Swan Kingdom (Finale)

Place Royale, Reims — 607 km from Neuschwanstein Castle

A dingy car nearly ran Juliette over as she crossed the street towards Louis XV’s statue. On its steps sat Guillaume, arms tightly wrapped around his legs. His back turned to her, the boy flinched when she grabbed his shoulder for support as she sat. He nodded to acknowledge her but remained silent.

They watched the cars go by, one by one, each taking turns sighing like they carried the world on their shoulders but could not say a thing. Juliette’s phone rang but she hummed the tune until it stopped instead of answering it. When it rang a second time, she hung up immediately.

“Is it Maxime?” Guillaume finally asked.

“Yeah,” Juliette replied, her tone detached.

Guillaume waited a beat for her to elaborate, but carried on when it became clear that she wasn’t going to do so. “Shouldn’t you have picked up? He’ll get worried.” His face lit up as realization dawned on him. “Is it another one of your tests?”

“Are you done worrying about my relationship when I’m sitting here worrying about you?” Juliette asked, rolling her eyes. “Where have you been all day? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Her voice broke, more so out of anger than anguish.

But Guillaume’s face turned morose as he handed her the printed web page of his Parcoursup results with his rejections from the hypokhâgne programs his parents favored. “I’ve been trying to find the words to say.”

“Is ‘Mom, Dad, I never wanted to do hypokhâgne in the first place’ not good enough for you?”

He reached for the papers and crumpled them in his hands. “I’d rather just run away again. Care to come with?”

A smile tugged at Juliette’s lips as she seriously considered leaving again. “Technically, we are adults. We could go anywhere.” She nudged him with her elbow. “What do you say, Sal? How about ‘Me, You and Germany’ Part Two?”

He chuckled half-heartedly and waived the crushed ball of paper in the air. “Haven’t we learned our lesson? We taste freedom for a few days and our futures are ruined.”

“Speak for yourself, Guillaume. I’m quite happy to write my magnum opus from my father’s wobbly kitchen table.”

But no matter what she said, there was no shaking the melancholy from her eyes, a melancholy that had remained constant from the minute she had called out Guillaume’s name outside the Abguss-Sammlung Antiker Plastik to now. His fingers grazed her chin, guiding her head so that she would face him. “Juliette, I’m s—”

“Stop.” She pressed a finger against his parted lips, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. “Don’t say the s-word, it’s not allowed.”

The pair resorted to watching the cars again, but the silence was less than comfortable. They looked in opposite directions, their backs ever so slightly turned away from one another.

Minutes had gone by before Guillaume broke the silence once more. “We should go back.” He turned to her. “I mean it this time.”

Juliette offered a feeble smile, the kind that did not crinkle her eyes. “No, you’ll be leaving me behind.”

Hurt flickered in his eyes. “Why would you say that?”

“I took the liberty of enrolling you at Bard College in Berlin.” When Guillaume failed to respond, she simply added, “You’re welcome.”

“But, why?”

“Because you’re an artist like him. Because you have that same infatuation with beauty and I want you to explore it. For real, this time. No one chasing after you, not me slowing you down. You’ll have all the time in the world, you’ll have a lifetime.”

“You never slowed me down. Of all the people on the field trip, I’m glad you were with me.”

Juliette looked into his eyes, which sparkled with sincerity. She opened her mouth to reply, but her phone rang once more. “Ugh!” She exclaimed as she moved to hang up yet again.

“Please, put the guy out of his misery,” Guillaume groaned.

“Fine.” She took the call instead but only raised the speaker to her mouth. “Hi! I’m with Guillaume so I’ll call you back. Love you!”

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” she paused to remember the topic of their conversation before resuming, “Now, I can accompany you when you move into your dorm. But, then I’ll have to come back here.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Juliette kissed the boy’s cheek and whispered, “How about a thank you?”

He settled for engulfing her in his arms, burying his head in her shoulder. “I love you, you know that?”

“Whoah there, Sal!” She laughed against his chest, completely caught off-guard.

Guillaume grabbed her shoulders, pushing her away to meet her gaze. His face was unexpectedly somber again. “But, I can’t go without you.”

She cupped his face, gently caressing his cheeks with her thumbs. “Yes, you can and you will.”

An hour later, a boy crossed the street and trudged in their direction. His hands were buried in his hoodie pocket despite the uncharacteristic harshness of the May sun, and he stopped in front of Juliette to offer her his hands. When she took them, he pulled her to her feet and planted a kiss on her lips. Her giggles unnerved Guillaume, who rolled his eyes and looked away.

“Ready to go?” Maxime asked though he was already pulling her in the direction from which he came. He glanced back at the boy sitting on the steps, and Guillaume could hardly help but smile at the thought that his own kiss with his girlfriend still inspired Maxime with such contempt.

She nodded enthusiastically, holding him by the waist. Guillaume watched the couple turn into Grand Credo Street and contemplated jetting off to Berlin before the sun could set that evening. But a familiar string of steps ran towards him, and he got up in time for Juliette to lunge herself at him with such force they almost fell to the ground.

“I’ll miss you so much it’ll hurt!” She tightened her embrace, shaking him back and forth.

Forgetting all about Maxime, he returned the gesture and lifted her off the pavement. “Then, come with me and you’ll never hurt again. I promise.”

“You won’t change your mind with a basket of apricots?”

“Never.”

She turned to look at the street she came from, but Maxime did not appear. “Please tell me that it gets better, that the emptiness goes away.”

“Trust me, it does. You made me see that. You made me whole.”