Seasalted
an Auré excerpt
M. Fillières observed his distracted son with not so much annoyance as with interest. If one were to ask him, he’d say that ‘distracted’ was not the term to use, that no, Etienne seemed entirely separate from the room. M. Fillières knew the boy to keep his head elsewhere, but the oddity then was how scrunched his brow was, how determined he appeared. He must have been sorting an issue of the mind.
“Out with it, then,” M. Fillières sighed, setting his pen onto his desk. Etienne was returned, though discombobulated at best. “We can’t be expected to respond to these letters if you aren’t properly present. Do you need assistance with the matter?” Etienne managed a smile and shook his head.
“There is no matter,” he responded, sitting upright. “I’m sorry. I was just remembering.” His father smiled at the prospect of memory, and that caused Etienne’s forced expression to lighten.
“Well then! What is it we are remembering? Perhaps you need only to tell it.”
“The sea.”
“The sea! As I know it the sea is often thought upon pleasantly, though just as often avoided. Which is it for you? Pleasant or bothersome?”
“Wholly pleasant,” Etienne mused, “Which is why it begs the question of why I feel so bothered.”
“What of your company? You escorted the Audinets, I recall that much.”
“Mademoiselle Maçon as well.”
“Dear boy! What on Earth could there have been about to bother you now?”
“That’s exactly the peculiarity!” Etienne laughed, raising his arms in defeat. “I simply cannot figure. Monsieur Overton did happen by us, so I first wondered if perhaps I stifled my annoyance at the unexpected company, but I rather like that man, so it could not have been him. In fact, he made entertaining the girls all the simpler. I would say his presence was delightful.”
“Do you wish to be upset?” his father asked.
“Not at all.”
M. Fillières had exhausted his limited expertise in the manner of contemplation. For all he could observe he could not fathom what problem had his son so involved, so clutched to the point of being unable to focus. He decided to dismiss Etienne, assuring him that he could manage the letters himself, suggesting to him that he take a walk outside or lie down for a nap, or maybe even that he should request a ride to the city to mull about in a different environment. Etienne accepted his dismissal, and as he left the room he continued to think of wet, salted curls.
Author’s Note: This excerpt is from a portion of the beginning of the novel I’ve actually omitted. I made a change to severely limit Etienne’s POV, cutting quite a few scenes that took place in the Fillières home. I chose to share this bit anyways because I recently read something from Nick Hills that reminded me of it, heavily. It’s still going to be cut, but I thought that was neat. I highly recommend reading The pigeon's gaze, by the way.
The Sea Is always the answer, wonderful piece, Lila! I've been thinking about the sea a lot these days. Maybe it's the abnormal heat or the missing seagull I saw the other day. Thanks for the tag, have a wonderful Friday!
Your character work is fucking great. Nice bite here.