning Atlantic.

***

Her scarlet summer dress accentuated the pallor of her skin and the darkness of her smooth hair. Jacques stared into her pale blue eyes as she uncomfortably smiled at him, her lips awkwardly sounding out,

“Vous voudriez quelque chose?”  Jacques smiled at her self-conscious attempt at French. She really wasn’t all that bad at it.

“I’d like a coffee please,” he responded with a strong French accent. He sucked in deeply on his Marlboro, the American cigarette, continuing to stare as she made his espresso.

Although he still held himself awkwardly, a bit of a hunch in his long and skinny back, Jacques had begun to grow into a man. His face had become more angular and his skin tightened over these newly formed bones. He had grown to over six feet.

“What is your name?” He asked her as she carefully cleared his empty café from the bar table.

 “I’m Lola.”

“It’s a pleasure to have seen you here, Lolie,” he said. She smiled, her pink freckled cheekbones even more defined by her innocent grin.

            “It’s Lola,” she repeated, “Lllloooolllaaa.” Jacque’s olive skin grew warm and red.

“Very sorry…my English…not perfect.”

Jacque’s usual monotonous routine after work at the Kayak Club quickly became much less boring. Each day, after hauling his heavy kayak onto shore and back up the hill to town, he would stop to visit Lola. Jacques shook the sand from his yellow espadrilles before he stepped through the bar door. The owner of the bar, a man named Thierry with shiny red cheeks and a plump belly, waved to Jacques as he entered. “Salut Jacques!” He’d bellow, his tar-stained lungs causing his voice to be both scratchy and nearly inaudible. And each day, after Thierry’s affectionate greeting, she was there. Today she stood at the bar table, counting the beer coasters and neatly placing them in a pile. Her hair was pulled back, tucked gently behind each ear. Jacques lit a cigarette and sat down to watch her. She had just finished counting and sat down to smoke one of her own. Jacques sucked in as Lola blew a cloud of twisting smoke into the air. Jacques blew smoke out and watched as it intertwined with Lola’s. He smiled. As Lola got up to return to work Jacques followed her.

            “Lola!” He half-yelled, catching his breath as he hurriedly crossed the room to follow her. She rapidly twisted around to look at him.

“What is it Jacques?” He had nothing to say, only wished that she would continue smoking at the bar table so he could watch.

            “…I…I need a coffee,” he sputtered. He stared into her eyes, unblinking before she turned to the espresso machine to make him a cup. The painful silence was interrupted as Lola began to speak.

            “You come here every night…don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked him.

            “Not really, no. It’s summer,” he shrugged his shoulders. “And I like it here…with you.” He expected her to smile, but she frowned. As he left to go back home, he dropped a tip on the table with his right hand. In his left was the cigarette Lola had smoked from the ashtray on the table.

***

            Jacque’s hands were in his pockets as he strolled through the market alone. He whistled as he inspected an old record player that was for sale. The salty air blew in soft gusts through his brown wispy hair. Samuel sold cheese for a bargain, and its pungent, warm scent drifted through the crowds of people, mostly tourists visiting this quaint little seaside town. Jacques held a slice of Cantal up to his lips and nearly took a bite when a flash of flowing scarlet cotton caught his attention.  His eyes started at her feet, slowly moving up her body  as the cheese between his fingers slowly melted and bent in his hands. But his fixed gaze was abruptly halted as he realized she was holding someone else’s hand. His eyes darted from this handclasp, her soft pale hands enveloped in the strong bronze hands of another, up to her face. Lola was smiling, a mature and stylish grin, one to impress the man whose hand she held. Jacques grimaced and felt around his pockets for his lighter dropping his small wedge of cheese to the ground.

Lola squeezed the man’s hand a little tighter her palms beginning to sweat. Jacques continued to stare through the hanging linen sheets that roofed most of the market stands. He shook as he sucked on his cigarette, the nicotine polluting but temporarily easing the jealousy that he felt. She looked into Jacque’s eyes for a moment and then just as quickly looked away. He could not help but stare at her, eat her, gobble her up with his eyes. She tried desperately not to look back and stared down at the piles of used books she would never read.

