Paris - Chapter Eight
Flashback continues May 1998 – September 1998
After their success in Europe, *Nsync was ready to
return home and conquer America. They arrived
triumphantly home to the sound of crickets throughout
the airport and their parents picking them up in the
parking lot.
Throughout the trip, JC had written countless letters
to Annie. Every single one had been promptly sent
back, unopened and marked "Return to Sender". Lance
had been patient and faithfully at JC’s side through
the whole ordeal, but even polite Southern gentlemen
have their limits. Eventually, he could remain silent
no longer. "JC, don’t you think it’s time to quit
being hung up on Annie? She keeps sending back your
letters and it’s pretty obvious she does it without
even looking at them." Lance took a deep breath. "I
don’t know that happened and I don’t mean to pry, but
I think it’s pretty hopeless." He paused for a moment,
then continued. "JC, what did happen?" A very
embarrassed look then came over his face. "That is, if
you don’t mind me asking."
"No, it’s okay." JC sighed. "I’ll tell you everything
that I know for sure." And he did, filling in
everything he could remember.
Lance stood awestruck as he listened, unable to
believe what his friend was saying. "This wasn’t the
JC he knew, that JC would never do anything like that.
After his friend finished his story, Lance was at a
loss for words. "Are you sure?" He asked quietly.
"I guess" JC sighed. "Even I’m starting to believe it
happened that way. Annie certainly did, so did Claude.
I’ve tried over and over again to talk to her, but it
seems so useless." He bowed his head, closing his
eyes. "Maybe it is time I just put it behind me and
move on like you said."
Lance put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. "I’m
sorry."
JC opened his eyes. "Lance, do me a favor."
"Sure. What do you need?"
"Please don’t mention this to the rest of the guys."
He looked pleadingly into his friend’s face. "Okay?"
Lance nodded once. "Promise."
JC let out the breath he didn’t realize he’s been
holding. "Thanks."
Meanwhile Annie was still trying to cope. She ended up
staying with Claude for several weeks before finally
building up enough courage to go back to her flat.
Both Claude and Jacques had given much love and
support, but were baffled by what had transpired.
Claude especially felt that something was very wrong,
yet couldn’t come to a reasonable explanation.
Something to do with those bothersome pictures, but
Annie refused to talk about them. Instead, she spent
hours on the phone with her mother and father. Of
course, they were a great comfort to her, but there is
only so much one can do to console over a phone line.
They were at a loss about what to do as was their
daughter.
As Annie walked down the hallway towards her
apartment, she tried to steady herself. She would be
passing right by Babette’s door before reaching her
own. Fortunately, she made it past without incident,
breathing a sigh of relief as she entered her home.
There, she saw that Jacques had cleaned up the
destruction in her studio. Not to mention he also had
made sure to feed Rosemarie, stocked her fridge and
left some flowers in a jar on the table. Unbeknownst
to Annie, he’d also taken the liberty of hiding the
small picture of JC she had painted, the only one to
escape her wrath since it had been dropped in the
living room, in a box in the closet.
She sighed and picked up Rosemarie, who responded with
a meow of protest. Having been left alone for so long
with no real petting had gotten the cat seriously
miffed. Annie hugged her by way of apology and went to
sit by the window. She remained there for hours,
stroking Rosemarie and thinking. Eventually, she came
to the conclusion that life was too short to spend
wallowing self-pity.
An important decision was made that day. Annie decided
to contact the gentleman who had left his card at
Basille’s studio, the American who wanted her to
return to America with him and help him in his
business.
His name was John Evans, an ex-CIA man who now made
prosthetic appliances for people who had become
disfigured by illness, accidents or burns. John had
complimented her work, saying that her art reflected a
special "eye" for seeing people as they really were.
Annie had accepted his compliment, then realized the
truth behind his words. By doing this, she could
actually do something worthwhile with her art, instead
of just making the world a prettier place to look at.
She could give people back their lives, their hope,
dignity.
Annie called everyone to let them know. Claude thought
it was a marvelous opportunity, saying this seemed to
be her calling, a life’s mission. Naturally, her
parents were doubly thrilled. This meant she’d be
coming home at last!
No sooner had she hung up the phone; Annie heard a
knock at her door. Yet when she opened the door, no
one was there but there was a photo. The woman felt
her face flush slightly with anger. Babette! How dare
she do this! After all-, Annie cut herself off,
sensing that this reaction was probably exactly, what
Babette wanted to happen. She picked up the picture
and placed it in a box by the door without looking at
it. Sitting down at her desk, she started making a
list of things to take back with her to America.
Anything not on the list would be left behind. Not
long into this activity, another knock at the door.
