Felicite Found (13 page)

Every Girl’s Dream—
Maybe

A week later, while Félicité spent the morning with Madame Rose, the little woman shook her head and said, “You need some clothes of your own. Come on. Let’s get out of here, hit the town, and shop till we drop.”

“What?”

Regardless of Félicité’s serious objection to this shopping spree, she felt grateful to Madame Rose for distracting her from her problems.

“You ready for some shopping?”

Félicité expressed that she didn’t know anything about Madame Rose’s financial situation and would feel guilty spending her new friend’s money on herself.

“Don’t worry, my dear. I don’t tell many people this, but after my dear Charles’s death, he left me well taken care of. I would prefer to have him alive, but he didn’t leave me penniless. I just don’t live like it,” she whispered and nudged Félicité’s side. “It’s moments like these when I’m happy I can use my money for a good cause—a good person.”

As the day wore on, Félicité wasn’t aware of the fact that she was not only going to get the winter coat that was now keeping her toasty warm, but she was going to get a whole new wardrobe. All morning and into the afternoon was spent going from shop to shop buying, buying some more, and buying a lot more. All the while, Madame
Rose giggled to herself as though she was the world’s best angelic deviant.

“You cannot buy me anymore clothing. I beg you, no more.” They had already been to seven shops and had purchased several thousand Euros worth of expensive clothing.

“Okay, we’re done . . . with buying clothes.” She chuckled. “Now we need to buy you some proper shoes and . . . you could use a better brassiere.” Félicité recoiled, folding her arms across her chest. Apparently, the ace bandage wasn’t doing the trick. “It’s true though, my dear.” Madame
Rose glanced at the girl’s chest, shrugging.

“You are impossible!” But even though she wasn’t showing it, she was grateful for the “Late Christmas Present” which was what Madame Rose had named the shopping spree.

“I agreed we were done with buying clothing. I didn’t agree to shoes and brassieres.”

“You have to be the most insufferable little angel I have ever met. I appreciate your kindness, Madame Rose, but I must say no more.” Félicité stomped her foot and stood still.

“Just a couple more shops, please, for me,” Madame
Rose begged. “You won’t regret it. I assure you that you need some proper shoes for your new clothing. They won’t be complete without shoes.” Then she muttered, “And a few brassieres.” Her lips puckered, and her eyelashes fluttered at Félicité.

“I agree to your demands, little woman. I still do not know where I will put them, let alone any shoes. Hélène and Pierre’s flat is very small.”

“Oh, ye of little faith, we will figure something out. I have a terrific idea,
we can purchase an armoire. There’s plenty of room in their flat. Alright, there’s no room, but we can get rid of the couch, television, bed—everything.” She elbowed Félicité, put her arm around her, and pushed them on to the next shop.

They purchased four pairs of shoes that Madame Rose said would perfectly match all of the clothes they had bought. The clothing and shoes would be delivered to the flat the next morning. As for the bras, they took them home themselves. Mortified, Félicité toted all the multi-colored collection of them home—one for each day of the week. Although, she did like how they made
her look—perky as Madame
Rose put it. They had even bought seven pairs of underwear which were more needed than anything.

It was nearing three o’clock, so they rushed back before Pierre arrived home from school.

Madame Rose bounced up and down with a huge grin beaming on her face as if she had run a marathon and was first to cross the finish line. Félicité felt happy, too, almost as though the feeling were contagious.

They made it back to the flats with some groceries in hand for Madame Rose to make dinner for the four of them.

Félicité told Madame Rose goodbye for now, opened the flat’s door, kicked off her shoes, and sprawled out on the couch. Her eyes instantly fluttered shut even though she didn’t want to sleep for fear of whatever nightmares might creep into her dreams. But no dreams accosted her this time. Relaxation filled her mind and flooded throughout her body. 

