Teenage Dream.. Sort of.

Chapter 1- 1953

The fog covered the lake, while the moonlight shined upon the forest. The music inside Jacques' head played softly, never seizing to play. He danced alone that night, without a single soul with him. However, Rosaline's spirit lingered with him, though he knew she was long gone ever since that April night in 1943.

Jacques shook himself awake. He'd been having the same dream for years. On his side, his wife, Mirande, was sound asleep. She'd never know. He got out of his bed silently and slipped on his dark blue slippers. It was cold, so he decided to take a jacket along with him.

The streetlights beamed upon the street, lighting Jacques' way. It wasn't that far away from his flat. Paris may be a large city, but he knew very well his way around it. He turned and saw the forest in the distance, simply waiting for Jacques' nightly meeting with it and the lake. He dreaded returning there and hiding it from his wife, but he had no choice. The spirit of his first love, his only love, was in the air and he could still smell her rosey perfume. He was now close to the lake, so he kicked off his slippers and slipped off his jacket and breathed in the air.

His light movements were delightful to him, however the scene was just as he had seen in his dream. The moonlight was bright, yet misty because of the fog. The music began playing in his mind, and Jacques took off without a care in the world. He knew he could spend hours just dancing with himself and the aroma of the pine trees, but he wouldn't stay out too long.

Fifteen, twenty minutes passed and he was now sitting on the side of the lake. The fish hopped out of the water every once in a while, greeting Jacques with a "You-can't-catch-me" look. He and Rosaline used to say that one day they'd go fishing in that same lake, however, it didn't end like that.

He packed up his things, head bowed and tears flowing from his eyes, and decided to leave the lake he now called "Le lac d'amour."

Chapter 2-1953

The routine began again. Jacques got up, finding that his wife had already gone to the kitchen to make their breakfast, and slipped on his slippers. He casually walked to the bathroom and shaved his face, being sure to make it clear for Mirande's specifications. After he shaved, he walked to the kitchen, ready for the day.

"Bonjour, Jacques!" exclaimed Mirande delightfully, placing pancakes on a plate next to fresh-made eggs. "I was wondering when you would get up!" She kissed his cheek, and Jacques forced a smile, thinking to himself about how he got up at the same time every single day and how she could still wonder why he slept so late. The reason was obvious and stood out in his muddy and misty mind, however he didn't dare to state it out loud.

"Salut, Mirande. You know I never get up early. I see we're having bacon and eggs again, no?" He shook his head easily enough so that she wouldn't notice.

"Oui, you know I couldn't go a day without eating this food," she retorted in an overly-happy voice. Jacques had always wondered as to whether the voice was fake or she really was that happy ever since their marriage in 1949. The voice, however, was now routine, and he expected to hear it everyday though he knew he wouldn't want to.

The couple sat down at the table, prayed, and dug into their routine meal.

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Jacques sat at his desk in the school, ready to begin his routine math lesson to his students. He didn't enjoy math much, he'd rather be teaching music. However, any music he heard reminded him of lost love and tears. He drank another sip of his luke-warm coffee and began to speak.

"If x minus 9 equals 9, what does x equal?" he asked in a boring monotone voice. He knew he should show some emotion, but the children showed none, therefore he didn't feel obligated to show any.

A student raised her hand ever too enthusiastically and said without being called on, "X equals negative 7, obviously!" She folded her hands on her desk confidently.

"Now, Léa," Jacques began as he prepared himself for his routine lecture.

Chapter 3-1943

It was cold and brisk, and Jacques had just gotten out of class. He walked with himself to the café, where he ordered his routine lunch of bacon and a crêpe. On routine, he would soon leave and get back to his flat to continue with homework. However, the routine didn't continue as usual.

A fine brunette female walked in with a cigarette in her mouth. Her overcoat looked worn, and she looked quite tired. Her mouth opened and a voice as clear as an angel's song said, "Trieste was sunk today in Sardinia, Bernard, you hear?" She shook the rain off of her umbrella and sat it down. A man, whom Jacques presumed was Bernard, walked his pudgy body behind the counter and replied. Soon, the two were off in conversation as Bernard made the fair lady a coffee.

