“Um…” Océane looks around, her chin trembling. “The apartment thing… a while. I just… Living alone like this… I…”
“Hey, hey.” I scoot closer to her and wrap an arm around her frail shoulders, careful not to hurt her. “You should have told me you were struggling.”
“It’s been getting worse,” she continues. “Lately, I’ve just… I can’t even get myself in the shower.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No.” I lean back so I can look her in the eye. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have caught on.”
“You’re not a mind reader, Rachel. You have your own life to worry about.”
“Well, you’re a part of my life, too.” I look around, then squeeze her closer. “You can’t live like this anymore.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she sobs. “I can’t get a roommate. I’ll only be a burden on them, and that’s not a stranger’s responsibility.”
I open my mouth, but she interrupts me.
“I already looked into facilities for assisted living. There are some for younger people like me. There’s one in Pierrefond, and another one in Petite Patrie.” Her gaze falls to the ground. “But they have no room right now. The ones that do have room…”
A shudder passes through me at what she’s implying. There’s no way I’m letting Océane live in a place like that if it’s anything less than wonderful. And some of these places are straight up awful.
The thought lurking in the back of my brain grows, until I have no choice but to face it.
“You’re going to come live with us.”
The words are out. I can’t take them back now.
Océane blanches. “I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. I’m not leaving you here alone.” I gesture around us again to make my point. “Clearly, this isn’t working.”
“Rachel, I’d love to live with you. But…” She shakes her head. “I’m not your responsibility. I can’t impose like that.”
“You’re not imposing. I’m insisting. And you are my responsibility, whether you like it or not.”
“I’m a grown adult.”
“Who can’t take care of herself!” My heart rate is getting faster. “Océane, this is dangerous. You could have gotten seriously injured, or… fuck, you could have broken your neck. And you’regoing to make yourself sick living in an apartment that you can’t clean.”
I’m the one who got her out of our parents’ house. The one who’s been making sure she’s been surviving for the last several years. This responsibility is mine to bear, no one else’s.
Especially not a stranger at some facility I know nothing about.
More tears escape Océane’s eyes. “I can’t do this to you guys. What about Karan?”
“What about him?” I pinch my lips. “You know how much he values family. He’s not going to object to us helping out my sister.”
At least, he better not.
Every time Martine comes by the house without warning, or plans an outing with the twins without telling me in advance, his response is the same.
She’s my mom. I don’t want to stir shit up and cause a fight in the family.
Or, the one I simply can’t fault him for saying:
She’s sick. I want her to spend as much time as she can with the boys.