Although, at the very edge of her thoughts, something drifted unseen: her identity waiting to be pulled from the mist of fog that kept her from remembering. Little by little, her memory would have slink out of the darkness. Félicité wished, but hoped it was a pleasant past, not horrific as she assumed it had been.

Hypnotized

Félicité held her chest—panting in and out—from being propelled at top speed through an underground maze called the metro.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Madame Rose shook her head. “It isn’t that bad, silly.”

Félicité shushed the old woman. “We are not going home on that. I refuse.”

“You
do
need to see a psychologist, don’t you? Need to get you back to normal, not scared of a
train
like a little ninny.”

“I will not take it again, little woman.” Félicité pumped her fist in the air.

“We shall see.”

They made it to the appointment with time to spare. With it having been four weeks now since Pierre saved her, it was time to take extreme measures to force her memory back, even if Félicité had apprehensions of that happening. 

After they had taken seats, it was a couple minutes later when a doctor called for her. Félicité stood, looking at Madame
Rose.
 

“Go on in, dear. I’ll wait here for you. I have a good book to read.” She withdrew a book from her purse that had a shabby cover and dog ears on almost every page; it appeared to have gone through a few wars.

“Hello, you must be Félicité?” the doctor asked with a cheery voice.              

“Um, yes.” She tugged at the sleeves of her pretty new coat.

“I’m Doctor Anouk Garnier.” She draped a loose fitting cream cardigan over her shoulders and then placed a pair of black-framed glasses atop her nose.

“Please, tell me what you have remembered thus far,” Doctor Garnier asked and placed her clipboard down, preparing to listen.

Félicité recounted what happened when she met Pierre and all of her dreams. The doctor listened, nodding every now and then.

“It seems like no one is looking for me. Perhaps, I am a nobody.” This was the first time she had admitted to herself that no one was searching for her. Félicité’s shoulders fell. She continued her vocal realizations, “It’s as if I never existed. How could this be, Doctor?”

“Perhaps, you are from a very small town. Maybe, you worked somewhere else other than Paris. I’m not sure, but my hope is that with time and our session today, we can find some answers for you.”

Doctor Garnier shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. “I’m interested in your dreams. It seems to me that your brain is trying to protect you from something related to your past. Something traumatic and very painful to deal with, so only little bits and pieces are coming back at a time. Perhaps, if all of your memories came back at once, it would be detrimental. I’m sure your memory will come back. It will take time, and to be honest, it may be a difficult process as you’re probably already aware.”

Félicité nodded. By now she
had
figured out that this, indeed, was not an easy process.

“But what about the terrible dreams about the girl . . .” She trailed off, not wanting to speak any further about these dreams; every time she thought about them, a chilled shiver snaked its way up her spine.

“They most likely are dreams that your mind is drawing up due to the stress of not remembering who you are. I would not worry much about them.” Félicité nodded as the doctor continued, directing the subject elsewhere, “But what I am interested in is the dreams about Anton; it seems he is the only significant person you have remembered anything about. I know it may be tough, but think about him, seriously think about him.”

Félicité stared out the window, biting her lip hard. This was one person she did not want to remember anything about.

“I was angry with him. I guess it’s obvious why.” She groaned, weary from the mental strain on her brain. “I feel as though the anger grew deeper and deeper. At one point, I know I hated him. But now, Doctor, I’m not mad.” Félicité narrowed her eyes at a point on the wall, forcing her mind to grasp anything that was relevant. “But . . . I do not hate him anymore. I think I have forgiven him.”

Doctor Garnier wrote something on her clipboard. “That’s great progress, Félicité. Now, I think we should try a different approach.” The doctor leaned in, holding her gaze on Félicité. “I’m trained in hypnosis.”

Félicité’s forehead scrunched together. “What is that?”

“It’s putting someone in a dream-like state, but they’re still awake. In a hypnotic state, a person’s subconscious comes to the surface allowing for needed information to be obtained.” Félicité was uncertain; a little scared, and honestly, didn’t quite understand. “You’ll be fine. It may help you to remember.”

