From: Leo Chorro
12/23/2018 at 5:45 p.m.
To: Cora Tuffin
Subject: Questions
Cora,
If you had to ask someone you just met three questions to figure out who he is, what would they be?
From: Cora Tuffin
12/23/2018 at 6:15 p.m.
To: Leo Chorro
Subject: RE: Questions
1) If he likes dogs and especially which ones.
2) His favourite chocolate.
3) Marvel or DC.
From: Leo Chorro
12/23/2018 at 6:33 p.m.
To: Cora Tuffin
Subject: Answers
1) Yes, Golden Retrievers, Bernese Mountain Dogs or Labradors.
2) White.
3) I love Spider-Man but Batman has the Batmobile… DC comics then.
From: Cora
12/23/2018 at 6:33 p.m.
To: Leo Chorro
Subject: Balance sheet
You started so well with dogs (although I am sure you put in Labrador to make me happy…). White chocolate isn’t real chocolate! If you had answered milk chocolate, I would have tolerated it. And let yourself be influenced by a fast car… You really are a guy! Well, I'll say I forgive you because DC is also my favourite.
I get out of my car and take the path that connects the parking lot to the Verne Estate stables. I admire the landscape that surrounds me. Even with winter stripping the vines of all their leaves, the place looks like a postcard. The air is mild for the season. The sun’s rays, thanks to a cloudless sky, pleasantly caress my skin.
I approach the stalls and I can make out the lanky figure of Lino, the groom. When he sees me, he shows a big smile on his face weathered from years of working outdoors.
“Hello, Miss Cora!”
“Hello, Lino, is Madelyn already here?”
“Yes, she's with Odon. I have prepared Safia for you, I feel she’s in the mood for a little walk today.”
I’m delighted with this news, Safia is my favourite mare. With her pretty chocolate coat and her big expressive black eyes, she makes me smile. She’s very calm but also loves it when I push her a bit at a gallop. I suspect Lino is aware of my little weakness for her. He prepares her for me whenever he’s informed of my coming.
I find my best friend on the other side of the stable. She’s adjusting her saddle on the back of Odon, a beautiful bay thoroughbred. Even though we've known each other from the sandbox, it's our love of horses that has made us inseparable friends. Dozens of Wednesday afternoons spent riding at the village horse club, which is only a few kilometres from here, have only brought us closer together. As a teenager, as we competed, and although often in competition, we couldn’t leave each other. We were driven by the same passion and we felt that no one could understand us except us. When a few years ago my life took an unexpected turn, I wasn’t surprised to find Madelyn by my side, and horseback riding was my therapy.
“Hey! There you are!” she exclaims.
We exchange a kiss and I announce:
“I'm going to see Safia.”
“OK, I'll be there in a minute to give you a hand.”
I leave Odon's stall to find the pretty brunette waiting for me in the one next door. When she sees me, she makes a muffled welcome call. I run my palm over her side, her silky hair tickles my hand.
“Hi, beauty.”
Another grunt from her. You could almost think we were having a conversation.
I see that she’s already ready to go. I almost want to blame Lino and Madi for having done all the work for me, but I'm so impatient to go upstairs that I won't dwell on this point. So, when my friend comes to help me take Safia out of the stall, I keep quiet. I climb onto the horse's back and she snorts, implicitly telling me that she hopes we’ll be leaving soon. Madelyn leaves us to go get her horse and I take this opportunity to whisper a few words to my mare and make her wait.
When Odon and his rider are ready, I make Safia understand that she can finally take the path that crosses the property. We walk through the hectares of vines which rest after having produced thousands of bunches that will give in a few months or years the wines which make the reputation of the domain. In the distance, I see Jameson, my friend's fiancé and owner of the place, in the company of an older man whom I identify as being the cellar master. Both wave to us to which we respond. Madelyn much more enthusiastically than me.
“Do you think you'll be able to survive two hours without seeing him?” I laughed.
“Stop it! We don’t spend all our time together,” she replies, huffing.
“You live together, you work together, you do almost everything together.”
“That's not true! I do a lot of stuff with you, too. The proof, aren't we both here?”
“You’re right. But you know I love to tease you about it. And I hope Jas will still be willing to lend you out every once in a while after the wedding.”
“I suddenly feel like a common toy you have to share,” she complains.
“Not a common toy! A great toy like the kind you don't like to lend,” I corrected, winking at her.
She sighs.
“Cora… Just because I’m going to get married in a few months doesn’t mean we’re going to stop seeing each other. My life will be the same afterwards. The only thing that will change is my marital status.”
“Oh, my God!” I exclaim, bringing my free hand to my heart. “I hadn't even noticed that you were going to take his name! How could I not think of that? My girlfriend is going to have a name that is impossible to fit into an administration form!”
Madelyn gives me a dark look.
“What's his full surname again?” I ask, and I know the answer.
"Dubois de l'Argens et de Castellet," she sighs.
“Madelyn de l'Argens et de Castellet… It sounds good, I think. If we had imagined this as kids! That you were going to marry an actual nobleman and live in a castle!”
“I don't live in a castle!”
“Excuse me, but your shack is still a bit of a castle with its tower and its thousands of square meters.”
“Which includes function rooms, a shop, offices...”
“Your man is a knight,” I argue just to annoy her.
“From the Bacchic brotherhood of wine lovers! And for the record, nobility hasn’t existed since 1870!”
“I see you’re well informed on the subject. Admit that you were a little disappointed to find out that you weren't going to be a princess.”
“You’re infuriating,” she breathes.
“But you love me like that,” I replied.
“I wouldn't be so sure if I were you.”
Her smile contradicts her words.
“Anyway, if I still have the right to visit the Countess after the wedding, I’ll be infinitely grateful. You will excuse me if I don’t curtsy.”