“I’m sorry,” Jacques said after finishing his second coffee of the night.

“For what?” Lola asked. He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her.

“For looking at you at the market.” Lola smiled, but her forehead was wrinkled with discomfort and concern.

“Don’t be silly Jacques. There isn’t a law against looking at people.”

            “Will you come out with me some time?” he asked. She turned around again to face him, a wet beer glass in one hand and a rag in the other. She hated to disappoint anyone.

“I suppose sometime…just as friends. I have a boyfriend Jacques.”

“Of course, Lola. Just as friends.” Jacques laughed and flicked a piece of dirt on the table.

“Do you like to go for a ride?”

“What kind of ride?”

“On my moped. I will take you on a ride for our date.” 

“It’s not a date Jacques. I have a boyfriend,” she repeated.

“Yes, yes, I know. When we go out.” Lola ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing out any tangles that had formed there during the day. Jacques’s mouth opened a little as he watched her do this.

“Tomorrow evening. It is good for you?” Jacques inquired, his English beginning to falter.

“Sure. I guess I’ll be here so…ya. You can just pick me up or something.”

“Great. This is really great. I see you tomorrow Lola!” He leaned over to give her a customary kiss on the cheek but she pulled away. He was already outside when she turned around to apologize. His scooter grumbled as he started up and drove away down the sandy road. She exhaled, relieved to be free of Jacque’s bothersome presence.

***

In Jacque’s shoulder bag was a red rose, the color of Lola’s dress in the summer, the color of Lola’s neatly painted fingernails. Jacques had carefully removed every thorn to be sure that Lola not prick herself. He rubbed some greasy pomade in his hands and then into his hair, slicking it down flat and shiny. The tube was his father’s, probably older than he was. It smelled of pine and old oil. Jacques smiled at his reflection. His hands shook a little, but only because he was thrilled to be going out with Lola. He was a kid going to see the circus for the first time, a kid on the night before Christmas; so excited he might explode.

He sat at the bar table staring down at his watch. Lola was not working tonight. Thierry said she hadn’t called in sick, just hadn’t shown up. Jacques could feel his bubble of excitement deflate, shrivel, and implode on itself. He wanted to cry. Wanted to vomit. He ran to the toilets and sat down. He tore his rose into many pieces and watched as each tiny shred of red petal was flushed away.

“Why weren’t you there last night?” Jacques asked Lola the next day at the café.

“Why wasn’t I where?” A look of confusion muddled her face. His voice began to shake as he replied and he had to clench down hard to keep his lip from quivering.

            “We had a date…remember?” He looked into Lola’s eyes.

            “Oh shit! I totally forgot, Jacques. I’m sorry, I completely spaced. Another time maybe?” That was all, Lola had only forgotten. He could live with that. Relief spread through his body and his pulse slowed down. He sighed.

            “Yes. Let’s go out another time then. When are you free, Lola?” Lola gazed over Jacque’s shoulders into the windowpane that looked over the dark street outside. Her blue eyes traveled left and right as if scanning the windowpane for a smudge of dirt.

            “You know…I’ve been very busy, Jacques. I’m not really free any time soon. Maybe later? You know, when work slows down?” Jacques nodded, tossed on his jacket and left without attempting to kiss Lola goodbye.

            Waking up the next morning was particularly unpleasant. Rays of sunlight stung Jacque’s eyelids and caused thousands of beads of sweat to form on his brow. His sleep was more exhausting than replenishing. Images of Lola tormented him and when he woke up his bed was in a twisted mess, sheets suffocating him, pillows thrown to the floor. His head throbbed and his throat was parched, like he had swallowed gravel. He had to stop this worrying; this uncontrollable obsessing over Lola’s busy schedule. Lola was his friend. She would be free in the future, and then they would go for a ride down the hill to the beach. Together they would walk in the warm, comforting sand with their espadrilles in one hand.

