9.
801 Words
At the end of the meal, I help my hosts clear the table. Simone does the dishes while I do the drying up. Gerard has settled down on the sofa in the living room and you can already hear him snoring despite the sound of running water and clinking plates. It’s nap time.
My watch, a gift from mom for last Christmas, tells me that it’s almost 3.30 p.m. I tremble with impatience. I want to go shake Gerard to leave immediately. Why wait: when you have to go, you have to go!
An idea arises. Without even asking permission from Simone, I grabbed the broom in a corner of the room and began to gather the crumbs scattered on the floor. My strategy for waking Gerard consists in knocking furniture everywhere I can: at the legs of the table, chairs, against the baseboards... Not a square centimetre escapes the boosted broom. After a few tens of seconds, Gerard, half drowsy, arrives in the kitchen saying:
“Maybe we’ll go, right?”
Mission accomplished! I rejoice internally. I feel like doing a little victory dance with the broomstick. But hey… I don’t.
“It’s better to leave early, you never know,” he adds. “You wouldn’t want to miss your train, would you?”
“I absolutely agree with you!” I said with undisguised enthusiasm, already putting on my coat.
“Well, not already? It’s barely 4 o’clock!” wonders Simone. “At least wait until I make you a little sandwich. Tonight you’re bound to be hungry on the train. And when you arrive, the stores may be closed.”
“My dear wife, are you stupid or what? She’s going to London! Not to Alaska! Everything is open until late.”
“Even so! I had promised Mary to take care of her daughter if anything happened to her. I’ll make you a sandwich and you’ll leave afterwards! Understood?”
Gerard doesn’t say a word. Neither do I. Mom had left instructions. Definitely. It’s only me she didn’t say anything to, my goodness!
Sadness resurfaces. I pull out a chair, let myself fall on it miserably and wait while Simone makes my snack. I don’t even hear her when she asks me if I like everything, I mumble a “Hm,” which she surely takes for a yes.
“And, there you go!” she said, handing me a sandwich wrapped in aluminium foil. “Put it in your bag!” She also gives me a banana, an apple and a small bottle of water.
“Wait, I’ll see if we have any packets of crisps left.”
“It’s not necessary, Simone, this is already a lot,” I said, trying to get it all into my bag. “I have no more room, look!”
“Reminds me of when I used to prepare the kids’ picnic when they were little.”
“But Madeline is no longer a child, you were the one who said that a little earlier,” retorts Gerard, proud of his repartee.
Simone doesn’t flinch. Discreetly, she hands me a packet of cakes, while signalling me to be quiet. I smile at her. Without warning, she pulls me against her to hug me. I suddenly stiffened. No one has ever touched me so spontaneously in ages. I didn’t expect it.
“Be careful, huh?” she said, releasing me.
“Why don’t you come with us to the station?”
“No, my dear! I’m car sick. I prefer to stay here. You’ll send us a little text message when you arrive, won’t you?”
“Of course. Thank you for everything, the funeral, the chickens and the house.”
“It’s normal. Have a good trip. I’m texting you the contact details of our children, Philip and Marina. And I’ll allow myself, if you don’t mind, to give them yours.”
“Yes, do as you see fit,” I said a bit in a hurry.
“Ah, women, real talkers. Alright, shall we set off, Madeline?”
“Yes, let’s go.”
Simone grabs my arm for a final hug. I relax a little this time, feeling the warmth of her embrace. I close my eyes and imagine it’s mom holding me in her arms. The emotion overwhelms me instantly. She grabs a packet of tissues lying on the hall sideboard, saying:
“They can be useful. Put them in your pocket.”
“Thanks,” I said, sniffling.
“See you soon. Come on, go!”
Simone watches the car pull away, waving at us until it disappears completely from view. We pass the stone wall of my house. My heart tightens in my chest. I have a strange feeling. What if I never come back...
- Writer