“If you think it will help.” She attempted a smile but still could not shake her doubt. “How do we begin?”

Doctor Garnier placed the clipboard back on the desk and proceeded to tell her what would happen. “Lie down on the couch and shut your eyes as if you are falling asleep. Relax your body from the top of your head, down your arms to your fingers, throughout your stomach, and traveling down to the tips of your toes. Let your body go limp and heavy.” Félicité did as she was instructed, but the chaos of thoughts pounding in her head wouldn’t cease. She couldn’t get rid of the tense feeling in her belly.

“I’ll count to one-hundred and with each progressive number you’ll feel more and more relaxed, heavy as if in a bath of think honey. You’ll be unaware of your surroundings, allowing your mind to open up. Just listen to my voice. One, two, three . . .” Doctor Garnier’s voice was slow a methodical as she counted, calming. “. . . Eighteen, nineteen, twenty . . .” The numbers trailed off, not reaching one-hundred.

“Félicité, you are in a state of hypnosis now and will listen to my voice. Please think about Anton. Wrap your mind around him and tell me what you remember.”

Félicité lay in silence for a while, sinking into the honey-filled bath until it covered her entirely; warmth flooded her body all the way to the fibers of her bones. Her eyes began racing back and forth under her closed eyelids.

She spoke with a rush of words tumbling out of her mouth. “Since that da
y in the barn, he was never nice to me—that is if he had ever truly been kind to me. If we were ever alone, he would make little effort to talk to me but would find a way to make some contact with me. One time, he grabbed my hand and held it for a brief moment, almost bringing it to his lips but spat at in instead.” Félicité sighed deeply, her middle twisting and turning.

“Other times, he would slap or even hit me. And more often than not, he would either push me to the ground or throw me into the wall. He would always laugh when he taunted or abused me. And he was always careful to make sure no one was nearby so that his abuse was kept a secret.” She could feel a tear falling from her eye and down her cheek.

Félicité stopped speaking, sobs flowing from her closed eyes.

“I know this is difficult, Félicité. It will help, though. Please continue.” A distant, soft voice called out. Was it the doctor? Then her mind traveled on through the thick fog of thoughts.

“I kept the abuse to myself because I was afraid of what he might do to me if I told anyone. I felt helpless because there was no way for me to get out of the situation. I could not go back to my father
.
I was practically nobody so finding employment elsewhere was completely out of the question. I could die on the street, which was far more enticing than to stay, but I could never get the courage to leave. I had no other alternative but to stay.” Perspiration seeped from her skin and onto her clothing as she lay on the couch.

“I frequently found myself huddled in a private corner of the châteaux to cry. The same thoughts went through my head a thousand times. Why me? I could not have met him in the barn that night. He should not have placed me in such a situation.” Félicité paused, unable to speak.

“Go on, Félicité,” the woman’s voice urged.

“Claire had been concerned about me for so long, starting the day I had come back from the barn. I had followed Anton’s demand by saying I had fallen when I entered the barn. I already had a dreadful bruise forming on my cheek.” Félicité lifted her hand to the flesh of her face, caressing it delicately.

“Claire tried and tried to find out what was wrong, but I shut myself off and never let anyone in. I put on a façade of a happy girl, but Claire could see right through it. She once confronted me, saying, ‘I know something is wrong. Why will you not confide in me? You have not been my happy Félicité for so long. Please tell me.’ I made up another lie—another lie upon hundreds of lies. I would forever have to hold this pain in my chest until I died. At that point, I could finally be happy again.” Félicité moaned, not speaking anymore.

“Félicité, you can do this. What happened next?” The familiar voice said encouragingly.

“Claire left me with a huff, sniffling. She turned around and said, ‘I want my happy Félicité back!’ She dragged her feet up the stairs to do her work. I sat down on a stool and sobbed. But then, I heard someone descending the stairs. I wiped the tears away from my eyes and turned toward the steps.