Jacques pulled on a burgundy t-shirt and splashed cold water on his face to remove the sweat that had begun to drip down his temples. On his way to the Kayak Club he grabbed a banana and lit up a cigarette. The usually cool morning air was humid and sticky, not at all refreshing. His dry feet sweated in his shoes and the back of his neck was scorching hot as he walked down the winding town hill. His co-worker was not yet at the Kayak Club so he fished for the key in his swimming shorts pocket and unlocked the club’s door. Today he would go for a ride, He would forget for a moment about Lola, and float over the salty blue waters that shone on a day like today.

The tide was out and it took Jacques a while to get past the many boulders that would be covered in a wave of salty water as soon as the tide came back in. He finally reached the water and began to paddle out, the smooth and rhythmic churning beneath him causing him to continue to think of Lola. Try as hard as he could, he could not remove her from his thoughts. Each paddle towards another crashing wave a new image of Lola formed, brighter, closer, and more exciting than the last. The tide had begun to come in and as he struggled to paddle further out he was forcefully pushed back. His preoccupied brooding was brusquely interrupted by a faint yell. He sat up straight in his boat, momentarily giving up his battle against the growing tide. He paddled in the direction of the soft cries. Slowly, as he got closer to this drowning victim the cries became audible words.

“Aidez-moi!…HELP!!”

Jacques stopped paddling for a moment, worry beginning to churn inside as the ocean foamed and churned beneath him. Only fifteen feet away was Lola. Her shiny black hair was wet and tangled covering most of her face. Her hands floundered about, waving in circles to keep her afloat. She seemed stuck against a rock, possibly pinched between two by the leg. Jacques remembered being stuck between two rocks as a kid. His father had dove down to tug his leg free.

Jacques tied the rope of his boat around one ankle and quickly dove into the rising waves that encircled his kayak.

“Lola!” he yelled once. She did not hear him and continued to fight to stay above water. Jacques swam faster, the fantasy of his triumphant achievement giving him strength.

He reached Lola and grabbed her tiny pale arm. Her struggling came to a halt as she yelled with relief.

“Oh merci! Merci monsieur!” She could not see through the layers of wet hair that covered her eyes. Jacques dove down, grabbed at Lola’s leg with one arm and at the huge rock that had pinned it down with his other. He pushed hard and the rock slowly rolled away, freeing Lola’s leg. He swam up for air. There she was, hair pulled back from her face. Water had smudged the mascara she usually wore and made dark circles around her huge eyes. Jacques grabbed her, pulled her close. Lola held him back.

“Thank you Jacques.”  Jacques looked into Lola’s frightened eyes; he seized her chin in one hand and tilted forward to steal a kiss, grabbing his kayak for leverage. Lola’s body was exhausted from her struggle to keep from sinking but she jerked away. Jacques gripped her body with one hand and pulled her back, frustration and desperation beginning to take hold. He had to kiss her. It was payment for his triumphant feat, and how could she forget?

“No!” she yelled. “I won’t! Jacques, please, stop!”

“But Lola…I love you!” Jacques bellowed, “I love you! C’est vrai. Je t’aime! I have since I first saw you here…please!” He grabbed her again, this time more violently than he had intended and pulled her closer to him. She pushed him, dug her nails into his chest and attempted to dive under water to swim away. Jacques held her tighter, her head now completely submerged in result of her failed attempt to swim away. Jacques continued to cry,

“Je t’aime! Je t’adore!”  He squeezed her, enveloped her tightly. Tears began to form in his eyes as waves fiercely crashed overhead.

“Please Lola, please,” he whispered. Lola’s pale face floated ever so slowly to the surface, its color beginning to fade. Jacques wiped his eyes and smiled, leaning in to finally steal a kiss. At first, her muscles became tense, attempting one last time to pull away. But they gradually relaxed, too weak to pull back any longer. Jacques kissed Lola’s cold lips; thrilled that she had finally surrendered.