“Cora…” she groans.
“Yes, dear?” I say in a grandiose tone.
“Are you going to stop this little game?”
She looks more serious all of a sudden. I then ask:
“Which one?”
“The one where you allude to the fact that my marriage means the end of our friendship.”
"I don’t do that," I said as if it were the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.
“You do, and you are fully aware of it.”
She’s right, I may have made a couple of references in the last couple of weeks...
“Okay. I have to admit that I enjoyed trying to make you feel guilty about it. I have the right to torture you a bit, right?”
She gives me a sceptical look.
“I’m repeating myself, but this isn’t going to change anything. I’ll always be here for you."
"I know that."
I try to be as sincere as I can in my answer. But I’m aware that deep down I’m lying. Of course, I’m not stupid enough to believe that by the time she becomes a married woman, our friendship will end. It will be a longer process, which will take months or even years. Our relationship will gradually fade away, like a dying fire.
Until now, we have been advancing on the same path side by side, as we are today on the backs of our horses. Our experiences were similar, we lived our childhood, our adolescence and the beginning of our adult life almost at the same pace. The games, horseback riding, our first feelings of love, our studies... But at some time, the road will separate and we’ll each take a path. Madelyn is going to build a family. One day she’ll have children, responsibilities, worries. And I’ll be alone on my side. The truth is, ever since my best friend told me about her marriage, I couldn't be happier for her. But unfortunately, her happiness is a kind which I will never have.
“I find that quite paradoxical of you,” she said.
I have no idea what she’s getting at. So I turn my head in her direction as she continues:
“You’re the most independent girl I know, you refuse anyone's help most of the time. And now I feel like you’re freaking out that I’ll leave you alone.”
I chuckle.
“You're completely wrong. Admit that you'd be a little disappointed if I acted like seeing you go didn't affect me. I have to put on a bit of a show.”
She looks at me without saying anything. I don't feel she's convinced. I can't blame her, she knows me so well that she must have guessed that I'm not 100% honest. But eventually, she lets it go, and we continue our walk in silence for a while.
I take my cell phone out of my jacket, just to take a look at my notifications. No new messages. I try to convince myself that I’m not disappointed.
“What are you still doing with your phone?”
“Nothing, nothing. I was just checking something.”
My vague answer only arouses her curiosity.
“I’m pretty sure you’re not expecting any messages for work since you told me you took the week off. So it's personal?”
“Not at all. It's nerves, a habit. I check my phone all day normally. My brain hasn't quite understood that I'm on vacation.”
I don't like her look, it's the one that says she's not fooled. She narrows her eyes before asking:
“You’re lying. You’re waiting for a message. Oh!” she exclaims. “You met someone!”
“How could I have met someone when I hardly left my house? The only people I meet these last days are my physiotherapist, my grocery delivery guy, you and your boyfriend; and the rest of them are all family,” I chuckle.
“You could very well talk with someone from the dating site where I created a profile for you.”
“I deleted it,” I said in a gloomy voice.
“Why?” she’s indignant.
“You know very well why.”
The silence that follows tells me that she’s looking for arguments to continue this discussion. We’ve already had this debate and I have no desire to resume it.
“Tell you what, shall we give these two clowns a little gallop?” I ask to change the subject.
I know Madelyn, she never refuses a race. She nods and off we go on our mounts. Intoxicated by the speed, I forget everything for a few minutes. That's why I love horse riding. In those moments, I feel free, I’m the Cora of yesteryear: carefree and happy. I can't say I'm miserable the rest of the time, but sometimes I miss this little thing that makes me feel whole. And when I’m on the back of a horse I become one with it. Its power becomes mine, I am invincible.
It wasn't until we stopped our mad race, which I obviously won, that I think back to what made me pull out my phone in the first place.
I admit it, I'm a bit of a tech addict. Maybe it’s somewhat conditioned by my profession, or maybe it's just an evil of my generation? But for the past few days, my addiction has been driven by a very bizarre activity: exchanging e-mails with a stranger. In truth, he's not that unknown anymore, I learn a little more about him every day, but I certainly have a lot of things left to discover. And I want to know more.
So, maybe it's because I have no idea what he looks like—I even wondered if he would have spoken to me if we had met at a mutual friend’s house for example—but I feel that a bond was very quickly woven between us. With each message exchanged, the feeling of chatting with someone I know well, like a friend, grows. We haven't shared anything very deep, but talking to him I don't feel this restraint that I can have with other people. Perhaps it’s precisely because we’ll never meet that some of my barriers seem to disappear. He’ll never be able to judge me, except by what I tell him.
We’ve only been corresponding for a few days, but I’ve come to look forward to seeing his name appear in my inbox. So far, he's always initiated our conversations, and I don't feel like doing it. And then to tell him what? Hi, how are you? I feel like his life is a lot busier than mine, and he certainly doesn't need a stranger to flood him with messages. We talked the first time following the misunderstanding about Leona's email address. I'm not sure how it happened anymore, but we got to chatting about organizing bachelorette parties. And one thing leading to another, we tackled several topics that had nothing to do with all of this: our daily life, our jobs, our families, our friends. Our lives seem to be the opposite of each other, and yet we continue to write. It's fun to talk to someone I certainly would never have met in my day to day life. Plus, I feel like there’s no judgment, either way. And I think that's what I like. And since, surely, our paths will never cross, I guess that uninhibited us. At least, for my part. And if one day he says something to me that I don’t like, all I have to do is cut off communication. In the meantime, not a day has gone by that we haven't spoken. Will this continue? No idea. If it turns out, overnight, I’ll never hear from him again, and in a few weeks, he'll have forgotten my existence, as I have his: We’ll resume the course of our lives and we will certainly close this moment.