Jacques was nearly finished with his meal when the girl was walking out the door. Her body moved heavenly as she grabbed her umbrella. Suddenly, a large gust of wind blew through the door causing the girl to collapse, along with the coffee in her hand. A yelp managed to escape her lips as she fell.

Jacques, being the routine man he was, didn't think he should help this woman. However, he decided it was the time to do someone a favor. He jumped out of his seat and ran to the aide of the gasping girl. When he got to her side, she had scolding hot coffee all over her jacket and face. "Oh, madamoiselle, are you alright?" Jacques asked, grabbing the lady's hand and pulling her up.

"Oh, monsieur, yes, I am, but..." she began and stopped. Jacques and the girl had met eyes, and all Jacques could see was deep, dark blue ocean. He was enshrouded by precious feelings and butterfly movements in the pit of his stomach. The two noticed suddenly they were staring and shook off the feeling. "Yes, thank you," she stated professionally, without thinking anything of what had just happened.

"Oh, I'm certainly glad," Jacques said. He helped the girl get out of her predicament. "I'm Jacques, by the way.

The girl looked up with her eyes of sapphire and said, "Hello, Jacques, my name is Rosaline."

Chapter 4-1953

It was around 8 o'clock in the evening while Jacques and Mirande were sitting down for dinner. As usual, the meal contained some sort of meat that wasn't pork, a vegetable, and some sort of grain, all of which were Kosher because of the couple's religion. Jacques was particularly humdrum today because it was April 10, the day that the Trieste sank in Sardinia.

"Mon cher, what's wrong?" asked Mirande in her too-happy tone. She ate some of her asparagus.

"Nothing," he replied in a humdrum tone. He wasn't eating at all just because of the haunting memory. He got up when Mirande got up simultaneously.

"Jacques, we're going on a walk now," Mirande said in a demanding tone, something which was much different from her routine tone. The activity she proposed was also non-routine, because after dinner, the couple usually went to the salon to smoke a cigarette and have a brandy.

"What do you mean, Mirande, you didn't pencil it in on your schedule," Jacques said as he was leaving the room. He was nearly out of the dining room when Mirande was raising her tone.

"Oh, non, Jacques. We're going a walk, whether you like it or not." She slipped on her shoes, as did Jacques because he wasn't up for the arguing. "We're going to go to the park."

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The couple sat on a bench in the park, while darkness was surrounding them. They weren't speaking, because on the way Mirande had nagged a little too much about Jacques' unwillingness to do anything. Mirande grabbed Jacques' hand and held it, and Jacques kept a hold of it for no reason other than he didn't want for her to hurt him.

"Kiss me," Mirande said. She was looking at him, eyes burning with anger, or was it jealousy of some sort?"Why?" Jacques said in a monotone voice, trying to cover up the fact that it was beginning to be very late and he was very tired.

"Just kiss me, Jacques." She leaned over. Jacques leaned over and put his cold lips on hers, not feeling any of the love she was wanting to feel.

Mirande leaned back after the kiss, unsatisfied. "Jacques, I want you to kiss me. That was nothing." She leaned over, grabbed his head, and kissed him. What Jacques thought would be a 3-second kiss turned into a two minute kiss because of the arousement of Mirande.

"Let's walk to the lake now," Mirande said. "I'm in the mood for a bit of moonlight and fish." She grabbed her purse off of the bench, got up, and waited for Jacques to begin walking.

"It's late, Mirande, I don't think it's safe to do that.""Jacques, you're doing it. Come now.""Mirande, what're you doing?" He sensed much anger in her voice."Jacques, just walk!" She was shouting now. Jacques was fearful, but he wasn't going to go to the lake with her. It wasn't their spot, and he wasn't about to make it theirs.

