Peonies.

Dear Fleur.
•
She was upset of sorts. It had accumulated throughout the day and bottled up inside her chest. Too many short stories. Too little tea. Busyness. Having to do laundry. Wanting her bicycle to be fixed. And now this. This completely amazing man. And the words he wrote.
"I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days---three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain."
It was almost maddening.
So what did she do? She screamed in her pillow of course. And her two sisters never even paused their conversation a few feet from her. They didn't even look at her. They just let her scream. And suddenly it didn't matter anymore. Because they understood. And they didn't think she was crazy. She was just...her. Herself. And in that minute, she was mad that John Keats was dead.
But they were fine with that.
'Thank heavens for sisters,' she thought. And went to join their conversation about dresses.
•
Right this second I'm sitting on a hard chair wearing a little dress Ria made and a green shirt. There are some twigs in my hair. And I'm tempted to go make myself some chai tea. We're headed to the Church to do a little interview. Today is cold. And I think it tastes like plums picked straight off the tree. I've been working on a lovely little short story. It's actually upsetting me though. I can't decide which guy to choose. And they're both perfect in their own way. One literally is perfect actually. Maybe too perfect. But does she deserve someone who's not perfect?
I JUST DON'T KNOW.
The part I love the best so far:
A bathtub filled with peonies.
What girl wouldn't fall in love with that?
I guess I'll just have to play it by ear. Write it by ear really. Can you do that? Just wait for the story to figure out its own outcome? Maybe one of these minutes, in the quiet on the kitchen floor, his name will be whispered in my ear. And I'll know she's supposed to love him, and, well, not him.
Why did I make two boys?
I'm ridiculous. More screaming into my pillow is in order. But first, walking to the Church for an interview.
Love from Bella.

Pierre.

Dear Fleur.
I kind of want a French boy today. Maybe one named Pierre. Or some other delightful French name. You know, one of those names that makes your ears feel like someone is pouring paper hearts all over your face?
I like french names.
And I want a french boy today.
I already miss him.
And I don't even have him.
Crazy fille.That's the definition of me if you didn't know: "crazy petite fille."
I hope my French boy wouldn't mind loving me.
But maybe he'll be crazy too.

•(photo via LeLove)

I would never say that to my French man.

•

Love from Bella.

White.

Dear Fleur.
This morning I said my prayers, and I prayed for this boy.

He lives in Afrika now.
But he wrote me this the other day.
"if you are white, they love you."
And I'm not going to lie, I liked that. I wanted to say something like that. One day I think I will. On purpose.
(Too much Francis Carco&Brian Andreas in my head this morning.)
Love from Bella.

Blue in the face.

I apologize for the lack of blogging lately. I got busy. But, c'est la vie. And I'm here now.
•
I went off on a little third-person posting for a while there. I kind of like it. So don't go crazy on me if that sort of thing occasionally pops up here and there. Like right now...
•
Her eyes itched. She kept rubbing them. But she only had herself to thank for that. It was almost 12 o'clock after all.
She wore a big, knitted salmon coloured sweater. And a white feathered headband in her hair. And the words of Brain Andreas were all over her lips. She had fallen in love with him tonight. She was jealous of that man. It was the only way to explain it. He had what she wanted. Talent. And it made her heart envious & joyous all at once. She wanted to make people feel the way he made her feel.
She was getting more tired by the minute. She could always tell she was tired when she couldn't remember her French. And right now, she couldn't remember how to say "I like you." She needed to remember that. She was going to say it a lot tomorrow.
Because tomorrow was Valentines Day. She really liked Valentine's Day.
•
"I was waiting for the longest time, she said. I thought you forgot.

It is hard to forget, I said, when there is such an empty space when you are gone."
Brian Andreas
•
Tonight, I want to marry a boy from France. I wrote him a letter. But I don't know his name. I just call him "French boy." And I think I like it.
•
Love from Bella.

p.s. I am holding my breath for tomorrow.