Opening it, she was somehow not surprised to see
another photo on the floor. It befell the same fate as
the first; into the box without so much as a glance to
acknowledge it.
At this point, Annie suddenly realized that she hadn’t
had anything to eat since breakfast. The kitchen was
her next stop as she descended on it and made herself
dinner. While she was eating, yet another knock
resounded on the door. Annie ran to it, flinging it
open just as Babette was starting to scurry away.
"Babette" Annie called harshly, stopping the woman
dead in her tracks. The woman slowly turned back to
face her, looking more undone than she had ever
before. "What is the meaning of this, Babette?"
Babette’s eyes were glazed, seemingly unable to focus
and flitting from object to object like a hummingbird
on crack. Somehow, they managed to connect with
Annie’s for a brief moment.
"He’s gone." She whispered, her voice cracking. "He’s
never coming back." She trailed off as tears began to
fall from her eyes. "Why did he leave me?"
"Who left you?"
A sob racked her frame. "Jake."
Annie felt a moment of strange relief, but about what?
"Babette, Jake’s in prison." She lowered her voice,
trying to remind her. "Don’t you remember? He hurt
you."
Babette sank to the floor, crying quietly. She curled
up, hugging her knees and whimpering as the tears
coursed down. Every now and then, the words "he’s
gone" could be made out between sobs.
Annie helped the woman up, leading her to her flat.
The apartment itself was in such shambles one could
hardly walk around. The carpet, which was supposed to
be shag, crunched with every step. Looking at it, one
could see why; it was thoroughly encrusted with food
stains from unknown periods of time. The whole place
looked as if Babette hadn’t thrown anything away for
years. Dirty clothes, garbage and piles of old food in
various stages of decay littered every available
space.
Somehow Annie managed to clear a space on the couch
that looked halfway suitable for sitting and helped
Babette to it. The former was no longer angry; how
could someone be angry at the sad and miserable
creature Babette had become?
Babette emerged out of her cocoon and looked soulfully
at Annie. "Where’s Josh?"
Mixed emotions of anger, betrayal and sadness rose in
Annie all at once. "He’s gone back to America."
She seemed to be descending back into her personal
prison of torment. "He left me too."
"Babette?" The American girl moved to sit on the
couch, then thought better of it and instead rested a
hand on Babette’s shoulder. "What happened back in
May?"
Babette supported her forehead with one hand,
appearing to be debating about something. After a few
moments, she nodded slowly. "I’ll tell you, but
first". She raised her gaze to meet Annie’s. "May I
have a cup of tea?"
Annie nodded "Sure."
She made her way into the kitchen then stopped dead in
her tracks. The trail of decay in the living was only
a segue to what lay in back. Old food seemed to be
migrating out of a pile of garbage where one would
assume there had once been a can to hold it. An old
table with a single chair in the center of the room
seemed only to serve as an island of refuge for any
insects who may have gotten lost in the sea of scum.
Dirty pots and pans that appeared to have gone months
without feeling the soft touch of water or soap
littered the counters. A single plant stood dead in
the corner by the stove, its leaves black and
withering. Suppressing a shudder of revulsion, Annie
started searching for the tea supplies.
Babette stared out the window, watching the world go
by as she always did from her living room. Down below,
people went about their daily lives. Going to work,
falling in love, eating meals, being alone; all these
things could be seen from her perch. It was the same
view as it always was, though, and she was beginning
to get bored with it.
Wait there, across the street. Was it? It couldn’t be;
he was in jail far away. Babette stood to get a better
look, but her window as too dirty. Frowning she
started to push it open.
Annie leaned with her back against the refrigerator,
her face slightly white. Out of curiosity or just
plain naiveté, she had opened the fridge to see if
there was any milk. The sight that had greeted her
was, no, she didn’t want to think about it anymore.
Hidden under some relatively clean newspapers had been
an equally, relatively clean kettle. She got the water
started, then scoured the kitchen for a tea bag
suitable for being made into tea and a cup as suited
for holding said tea.
No sooner had she found them, the sound of shattering
glass sounded from the living room. Accompanying it
was a small shriek of surprise, then a sickening thud
along with something that sounded like crunching.
Annie ran out into the living room. Babette was not on
the couch. In fact, she wasn’t anywhere in the room at
all. The window was wide open, that wasn’t true. The
window was slightly open, yes, but there was a large
hole in the center where the glass was missing. Like
something had fallen through it. Or someone!
Annie ran to the window and looked down. Babette’s
body was sprawled out on the sidewalk, a large pool of
blood already beginning to spread out beneath her. The
woman’s neck and back were at odd, opposite angles to
one another. She was clearly dead and her secret dead
with her. People were gathering around to see what had
happened. Unsure of what to do, Annie went down to
join them.
