35 - The Right Choice

                                    

                                          
M A R G O T – 2 0 2 4
THE steam, which rose from the pan in front of her, slightly tickled her face. Her laptop next to her played the seventh episode of 'The Mentalist' which she had put on right after breaking down in front of the apartment door.
Still, she had somehow found the strength to pick herself up from the floor and drag her aching, weak body towards the sofa. Her plans to grab groceries had gotten flushed down the drain right when her sister called to give her a snide lecture about Charles.
One of the familiar kind that Margot had shut down immediately.
It was over now.
There was no reason to make her life even more like hell on earth.
And for the first time in Valérie's life, the younger had kept quiet for hours, simply listening to her sister quietly sobbing in-between her words.
She twirled the wooden spatula through the pan to stir up the spinach that she cooked with some cream cheese and Gorgonzola as a sauce for the pasta boiling in a pot next to it.
Margot giggled weakly when Lisbon whined, "Oh god, Jane, why'd you do that?" Their dynamic on the show had always striked her as rather compelling. The writers really didn't give her much of a choice but to root for them from the start.
"Oh God, Margot, 'The Mentalist' again? Really?" Bennois chuckled when he followed his nose to enter the kitchen behind her. She hadn't even heard him come through the front door.
He put his bag down on the same bar stool Charles sat in. His eyes scanned the still full mug with cold coffee on the kitchen isle in front.
His eyebrows pulled into a frown.
"What happened?" he asked her and stepped next to her at the stove. Bennois studied her side profile intently. "Margot?"
She continued to stir the spinach. The soft mixture had already become somewhat even, but she couldn't quit the monotonous movements of her arm. Her mind barely grasped anything but the redundant processing of the same motion repeated over and over again.
His hand lay down on her lower back. "Hey, my dear. What's up?"
Margot shrugged and nibbled her bottom lip. The piercing sensation when her front teeth pulled a fine sheet of skin off it to reveal the fragile, rosy flesh beneath, she just hummed.
"Hey, hey!" he called out a tad louder and took the spatula from her hand before turning off the heat and pulling her to the side. Carefully, Bennois lifted up her chin to make her look at him. "What happened?" he asked with a firmer voice now.
She pressed her lips flat. The tiny droplets of blood were squeezed flat between them. "Charles was here," she croaked.
"What?" he gasped in disbelief and furrowed his brows even deeper. His forehead lay in wrinkles. "Why?"
"We talked," was all she could force to exhale from her tight chest. "And we said our goodbyes."
The moment the final word rolled off her lips, they started to tremble under the violent sobs erupting from within her body. She grabbed his upper arms to find the stability she needed to remain on her feet.
"Oh God, hey," he whispered and pulled her shaking body against his chest. "Margot, it's okay. I am here, it's fine. Let it out."
Her fingers dug into his shirt. She pulled lasting wrinkles into the fabric, which remained even when her grip loosened to give herself some more room to breathe. Nevertheless, Bennois held her close.
"C'mon-" He slowly guided her towards the living room. "-let's sit down, shall we?"
"I made dinner," she mumbled when he cautiously pressed her down to sit on the comfy sofa.
Bennois smiled. "I know, thank you. Let's eat together later, okay?"
His hands cupped her cheeks carefully. The slim streams of tears wetted his palms when his eyes locked on hers. "Do you want to talk about it?"