"No." Jacques got up and began walking to the flat.

"What did you just say?" Mirande was now screaming with no discretion. However, Jacques kept walking. "Fine, Jacques, but you're not going back home. I've about had it with this marriage. You do nothing but ruin it. I tried to break our routine today with something I felt would be lovely, but you just ruined it." She was nearly in tears, and the anger flushed her face out.

"Fine, Mirande," Jacques retorted as he changed his direction and began walking into town.

Chapter 5-1943

Rosaline looked up at Jacques again with some of the most loving eyes. "Would you like to come to my home, Jacques? I can't begin to thank you for what you just did." She shook her brown hair out, the curls bouncing and the dark brown coffee splashing out of it.

"I can't possibly intrude, Rosaline. I just did what was right is all," he smiled to himself because this was the first time he'd been asked by a girl to go to his home in all 20 years of his life.

Rosaline shook her head. "No, you must. Please, come," she insisted. Jacques shrugged his shoulders and opened the door, openning the door to a whole new world of possibilities.

The two walked the streets of Paris without the slightest care in the world. They were deep in conversation about, simply put, life.

"So, Jacques, you're Jewish?" Rosaline was nearly skipping because she was so delightfully happy. Jacques thought to himself about how she could be so happy, yet look so worn.

"Oui. I just fear one day a Nazi will reappear in Paris and try to do something. I guess I worry a bit too much, is all." He took another drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out, watching it rise into the cool, wet spring air.

"Oh, you mustn't worry about such things, dear. I'm Jewish as well, and between you and I, I think Nazi's are the most foolish people on the planet. They know nothing about our faith." She giggled to herself, and stopped.

"My, what're we stopping for now?" Jacques asked in a playful tone. He stopped and adjusted his fedora on his head."I must ask a question before we go any further," Rosaline said in a serious tone. "Tell me, Jacques.." She was trying to drag the conversation out. "Do you like vanilla or chocolate ice cream?" She smiled and showed her beautiful white, straight teeth.

Jacques laughed. "You're a piece of work, now, aren't you, Rosaline?" He smiled again. The two began walking once again. Out of nowhere, Rosaline grabbed Jacques' hand and entwined her soft fingers in his. Jacques looked up at her and met her gaze, and he instantly knew he had gotten himself into something. The nature of that something, however, had yet to be determined.

"Where do you live, Rosaline?" He asked, keeping a firm grasp on her hand. He looked around and saw nothing but buildings that only the richest and finest of Parisians would live in.

"Oh, we're just a couple of steps away," she said as she led him to a rather large and luxurious-looking building. It didn't look damaged at all by the war. "Just follow me."

Chapter 6-1953

Jacques sat alone on a bench in a barren street in the middle of Paris. It was around 10:30 PM, and no one was lurking the streets any longer. Jacques had cried far too much that day, a lot more than any man should in one day. No one stopped when the streets were still accumulating with small masses of people to ask what was wrong. Nothing at all had happened, other than the fact that he cried.

Jacques had bought a bottle of wine to have with himself. He'd only had it an hour and half of the bottle had already been drank. He didn't know what was going on in his world; all of the walls had already crashed down and he could see all of the bad in people, without catching the slightest glimpse of any of the good.

A shadow of a figure was cast upon the street. Jacques couldn't care less. The shadow, however, was inching closer and closer to him. Jacques was now a little cautious. He tried not to budge at all so the figure wouldn't see him. Then, Jacques saw the person. It was a petite woman with brown hair. He knew he'd seen the face before, but it must've been years because he couldn't place the face.

"Hello, Jacques," said the angelic voice. She was now right in front of him, but he still didn't know who it was. Jacques wasn't about to reply to a stranger, so he bowed his head.

"Jacques, speak to me." She still had a lovely tone, not showing any sort of anger.

"What do you want from me?" Jacques was in tears because he had finally placed the voice.

