a real courtesan, Parisian society would’ve shunned her, barely acknowledged her existence. She lived in what the French termed the demi-monde, the half-world, a place of darkness and pleasure, but one not fit to be seen during the light of day. She was lusted after, lavished with gifts, her entire life endless parties and sex, but she was dying of tuberculosis, though syphilis probably would’ve been more likely. She had the world at her feet, or the half-world, if we’re being specific, but she knew it was finite. She knew it couldn’t last.”
Alicia seemed taken aback, like she’d completely fallen under Julian’s spell as he wove the tale of Satine’s existence. “The poor woman.”
“You see what you’re feeling right now, hold on to it, don’t let it go. This is your connection to the character.”
“She must feel so alone.”
“She does. Alone but surrounded. Loved hopelessly, but loved nonetheless.”
“How do you know all this?” Alicia breathed.
“I read,” Julian answered vaguely. Of course, I knew there was more to it than that. In a way, he was a modern-day Satine. He knew it because he read, yes, but he also knew it because he lived it. I heard him stand and walk across the living room.
“Here,” he said.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a book I think you should read. La Dame Aux Camelias by Alexandre Dumas, fils.” I knew the title because it had sat for years amid our hodgepodge collection of dog-eared paperbacks. I’d never read it myself, but I knew it was one of Julian’s favourites.
“What’s it about?” Alicia asked.
“It’s about a courtesan quite like Satine, the young Marguerite Gautier, though the character is based on a real-life woman named Marie Duplessis. She was a courtesan and the author’s lover. The book tells the story of their affair. It’s where they took the story for the opera, La Traviata.”
“Oh,” she said. “I will. I’ll read it.” She sounded like she meant it.
“You can keep that copy. I have others,” said Julian causally, but I knew he was lying. That was his only copy, and he’d had it for years. It meant something to him, and I wasn’t sure if he should give it away so freely.
“Really? That’s so kind. Thank you,” she said, her voice still airy.
There was a quiet, and I thought Julian must have taken the book from her for a minute to flick through the pages, because the next thing he said was, “One of my favourite lines is in here.” A moment of silence passed. “Ah, I’ve found it. No matter how long I live, I shall live longer than you love me. Have you ever heard anything more heartbreaking in your life?” he asked wistfully.
I thought Alicia sounded like she might cry when she spoke. “Why? Why would you pick that as your favourite?”
“Because, my darling, I know how it feels. I know what it’s like to be constantly loved in a way that never lasts. And you, you know what it’s like to fear the end of adoration, just like Satine. If your career ever ends, where will that leave you?”
“It will leave me with a nicely padded bank account and a life of leisure,” she answered somewhat stiffly.
“Ah, but a healthy bank account is nothing if you have no one to share it with.”
“Julian, please.”
“I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to say. Come here, let me read you a passage.”
At this I couldn’t listen anymore. They were both being too raw, too open with each other, and it wasn’t my place to intrude. Even though I still didn’t entirely trust Alicia, they deserved this moment, whatever it was, to be their own.
The following morning, I woke up to find Julian asleep on the couch. He looked wrecked. Alicia was nowhere to be seen, so I knew she must’ve gone home sometime after I’d gone back to sleep. Julian blinked open his eyes as I crawled in beside him, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and held him close.
“Rose?” he said questioningly, his voice tired.
“I love you,” I whispered, and squeezed him tight. There was a second where he simply did nothing, but then he finally hugged me back, his entire body sinking into the comfort.
“I love you, too,” he whispered. “I love you, too.”
Twenty-Six.
*Rose*
The phone rang several times before the director answered curtly, “Yes?”
“Hi, Jacob, um, this is Rose Taylor.”
“What is it, Rose? I’m busy,” he snipped.
“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry for interrupting you, but I really need to talk to you about this