“Anton’s eyes roamed up and down my body from the doorway with his usual demonic smile. ‘I am glad to see that you are still
lying
about our little situation,’ Anton said with a laugh. ‘Claire is a stupid woman to keep on pestering you. She deserves much better than you, anyway. You are worthless and always will be. I wanted to let you know the happy news, however.’ He walked to the door that led outside and locked it. Then he crept to my side and grabbed my waist turning me around so that my back was toward him.” Félicité gasped as though she were actually there, being held by a monster of a man.

“He held onto me, holding his right hand roughly over my lower stomach, and began discussing his wife who he had recently married. ‘My wife is pregnant.’ He added additional pressure to the point that it hurt. His left hand reached up to my neck and caressed it. I could feel his breath hot on my ear. He continued, ‘You know what, Félicité?’ He kissed my ear down to my neck and then turned my head toward him until his lips lingered on mine. I recoiled away, but he kissed me with greater urgency. When he ceased, his eyes pierced mine. I shuddered with fear. “My baby should have been yours.’ He pressed even harder, making me let out a loud scream. He pushed me across the room. My shoulder crashed into the table, making me gasp in pain.” Félicité’s eyes raced around fast for an escape.

“I looked toward the stairs because I heard someone opening the door to where we were. I stared back to where Anton had been only to see him rush away outside. His brother, Martin, had descended the stairs and rushed over to me.”

“‘Are you all right?’ Martin asked as he picked me up from my fallen position.”

“‘Yes,’ I lied again. ‘I just fell.’”

“‘Félicité, you must be the clumsiest person I have ever met.’ He laughed but then turned somber. ‘Please try to be more careful. I hate to see you with bruises and scratches. If you will excuse me, I must attend to some business. Will you be fine, Mademoiselle?’”

“‘Yes
,
and I will be more careful.’ He bowed and left the room. When I fell asleep that night, I dreamt of Anton beating me bloody. I woke up screaming. Claire ran into my room to see what was wrong. I was inconsolable for hours. She sat with me until I drifted off. Hours later, I woke up curled in her arms. She had fallen asleep with me as she had many times when I first arrived. I looked at her and smiled for the first time in over a year. I felt happy and lucky to at least have my Claire.”

A far distant voice broke into Félicité’s memory. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. For a moment, she struggled to understand it or what it was saying. “Félicité, this is Doctor Garnier. Are you okay?”

“Where am I? Where is Claire?” Félicité demanded as her eyes opened, blinking rapidly.

“Félicité,” the doctor said in a calming tone. “You’re in my office. I’ve just brought you out of hypnosis.”

Félicité glanced around the room to get her bearings straight. “In your office?”

“Yes, you’re just fine.” Doctor Garnier confirmed again, rubbing Félicité’s arm.

“I never told Claire the truth. I should have. She loved me, and she made me happy again, at least for that morning. But the happiness did not last. He hated me so much. He could never have me, so he became bitter just as I was bitter for having to take his abuse.”

“Félicité, what you remembered just now was difficult, and you need time to process it.” Doctor Garnier said as she handed her some tissues. “I wanted to keep you under longer, but you were convulsing. I couldn’t keep you under like that.”

Félicité felt the wood floors beneath her and brushed the sweat off her brow and onto her skirt. Doctor Garnier knelt on her knees by Félicité’s side.

“Put me under again, Doctor. I have to figure out more.” Félicité got up and lay on the couch again, closing her eyes.

“I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be good for you.” The doctor stood and took a seat on her chair again.

“All right.” Félicité shrugged. “Well, I think you have helped me today. I’ve remembered something. Not something good but at least it is something, right?”

“Yes, you’ve come a long way, Félicité. I know you will pull through this. Be brave and all will work out in the end. One day, this Anton will be caught, and justice will come to him through the right source: the police.” Doctor Garnier smiled. “I think this session has been mind-opening for you. If you feel you need to come back, please do. But I think you are on your way to remembering.”