"I've come to tell you that I'm going to set you free. Your promise has been kept, Jacques, and I appreciate everything you've done. My grave is now covered in vibrant flowers with a wonderful aroma, and my memory has remained not only in your mind, but also in your heart. Thank you, Jacques."

Jacques stood up, wanting to touch the woman. "I don't want to let go. I'm not going to." He inched closer and closer to the face, and kissed the soft, vuluptuous lips. "I just want you to be here with me."

"I can't, Jacques. I still love you. I am watching you." Her body began to rise above him slowly, and her body became transparent. "Au revoir, Jacques."

"Where are you going?!" Jacques cried. "You can't leave!" The woman's body was barely visible now, and Jacques' drunken mind knew he must say his good-bye. "Good bye, lovely. Je t'aime!" He fell to his knees, because he could no longer see the beautiful figure, and he wept.

Chapter 7-1943

Jacques and Rosaline were inside her second floor flat. Jacques was simply amazed by what was there. There were beautiful, crystal chandaliers in nearly every room. The lamps were the finest lamps that he'd seen. He and Rosaline were sitting in her salon, asking each other questions, at around 6:30 PM.

"So, have you ever loved anyone, Jacques?" Rosaline asked with a twinkle in her eye.

Jacques thought tremendously about the question. Rosaline looked at him with curiosity oozing out of her mouth, which was wide open. "Well, I don't think I've ever loved anyone. I've traveled all of my life. When I was 7, I lived in Biarritz. When I was 13, I lived in Nice. Now, I live in Paris. I haven't been able to connect to anyone."

Rosaline seemed disappointed in the answer she was given. "What's wrong, darling?" Jacques asked caringly.

"Well, nothing. I was just hoping that there was a bit more details and ooey gooey stories. That's all," she told him with a giggle. "I, myself, loved a man a couple of years ago when I was 16. We were head over heels for each other. Then, when he asked me to marry him, I thought a little bit too long. And well..." She stopped. She wiped away a couple of tears and looked down.

"Well, what happened, Rosaline?" Jacques was holding her hand in his, moving his thumb around on her palm, which she seemed to enjoy."He began stalking me. It wasn't just minor stalking. I saw him outside of my window. And then, when we were together, he'd well..." She stopped once again. "Jacques, he'd beat me and rape me. It was the most horrid thing I'd ever experienced." She began bawling, not even thinking about wiping away the tears. Her head fell on his chest, and she grabbed his shirt and cried.

"Rosaline, it's fine. You're the most wonderful girl I've ever known. He means nothing now, dear." He patted her head with so much care. He thought about crying himself.

Rosaline looked up, tears still streaming down her face. "Jacques, do you really mean that?" She looked like a puppy wanting love, but Jacques knew she wasn't just looking for love.

"Of course, Rosaline. I've known you for what, 6 hours, and I already think the world of you." He smiled at her. She brought her head up and kissed his lips. "Oh..." Jacques didn't know what to think, so he just grabbed her face and kissed her again. It was his first kiss, yet it contained so much passion and love and he knew this kind of thing would last.

"Jacques, let's run away together," Rosaline said after they'd finished kissing. "Let's go to Biarritz. Let's just go. I can't stand being here with people watching over me and acting as if I'm an ant they're ready to step on."

"What do you mean, Rosaline? I'm here with you now, and that's all that matters."

"No, Jacques. I love you." She looked at him with love in her eyes. He knew she meant it.

"For you, my dear, I'll do anything." He kissed her forehead.

Rosaline stood up off of the couch. "Jacques, I'm going to change into something. Meet me at the lake in an hour, alright?"

Jacques was now curious. "What, what for?"

"Just do it."

Jacques stood up, kissed Rosaline with his quivering lips and replied, "Alright. For you. I love you Rosaline."

"I love you, too, Jacques." She began singing as she went to her room. As Jacques was leaving, the only thing he thought about is what Rosaline would look like in a wedding gown.