SUNDAY
Babette was buried the next day. A small funeral
marked her passage, with Annie, Jacques and the
landlord the only ones in attendance. Afterwards, all
three of them began the daunting task of cleaning out
the dead woman’s apartment. It seemed the right thing
to do.
In the bedroom, Jacques found the rest of the photos
depicting JC and Babette’s "wild night", as well as
the bracelet that was supposed to be a gift for Annie.
He placed all these items in his pocket with the
intention of disposing of them later. No need to make
Annie upset at a time like this. Tonight was her
going-away party and he wanted everything to be
perfect.
After having dinner with Claude, Annie and Jacques
went to Mimi and Frank’s, friends from school.
Entering Annie couldn’t help but let herself get
carried into the spirit of the party. Everything was
very pretty, neat and clean, as it always was there,
but the festive decorations somehow made it look even
more inviting than usual.
Everyone was having a good time when Frank turned on
the TV. He had just gotten a new satellite feed for it
and wanted to show it off. A concert in Disney World
caught his attention; one of the guys in the group
looked vaguely familiar. "Hey Annie! Can you come here
a minute?"
Annie answered his call from across the room, sipping
from her wineglass. "What’s up?"
Then she caught a look at what was on the screen and
froze, the glass almost dropping from her hand to the
carpet.
It was a close-up of JC singing a ballad. He looked
and sounded like an angel, putting all of his heart
and soul into a song called "Sailing." The energy and
raw emotion was tangible in the room. Annie felt her
knees starting to buckle as her breath became shallow
and loud in her ears. A seat! She had to sit down. She
was going to pass out.
"Annie?" Frank put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"
She put a shaking hand to her forehead. "Yeah, I’m
fine."
"Don’t you know that guy?" He nodded towards the TV.
"Wasn’t he the guy you were seeing a couple of months
ago."
"What?" Oh no, he was just a friend."
By this time, more people were starting to crowd
around to see the concert.
"These guys are good," Someone murmured from the
background.
"Listen to those harmonies," came another awed
whisper.
Someone nearby nodded. "You rarely hear harmonies that
good except among family members."
"Great dance moves, too."
Annie had to leave; to get away. Her emotions taking
her on the equivalent to the Draken Fire roller
coaster of Busch Gardens, Virginia. This was a truly
nasty device that eventually had to be deconstructed
because it injured many of its riders with whiplash,
headaches and cuts to the poor fools dumb enough to
leave their earrings in while riding it. Basically,
not a very pleasant experience.
She made her way over to Jacques. "Please, let’s go to
the balcony. I need some air."
He guided her out, then went and brought her a glass
of water.
She accepted it gratefully. "Thanks." She took a long
drink, then smiled weakly at him. "He looked good,
don’t you think?"
"Yes." Jacques gave her a sidelong look. "Annie, are
you alright?"
She sighed, closing her eyes and holding the glass
against her forehead. "No, I can’t breathe. I thought
I could handle this, but I can’t." A tear traced its
way down her cheek. "Please take me home."
Both made their excuses and left, riding in silence
back to Claude’s. They walked in and Annie made a
beeline for her room there. Everything from her
apartment had already been taken care of, so she was
staying with them for the remainder of her time in
Paris.
Claude watched Annie enter her room, then turned to
Jacques. "What happened?" The young man told him, then
watched as the older man went to her room and knocked
on the door. Annie responded through the door that she
wanted to be alone, so Claude honored her wishes.
Rosemarie, however, was a different story. One pitiful
meow at the door was enough to get her access inside.
The cat was going to be staying behind with Claude and
Jacques when Annie had to return to the United States.
MONDAY
The next morning, Annie got up and entered the
kitchen, smiling. In her hands was a small box
addressed to JC. She went over to Claude and kissed
him on the cheek. "Claude, thank you for everything
that you’ve done for me. I don’t know how I could have
survived without your love. I’m going to miss you so
much." She turned to Jacques. "Jacques, could you
please send this to JC for me? I want him to have
this."
"Okay." To himself, though, he smiled. ‘I’ll just add
a few things to it before it gets sent off.’ Jacques
knew the pictures of JC and Babette were faked; it was
obvious to anyone giving them more than a cursory
glance. But, of course, he had another reason for
knowing they were fake. Jacques had been the one who
had taken the photographs.
Naturally, Babette would never have agreed to do
something so malicious. She was insane and delusional,
yes, but not cruel. So, he had persuaded her by
calling it a game. All she had to do was pretend that
she and JC had sex, then make sure to give the
pictures to Annie. And of course, JC couldn’t know
about it either.
