Aunt Marguerite was shorter than he remembered, grays shot through her dark hair. Her eyes were his mother's eyes—same shape, same shade of brown. She was holding a small umbrella that wasn't doing much against the heavy rain.
"I was at the service," she said. "In the back. I didn't think your father would—" She stopped. "I didn't want to cause any trouble."
Elliot opened his mouth to say something. Nothing came.
His aunt stepped forward and put her arms around him, and Elliot—who had shaken two hundred hands today without flinching, who had remained beside his father and accepted condolences for six hours, who had not cried once—broke completely.
It was sudden and total, like something structural giving way. He couldn't stop it. Didn't try.
Marguerite held him and said only,"je suis là, je suis là."I'm here, I'm here, as the rain enveloped them.
Elliot got backto his house at 2030 hours.
Shadows filled the room. He didn’t turn on the lights immediately, just stayed in the hallway for a moment letting his eyes adjust, jacket still on, keys in his hand.
He and Marguerite had found a small restaurant near the cemetery, a corner booth where they’d stayed for four hours without either of them suggesting they should leave. She’d talked about his mother as a girl—stubborn, funny, the one who climbed trees and came home with scrapedknees while Marguerite stood at the bottom worrying. His mother in Paris at eighteen, falling in love with a Spanish University student who was all kinds of wrong for her. The summers in Lyon. The way she’d laughed.
Elliot had listened and tried to hold onto every word.
When they finally said goodbye outside the restaurant, Marguerite had held his face in both hands and looked at him.“Tu lui ressembles,”she’d said.You look like her.
He’d driven home feeling equal parts lighter and hollowed out.
Now he sat on his bed in the dark, jacket finally off, tie loosened, still in his dress blues. He should shower. Sleep.
Instead he pulled out his phone.
He'd asked Reed for Hale's number three months after the wedding. He had stared at his phone for ten minutes before finally typing out the message:
Elliot:Need a favor. Can I get Hale's number?
Reed's response came back almost immediately.
Reed:Finally! thought you two were going to dance around this forever
Elliot:It's not like that.
Reed:Sure it's not. hold on
A minute later, a contact card had come through.Mr. Slhuddy. A US number with an international prefix. Elliot snorted and renamed him toHaleimmediately.
Reed:He's deployed right now so he might not answer right away but he'll be happy to hear from you. seriously
Elliot:Thank you.
Reed:Try not to fuck this up, will ya
Elliot had stared at Hale’s number for another twenty minutes before typing.
Elliot:Hey. It's Shaw. Reed gave me your number. Hope that's okay
The response came six hours later.
Hale:Shaw who?
Elliot stared at the screen deadpan.
Hale:Kidding. Probably okay. Let me think about it