Chapter 8-1943

Jacques sat alone by the lake in his best suit. He wore his finest suspenders, his whitest shirt, his most regal jacket, and his best pants. He had 7 roses with him; he got one for each hour he'd know the best Rose there could ever be. However, he felt like there was something watching him. He soon shook off the feeling because he heard footsteps. He knew they weren't a murderer's; they were far too light. He knew because of the gentle footsteps they were Rosaline's.

"I thought you'd never come," Jacques said as he watched the lake. The sun had already set, and the moon was out, clear and bright.

Rosaline inched toward Jacques'. "Look at me Jacques." She stood behind him, waiting for him to turn around.

Jacques turned around and was awed by what he'd seen. Rosaline's dress was pure white and came just to her knees. The straps on the dress were slim, yet endearing. Her high-heels were white as well. She looked like she'd just came down from heaven.

"Rosaline, you look like an angel," Jacques told her as he got down on one knee, kissed her soft hand, and presented her with the roses. "7 red roses for the best Rose I know," he said gently.

"Jacques!" Rosaline exclaimed. Her eyes were wet with tears. "You're the sweetest, mon cher." Jacques stood up and lightly kissed Rosaline's lips.

"Let's sit by the lake, shall we?" Jacques asked as her took Rosaline's hand.

"Jacques, I can't. I'm wearing white," she replied. Jacques then took off his jacket and sat it on the grass next to the shores of the lake.

"For you," he murmured. Rosaline daintily sat down. Jacques sat right next to her, not afraid of anything in the world at the moment.

"Jacques, how could you even be real? I thought I'd only ever dream about someone like you," Rosaline said shyly.

"This is a dream, Rosaline. My mother told me that anything at all like this would only ever be a dream." He put his arm around hers, turned her head with his hand, and kissed her again. Soon, the couple was lying on the ground, kissing their loves, and loving every moment of it.

They stopped and turned on their backs.

"You see that star?" Jacques asked as he pointed to the brightest one in the sky.

"I've never seen a star that bright," Rosaline gently said aloud. "It's so spectacular."

"You know, I've only seen one star like that in my entire life." Jacques put his hand down and put his hands behind his head.

Rosaline sat up. "When?"

"The moment I saw you come through the door in the café." Jacques wiped away a tear.

Rosaline stood up. "Jacques, please stand up."

"Why?" Jacques asked as he stood up.

"Let's dance." Rosaline smiled.

"It wouldn't be proper. There's no music playing, Rosaline." He chuckled, but realized she was all too serious.

"Let's pretend that Debussy's Claire de Lune is playing. It fits perfectly. The moon is shining, there's fog everywhere, yet I can still see you."Jacques got down on one knee and took Rosaline's hand. "May I have this dance?"

Rosaline smiled.

Jacques put his hand on her hip as Rosaline put her hand on his shoulder. The other hand of Jacques held Rosaline's free hand, and the couple took off dancing. The music was in both of their minds, playing in sync, as if it were meant to be playing. Their movements were light, angelic, and airy. Rosaline's skirt flipped in all of the right ways. In both of their minds, the couple thought about how this was the best moment that could ever be possible. The love was undeniably in the air. Rosaline's sweet smile shined, as did Jacques'.

An hour had already went by. It was nearly 10:30 PM now. The couple again sat by the lake laughing and kissing. Fish hopped out of the water.

"Jacques, one day let's fish here," Rosaline said with a smile on her face.

"Let's do it, Rosaline. You know, we'll catch every fish in this lake."

"Oh, that's absurd, Jacques. The lake isn't our limit."

"Than what is?"

Rosaline smiled shyly. "Jacques, the stars are our limit. With love, nothing can be destroyed. Things can only be built up." She stopped and thought for a moment. "Jacques, I love you. I want to marry you. You know, you're the only man in the world that I'd ever trust my life with, and honestly Jacques, I do trust my life in your hands."