Looking back on it though, Jacques had to admit
Babette had been very clever, preying on Annie’s
emotions and vulnerability. Deep inside, he felt that
he should tell Annie the truth. But he just couldn’t
bring himself to do it. She still wanted JC, while
Jacques had been ever at her side, always faithful and
true to her alone.
Besides, what could that "Pretty Boy" give her? He
didn’t even have a steady job, yet; surely, Annie
deserved better that. Someone who had more in common
with her. Besides, he thought to himself, who would
tell? Babette was dead, and JC certainly wouldn’t want
to reveal anything. He’d be too embarrassed by the
photos, destroying them before anyone could get a good
look at them. Oh sure, she was going away, but he
would still court her from afar. There was always
hope.
Everyone ate their breakfast in silence. This was
their last day together. When it was time to go, Annie
walked from room to room, touching things here and
there as if to cement them in her memory. She
re-entered the kitchen with tears in her eyes.
"It’s time for me to go," she sobbed. "I have dreaded
this day since I first met both of you. You are my
family. Please" Another sob cut off her words.
"Promise that you’ll write."
Claude took her hand to provide comfort. "Of course.
Everyday". Annie moved closer and threw her arms
around him. "I will miss you the most." She whispered.
The two of them continued hugging locked in the
embrace. After several moments, Jacques touched her
shoulder gently. "It’s time to leave for the airport
now."
Claude caressed her face. "Annie, may God watch over
you and keep you safe. I pray He gives you blessing
and joy." He wiped one tear away with his thumb,
staring into her face. "I love you so much."
Annie smiled through her sadness. "I love you too,
Grandpere Claude." They embraced one more time, and
then she walked out to the car.
Jacques drove her to the airport. While they were
waiting, he handed her a small box. Annie gave him a
strange look, then opened it. What she saw inside took
her breath away. "Jacques." She whispered. "What is
this?"
He took her hands in his. "Annie, I know that you have
always loved me as a brother. Yet, I was hoping I
could change your mind. Will you marry me?"
"No," she replied gently, turning away. "I can’t. You
are a dear, sweet, loving man, but I don’t love you in
that way."
"But, I have enough love for the both of us. In time,
you could grow to love me."
"No, it wouldn’t be fair. You deserve better." She
faced him again. "You shouldn’t settle for less than
someone who loves you like you love them. I am very
flattered, but I cannot accept your proposal."
Jacques face darkened. "It’s JC, isn’t it? He still
holds your heart."
"No, that’s not true."
"Annie, I saw your reaction to him last night. You’re
fooling yourself."
"He betrayed me, for that, I can never trust him. In
my heart, I have forgiven him, but it can never be as
it once was."
Jacques sighed, then looked pleadingly into her eyes.
"Annie, would you at least do me the honor of putting
the ring on your finger for a few minutes? At least
that? For me?"
Annie hesitated. "I don’t know."
"Please"
"Alright." She held out her left hand as Jacques
slipped the ring on. Nearby, someone dressed to fit
into the crowd covertly took a picture of the scene.
Once the ring was on, Jacques gave her a hug, followed
by a kiss.
"Jacques, please." Annie took off the ring. "Don’t".
She returned the ring to him.
The loudspeakers of the airport chose that moment to
save Annie. "Flight 802 for New York City now boarding
at Gate 11."
"That’s my flight." For some reason, Annie was
grateful for the interruption.
"I have to go." She seemed about to hug him, then
changed her mind and picked up her bag. "Please don’t
forget to mail my package." Annie then disappeared
down the walkway towards the plane.
‘Oh, I’ll take care if it,’ Jacques thought to himself
as he watched her go. ‘I’m a patient man, Annie.
Someday I’ll convince you that we belong together.’
As Annie’s plane began its taxi down the runway,
Jacques was adding the final piece to JC’s package.
"I’m sending this out to you, JC", he chuckled darkly.
"With all my love."
TUESDAY
Johnny was giving the boys of *Nsync a pep talk in his
office, raining praise on them for their performance
at Disney and how well the concert had been received.
It was now official; they were on their way.
"Oh, JC. This came for you today." He slid a package
across the desk towards the young man. Taking it, JC
saw it was postmarked Paris.
In Paris, Jacques was minding the store when Claude
came storming in from the back. In his hand were two
of the pictures featuring Babette and JC. Somehow,
they had fallen out of the box of things Annie had
left behind. The ones Babette had hand-delivered to
Annie on the day she died.
Claude came up, eyes burning with anger. "Jacques,
what is the meaning of this?! Does Annie know these
pictures are a fraud?"
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