17 Me, Estrange

Balearic seaside, Summer 2020 France

I heard footsteps. The sound these feet produced was scarcely more than a rustle in the sand. I was not surprised that Tyrone found me. I heard his heart racing and the air changed as he approached. I knew he replayed the conversation we had over and over until he was sure what he meant. I felt his anxiety. Tyrone considered himself my protector. He knew who I was and was trying to protect me against the indiscretions of others.

We met during a mission in the mountains. And we had made a good team together then.

Now he irritated my nerves. I turned my head toward the horizon. I sighed. He squatted beside the water, his fingertips playing with the sand dust, drawing inconsistent lines. He examined me and turned his head to watch some late strollers, who were walking by and admiring the sunset. The shapes darkened one after the other and the sun tried in vain to send a final ray my way.

"Estrange?" The sand whirled without touching me, without blurring my gaze. I did not move. "It was just a joke," he murmured. "Well, I wanted to bring you back, rather—"

"I know. It was very funny." I said upset, and his smile disappeared.

"I should leave you alone. I annoy you, I think."

"Yes."

"I am awkward. I'm sorry. What is it?" Tyrone asked me without lowering the gaze.

What could I say? I could not entrust him with my distress. All my instincts told me I could not confide in him. The battle that raged in my mind did not concern him. I would not talk about those unusual sensations that had begun, painfully, to awaken that part of my anatomy called a heart which, so far, only served to keep me alive.

"I don't think you're interested." I said, looking at the horizon.

"What are you doing here then?" he continued on the subject, not giving up.

"Listen, Tyrone, I know you feel concerned about me, but I don't know," I admitted, annoyed by the sudden interest he showed, turning my gaze to follow a wave which crashed painfully on the beach, absorbed by the sand near his feet.

He grimaced and looked at me, slightly surprised by my animosity.

"What is the cause of this change in your attitude, eh? A woman?" he revolted.

"Of course not." I lied without thinking, smiling.

"I know." he said, nodding and looking at the sand.

"What do you think you know?" I growled, turning my head quickly and observing the emotional change visible on his face.

"I know I never saw you like this. I know that the person I'm talking to is not my friend Estrange whom I've known for twenty years. I know that there is something gnawing inside you and you don't know what to do."

He raised an eyebrow; his expression was so doubtful that I could not keep from laughing. A kind of silent laughter.

"Well! You are sure perceptive! Okay," I admitted. "Something like that."

He took his chin in his hands and continued. "I guess you already know everything I said. Don't let my comments hinder your assurance that you know how to handle yourself." His look had changed. It was that of an inquisitor before a charge. He looked at me reproachfully. I chuckled thinking about how he was before and how he was acting now. My Protector and my Inquisitor at the same time.

"I'm not used to see you helpless, Estrange," he growled.

"That, I believe." I admitted, trying to push back my thoughts, which were heading towards my past.

"At first," Tyrone said slowly, "I thought you needed my help. But I didn't dare propose it. I thought that if you needed it, you would ask me."

I always knew what he believed. And besides, I should have guessed that he would feel that. But right now, I was not able to analyze anything whatsoever.

"And now, after all these days here, you're still sitting, watching the sunset and sunrise. I believed that—"

"You thought I would change my mind."

"Yes." he said gloomily.

"I just went from there with some sense of urgency. Things escaped my control. I had no intention of... I did not think about…"

I winced painfully admitting my weakness.

"I guess you do not want to tell me what happened."

I surrounded my legs with my arms in a defensive position.

"I don't want to talk about it." I was too ashamed to show my vulnerability.

"I can help you solve your problems." Tyrone continued, ignoring my reluctance.

I burst into laughter, sad.

"Forget it, Tyrone. Please!"

He paused again and I knew him well enough to know that he continued to speculate. I ignored him and tried in vain to see the stars. The sun had set long ago.

He would eventually give up.

"What will you do then?" his voice showed doubt.

"I have not really decided."

"Where will you go, Estrange, if you leave? To Guiana?"

"I don't think so." I sighed.

Where shall I go?

Around the world, I knew of no place that attracted me even slightly. There was nothing that I wanted to see or do. I did not want to go somewhere particular. All I wanted was to do was escape. I hated it. When did I become such a coward? Tyrone crouched in front of me, put his arms around my shoulders and clenched. I did not reject him, but I had no use for the comfort.

"See you, Estrange!" he articulated, while pronouncing each word aloud.

"Goodbye, Tyrone," I muttered and as I spoke, I could see it.

I could finally see me leaving!

But what if she did not want me to?

My mouth twisted in grief. I did not want to hurt her; I felt I wasn't behaving properly with her. I gave myself more time to contemplate the sky and see the face that haunted my mind. The twinkling lights of the stars formed a fascinating and strange pair of eyes that sent back my gaze. They had probably wondered what my reappearance in their lives would mean. Of course, I could not really be certain, it was only my imagination, but Alma's eyes continued to ask me questions.

With a heavy sigh, I gave up and got up.