Flash Nano 21 Longing

 Flash Nano 21 Prompt We are Longing …

 

Homesick

She felt guilty at how homesick she was for Edinburgh: Irn Bru, gray stone buildings, the red-bearded-kilt-wearing-bagpipe player on the bridge playing Amazing Grace, mac and cheese pub lunches, The Fringe, the story-telling festival, the castle on the hill and her cubby hole office at the university.

It was her own fault. Her rushed marriage to a Swiss Businessman 15 years her senior was why she’d moved to Geneva. If she hadn’t learned that her ex Malcolm has married six months after their breakup, she probably never would have said yes.

Jean-Pierre was a widower, who said he never did anything so rash, anything without careful study, but when he saw her it was like he’d been struck by lightning.

His marriage gift to her was a life of leisure, which after years of days with a too long to-do list, was almost a curse.

How could she complain about living in a beautiful three-bedroom flat overlooking the Rhone River. Maria, one of the Portuguese mafia or so the residents called the concierges, cleaners and handymen who kept families comfortable and free of physical labor, meant she had no household responsibilities.

She hadn’t worked so hard to get her doctorate and cement her position at the university to have nothing worthwhile to do all day long.

The wives of Jean-Pierre’s colleagues had welcomed her on the surface. She had heard them describe her as a trophy wife. Although she spoke fluent French grammatically and with a good vocabulary, her Scottish accent mangled many of the words.

His daughter had moved into the family home when the memories of his wife made moving the sensible thing to do. The daughter said she was a gold-digger.

Although she and Jean-Pierre were as similar as a dog and a field of corn, they liked each other. She was determined to make the marriage work.

Today she headed for Lake Léman to see its color. When the bloody bise blew, the water turned brown, but most of the time it was a variety of blues and even once it was teal. 

The city looked different that day. Children were in Halloween costumes although it was December. The chocolate shops had chocolate marmites filled with marzipan vegetables. 

As she went into the Vieille Ville two men in armor rode horses over the cobbled stone streets. Women were dressed in 1600-style long dresses, capes and bonnets. There were stands selling vin chaud and vegetable soup.

She asked one of the women what was happening. The woman explained it was the Escalade, the festival celebrating the overthrow of French invaders in 1602.

She walked down the hill to the big park. 

Two men played chess with life sized pieces. 

The university was to her right. She would love to teach there, but she lacked a work permit to work anywhere. Jean-Pierre said it wouldn’t look right if she did work.

She came to the statues of Feret, Calvin, Beza and Knox, the Protestant reformers. They look angry, she thought. It wasn’t a surprise. John Knox was a sour biggie in Edinburgh, his former home part of the tourist attractions.

She walked back up the hill to the Vieille Ville and bought a mug of soup and sat on a bench to watch the people. If Knox was such an important person in Geneva and Edinburgh, maybe she could write a book on his influence on the two places. Her research would allow her to go back and forth.

Maybe she could even make it a work of fiction. Maybe, just maybe, she found something worthwhile to do. 

Maybe the longing could be replaced.