Jacques was flabbergasted. "Rosaline, I feel the same way. I love you to the moon and back. You're the best thing that's ever been remotely mine." The couple kissed passionately, with sparks flying. "But I must go. I have school tomorrow." Jacques stood up.

Rosaline stood up as well, and smiled. "That's fine, Jacques. Just promise me one thing. Every night you'll come back here. Every night. We'll dance, we'll fish, we'll talk, we'll grow old together. This is sentimental now, Jacques. I love you." She kissed his lips on her tip-toes because of the height difference.

"I love you too, Rosaline." The couple kissed one last time. "I'll come back for you." He walked away, nearly skipping because he knew at that moment in time he was in love.

Chapter 9-1943

Two, three, four, five days went by without Jacques seeing Rosaline. Each night, he went back to the river. Each night, he danced by himself because she hadn't shown up. He was scared of her bailing on him. They were supposed to get married, start a life. She'd bailed though.

Something Rosaline had said still lingered in Jacques' mind. "I love you to the moon and back." She had meant it, hadn't she? Why hadn't she returned? Each night at the lake, Jacques wept, wondering what he'd done wrong.

Jacques burst into the doors of the café where Rosaline and he had first met. "Bernard," he said quietly. "Bernard!" he said again, but this time a lot louder.

He saw the hefty man coming through the café door. Jacques was sad to see him, but he knew it was for the best.

"Oui, Jacques, I'm here. What do you need?" Bernard looked a little annoyed.

Jacques pulled on the collar of his shirt. "Have you seen Rosaline?" he demanded as tears came to his eyes.

Bernard's eyes lost a sparkle, and he bowed his head. "Jacques..."

"ANSWER ME!" Jacques was now screaming.

"Sit down, Jacques, and I will." Jacques sat down.

"You were with her on the night of the tenth, no?" Bernard asked.

Jacques nodded.

"Well, had Rosaline told you about her ex-boyfriend?"

Jacques' heart sunk into his stomach. "Yes, why, Bernard?"

"Had she mentioned that she soon found out that he was a Nazi?"

Jacques was still. He didn't try to reply; thankfully, Bernard continued.

"Well, he'd been watching her for weeks, months, years. That night, he was lurking in the forest near the lake. He saw you together. His hatred then grew for Rosaline. He had hated her at first because she was Jewish, but now he hated her because she was with someone whom wasn't him."

Jacques bowed his head. He soon looked up, because Bernard wasn't finishing his story. "What happened, Bernard?"

"On her way home, she saw him. She screamed. Her screams were heard at the police station nearby. By the time they arrived, she was already dead. At first, they thought it was a Nazi murder, however, they soon found it was something more." Jacques was weeping by this point. His love, his only love, had been murdered. It was his fault, nonetheless.

"She was raped, too.." Bernard bowed his head.

Jacques burst out the door and into the streets of Paris. His eyes filled with tears, he screamed and cursed at the world.

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That night, Jacques bought a bottle of wine and soon finished it off as he sat by the river, weeping, asked God why he'd done this to Jacques. After he finished the bottle, he threw it into the lake, laid down, and wept.

Chapter 10-1953

Jacques was now by the river. He hadn't even tried to dance with himself. He was standing on a stool, rope in front of his face in a knot, and he was saying his last goodbyes.

"God, tell Mirande I'm sorry. Our marriage was a fake. Tell everyone that I'd hurt in life, that I'm sorry. Lastly, dear Lord, tell Rosaline I'm ready to be with her eternally. Thank you for sending me Rosaline's ghost tonight." His words were slurred, however, somehow he knew what he was doing, and he wanted to do it.

Seven roses in hand, Jacques wrapped the knot around his neck, pulled one foot off of the stool, and then the other, and hung himself, eternally leaving the world which had hurt him so much.

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Jacques and Rosaline's ghosts danced by "Le Lac d'Amour" once again. Their love was now eternal. Their love and dance was contained eternally in the Claire de Lune.

Fin

Sorry this is very mediocre writing and has some plot flaws, but I hope you enjoy it!

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