She exhaled and looked to the heavens. “Dieu merci. He’s not as stupid as I feared. I was afraid he had too much of his father in him, a hockey boy screwing anything on legs. Guy dates all these girls, but they don’t fit him like you do.”
My stomach turned at the thought of who else he might be dating, but her words made me feel a little better. “But we live so far apart.”
“Yes,ma cherie, but you might not always. You’re young. You’ll live your life and sow your oats, but I want you to at least try to come together at some point. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I’m on a lot of drugs. But I’ve known this for a while. Can you promise me you will try for each other?”
Her eyes were serious.
“Have you told him this?”
“He knows.” She winced in pain and grabbed for my hand. I let her grip me tightly, until her wave of pain seemingly passed.
“Yes, Maman. I’ll try.”
“Good.” She squeezed my hand.
“He calls mema puce, too. What does it mean?”
“Oh?” Eva’s eyes brightened. “He knows more than he shows. It means ‘little flea.’ You either use it to talk sweetly to a little girl or to a girlfriend who you love very much.”
I laughed. “He probably thinks I’m just a little girl.”
“I don’t think so. But my boy has made mistakes with you before. He might be a stupid boy, too.” We laughed together like we had so many times on her porch as the sun went down. The weight of the fact that she was almost gone pressed in.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I said, tears filling my eyes.
“I know. But it’s my time. I know you and your family will look after my Guy,” Eva said. “We almost stayed in a town north of Charleston, you know. Guy was the one who made me go more south. If we hadn’t, we would not have you Gattos.”
I got chills from her saying that. The two of them had been such a force since they entered our lives. I told her I loved her and left her to rest. When I went back into the living room, I found a face I didn’t recognize. A girl. A very pretty girl.
“Kitty, this is Elise,” Guy said. “My girlfriend.”
The room felt hot. I wanted to puke. I wanted to run. Guy and I texted, but we always talked about stupid stuff: inside jokes, videos, memes. Never anything substantial like boyfriends or girlfriends. But I wasn’t there to flirt with Guy, or kiss Guy. I was there to be a good friend to him, and to say goodbye to Eva.
“Hi,” I croaked, extending my hand for a shake. Her perfectly manicured hand barely held mine for a second. I did my best to make small talk. I was distracted by taking in her features. Of course Guy would go for someone so pretty and polished. She looked like she came from the Pretty Girl Store, not a hair out of place, generically beautiful. It almost made me want to be more of the gritty, sarcastic, biting person that I was. I wanted to cover myself in tattoos and piercings to prove how opposite I was of what he really liked. I wasn’t even a tattoo or piercing person. I just felt like I had to rebel somehow to show my feelings weredefinitely, 100% not hurt.
Then I remembered what Eva and I had discussed and realized I needed to give it a shot. She was right. We’d go our own ways, and I had to accept it. We thought we’d never see each other again when he left West Virginia. He was free to date people, and so was I. But my heart felt like it could never love anyone but him.
Still, I breathed a little easier after Elise went home for the evening. She tried to kiss Guy inside, but he rushed to give her a hug and push her out the door. A small victory for me, even though I knew I had no right to him. We weren’t really expecting to see each other again.
In the night, Guy came into the room I was sharing with Mom. Silent tears wet his face.
“I think she’s going,” he said, fear in his voice. Mom and I leapt up and ran to Eva’s room, joining Guy at her bedside. Grandmere was already there, making continued signs of the cross as Eva’s breathing got more labored. I’d never been there when someone died. I was scared. Mom sat next to Grandmere. Guy held one of Eva’s hands, and I held his other hand. He whispered things to her in French, continually kissing her hand.
With one final gasp, Eva breathed her last. Grandmere led us in a Hail Mary in French. Mom and I mumbled along in English. Guy laid his head on her bed and sobbed, not letting go of my hand. When he sat up, I pulled him into my chest and held him there. I wanted to absorb his pain, to somehow carry it for him.
Mom closed Eva’s eyes and kissed her best friend’s forehead one last time. Then she opened the window. I glared at her, confused.
“To let her soul leave,” Mom said. “A country thing. I’ll make the calls.” She stopped to kiss Guy on the head and pat his back before quietly leaving the room. I started to stand to leave, too, but Guy pulled me down.
“Stay. Please.” His eyes were so desperate, heartbreaking. And so I stayed while the undertaker came. I sat with Guy as he sat with his grief. Grandmere left the room when the undertakerdid, leaving me with Guy and the empty bed.
“Do you want to go outside?” I asked him. He nodded.
It was cold. September in Quebec was a different affair than September in West Virginia. He draped a spare jacket around my shoulders as we sat on the top step of the porch. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his own jacket pocket.
“Those things’ll kill you,” I mused.
“Good,” he grumbled.
