He pauses just long enough to pull me in closer, then goes on.
“Eventually, my dad explained: those slides were part of a rare series that illustrated, without using a single word, the link between the infinitely large and the infinitely small. Each pair showed the same shape, but on completely different scales. One enormous, the other microscopic. Like the solar system and an atom. Or a neuron and a galactic cluster.”
He smiles faintly. “He didn’t know it at the time, but I found out later that those recurring shapes in nature, across scales, are called fractals.”
I can’t hold back my curiosity. “Was your dad a scientist too?”
Remi laughs. “No, not at all. He was… a high school religion teacher. His interest was more philosophical, I’d say. He saw a kind of divine design in the way natural patterns repeat. A hidden connection between things that seemed unrelated.”
He pauses for a few seconds before continuing.
“So, to answer your question from earlier, I think my passion for science was born that night. Unlike my dad, I’ve never beenvery religious… but the questions that evening sparked in me led me to look for rational, scientific explanations.”
“But… didn’t you just say science doesn’t have definitive answers?” I ask, frowning slightly, still trying to wrap my head around it.
“True,” he says with a grin. “But I didn’t know that back then.”
He shrugs lightly. “Still, even if science can’t explain everything… some answers are pretty satisfying.”
“Got it… I mean, more or less,” I reply, flashing him a wink.
I open my mouth to ask the next question that’s already forming in my mind, but the words never come out.
Something in me hesitates. Holds back. Because what I really want to ask is what happened to his father.
It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned him. I know his mother and sister, Maude, still live in Sennen Cove, but until now, he’s never said a single word about his dad.
Remi must be a mind-reader, because somehow, he knows. Without speaking, he reaches for my hand, slowly, deliberately, and places it over his chest, right where his heart beats. Then he covers it with his own.
“His name was Atticus…”
I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.
“He’s gone.”
He pauses, letting the words settle. He doesn’t need to explain, I understand. And I have no intention of asking for details he’s not ready to share.
But then, just when I think that’s all he’ll say, he surprises me again.
After a long, quiet breath, he starts to speak once more.
“One morning, he got up, happy as ever… My dad was always cheerful. The sweetest, warmest person you could imagine.”
He tries to add a touch of humour, “Clearly, I didn’t take after him.” But the smile that follows doesn’t reach his eyes.
The air between us grows heavier. Still, I brace myself.
“He got dressed, made breakfast, scones, bacon, and fresh orange juice. There were still red roses in a vase on the table, ones he’d brought home for my mum the night before. We chatted about nothing in particular, like we always did. Then he kissed us all, me, Maude, my mum, and left to catch the train to work.”
Remi’s hand tightens around mine, hard. Too hard. But I don’t let go.
“When he got to the station, right on time, he waited for the train to approach… and jumped onto the tracks. Just like that.”
He snaps his fingers, sharp and precise, then meets my eyes.
The shock hits me like a punch to the chest. I can’t breathe. Every part of me wants to reach for him, to hold him, to shield him from the weight of what he’s just said.
But I stay still.
