AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My life?” I snap, regretting it immediately.
She shakes her head as if in denial. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Her voice has turned into a mere whisper. “Have you been sleeping in your own bed?”
The words are a blow to my heart, and my hands clench tight at the increasing pressure. “Uhm…”
“I know, Régis.” Her voice breaks and she lets out another of those long sighs as she rubs her legs. “I spoke to your dad.”
“What?” I snap my head, searching her eyes, but she’s looking straight ahead, avoiding my exasperation.
“I don’t think we’ve had such a heart-to-heart in a long time,” she mumbles. “He told me about your punishments. Of where he locked you in, sometimes for hours. He’s a sick man, Régis.” When she finally turns, her eyes are wet with tears. Something fierce flickers through that emerald stare. “I didn’t realize how sick he was until I talked to him.” She sighs on a shudder. “I—I promised myself I wouldn't talk about how sorry I am. Not today. You know this, you know I would give all the money in the world to take back our past together. I know you’ve been in touch with this young graduate who wanted to take on your father’s case. But I’m begging you,chéri, stop fighting us. Your father won’t ever be set free again. He doesn’t deserve your love, Régis. He’s bad, and what he did to you was a sin.”
My heart’s galloping in my chest, and I press my hand against my ribcage to try and get it under control. It’s no use. Hurt and regret make it beat too fast, fear adding that sting that always makes me aware of everything. Of danger. My mother grabs my wrist, and I try to pull back, the touch a burning sting that makes my chest heave. I don’t want thetouch, don’t want it, it’s not good… Then she curls her smaller hand around mine and squeezes a little. Something clicks inside of me, my flesh feeling hot and cold and heavy with sorrow.
“Breathe, my love.”
Breathe. Arthur’s husky voice echoes through my mind. My mother squeezes my hand again. I suck in a big puff of air that expands my entire ribcage expands.
Breathe.
I repeat myself, taking in big gulps of air that make the tremble in my head dissipate slowly.
“Are you feeling better?” She finally asks.
I swallow, then nod. “Yeah.” My voice sounds a little raspy, but we don’t care, both too busy staring down at our intermingled limbs. Time dips.
“So…” My mother shifts in her seat, leaning our hands onto her leg. “You have been sleeping in your own bed then?”
I shake my head, then slowly bring it back to a nod. “Oui.”
She hums, as if she was expecting that answer, then lifts her gaze until it burns onto my face. “With Arthur?”
“What?” My head snaps up, but I can’t avoid the way my cheeks heat. Searching her eyes for something—anything—that helps me understand how on earth she can ask me this question. “This is—” Ridiculous. I want to yell. My cheeks heat with embarrassment and something close to anger. “Has he—” I cut myself off.Has he told you?
That fucking asshole.
Mom gives me a thoughtful shake of her head, then sags a little further back into her seat. “Alright, we’ll figure this out later. Now, tell me about this presentation of yours for thePrix d’Honneur.I’m so proud of you.”
I blink, unsure of what to say. A cocktail of emotions swim through my mind, too slippery for me to grasp and understand. Does she seriously know what I have let my stepbrother do tome? How has he been on my mind ever since I met him, and that I crave to have him near, despite my anxiety?
And if so, is she just parking that subject to discuss school instead?
“Useless boy. Get in there.”
I wince at the memory, but can’t help the way my fingers clench and unclench, missing the grounding feel of metal. I wish Arthur was here.
Swallowing, I force myself to keep up, to keep it cool, to stay strong. “Well, I told you about Mister Montague, who’s been helping me.”
“Yes?” She smiles, radiating a sense of relief I feel too. Talking about my studies is easy. I can do that. Running a hand through my hair, I clear my throat. “Well, he has convinced me to do things a little differently, without it being too innovative. So, instead of giving a traditional presentation in front of the board, with slides and all, I’ll go for interaction. I am thinking of asking other students to read out quotes I’ll randomly hand out to them, and to have them share their opinion on some of the topics to create a discussion.”
My mother cocks her head in thought. “Do you know which other students will be there?”
“No. Why?”
“If you can find out in advance, you can adapt your questions to the most suitable student. To get a better debate rolling.” And just like that, we have reached safer grounds. My mother is sharp in her questions as she challenges me for content. It’s…nice. We discuss my presentation topics, then move to my classes, to the courses I’m taking on. She’s curious, interested, and open-minded. I can really use some of that.
By the time we finally drive through the gates of the family property, the atmosphere in the car is light, and we’ve shared all kinds of topics. Student life, friends, but also new plants they have recently added to their floral collection. And when I hoparound the corridors of the mansion a bit later, followed by Amadou and my luggage, only part of me is surprised to catch sight of the beautiful, giant white bird of paradise that’s waiting for me inside my bedroom.
She did that. For me.
