“She slipped coming out of the shower. I heard the noise and see her on the bathroom floor.” Fréd twirls her disheveled hair. “She say she fine, but I don’t take chance. Her hip replacement still healing.”
A doctor emerges from the exam room, clipboard in hand. “Family of Vivienne Beauregard?”
“That’s us,” I say, stepping forward. “I’m her son.”
“Your mother is going to be fine, Mr. Beauregard. No fractures or serious injuries. Just some bruising on her left side.” He gives a small smile. “She’s quite... vocal about wanting to go home.”
Relief floods through me. “Can we see her?”
He nods. “Yes. But please reinforce that she needs to use her shower chair.”
I shake my head, mentally kicking myself. “I’ll get one installed immediately.”
“Please do. Falls are the number one complication after hip replacements,” he says with professional seriousness. “We’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
Inside the room, Maman sits perched on the exam table, looking annoyed and embarrassed in a hospital gown.
“This is ridiculous,” she huffs when she sees me. “I told Frédérique I’m perfectly fine.”
“You could have re-injured your hip, Maman.” I squeeze her hand. “You scared us.”
Her expression softens. “I’m sorry, my son.” She glances toward the door. “Is Meesha here?”
“In the waiting area,” I confirm.
Maman presses her lips together. “I appreciate her concern, but I don’t want her seeing me like this. It’s undignified enough having Frédérique witness my fall.”
I don’t push the issue, knowing her pride. As the nurse returns with the discharge papers, I make a mental note to call mycontractor first thing tomorrow about installing shower bars and a chair. Another crisis narrowly averted, even as my personal life remains in shambles.
An hour later, after a silent drive, Meesha and I finally make it to the rental house. I park but don’t immediately move to exit the car. Rain patters against the roof as we sit in suspended animation.
Finally, I turn off the engine and step out. The cold air hits my lungs as I walk to the front door, not looking back to see if she follows. Inside, I flip on the lights and move to the kitchen, bracing my hands against the counter.
Her footsteps are hesitant behind me. “Connor, please look at me.”
I turn, maintaining careful control of my expression. “I’m listening, là.”
“It was a stupid mistake. I’ve regretted it every day since.”
“Why, Meesha?”
She steps forward cautiously. “It meant nothing.”
“That’s not what I asked. I want to know why it happened at all. Étais-tu saoule? Were you drunk?”
She shakes her head. “No. I wasn’t.”
My fingers curl into fists at my sides before I relax them. “So you made a conscious choice to kiss him, c’est ça?”
“I was confused, Connor. Scared about getting married.”
“And instead of talking to me, your man of ten years, you kissed a stranger?” I move past her to the living room, needing space.
“You’ve always been so certain about us.” Her voice trembles. “You’ve never questioned our future, not once. I was afraid of seeming ungrateful or making you doubt what we have.”
I fight to keep my voice level. “So you thought kissing someone else was the solution? Mon Dieu, Meesha, j’comprends pas. I thought we shared everything.”
“We do! This was one moment of weakness—”
