Page 7

Chapter 6

Kitty

Mom got the call from Guy’s grandmere as we were about to leave for a school event one September evening. Eva was going to die soon. Our whole family threw clothes in bags, got in the car with our passports, and drove through the night to be there. Mom told off the school secretary in grand fashion when she argued that we’d be penalized for missing school unplanned.

We lived on gas station coffee and roller dogs. Mom, Dad, and Frank traded off driving. It was significantly more frightening with a caffeinated Frank behind the wheel. Mom kicked him out of the driver’s seat after an hour.

When we got there, Mom went straight for Eva’s room, while Frank and Guy hugged it out. I waited my turn. No matter what had transpired over the summer, I wasn’t about to lay a big smooch on Guy. He gave me a big bear hug.

“Thanks for being here.” His breath was warm against my hair. His accent was back to being thicker again. Through the year he spent in West Virginia, it had faded some. It was back in full force.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I whispered under his crushing embrace. An hour or so later, Mom came out of Eva’s room and ushered the rest of us in there. Guy took my hand as we went in. He was used to seeing her, but he knew I wasn’t. Eva looked about as bad as you expect someone dying of cancer to look. Her face was gaunt, her already petite frame just skin and bones. But around her eyes, I could still see the soft kindness that was her baseline mood. We all took a turn giving her hugs.

“Kitty, I want to talk to you alone, ma puce ,” she said, her voice weak and crackly. I gave her a smile as everyone else shuffled out. Guy fussed over her in French before she shooed him away.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Like death,” she said, deadpan. We both laughed, not because her dying was funny, but because her honesty was. “I am so happy I got to know you, Kitty. I always wanted a little girl, and our talks last year gave me a taste of what it would be like. Thank you for that.”

“Of course,” I said. “I loved that time with you.”

She took a breath. “We talked a little about boys and matters of the heart, but I think there was something you didn’t want me to know.”

I panicked. I’d told her I had an unwarranted bad reputation, but I never told her it was Guy’s fault. I wasn’t planning on leaking that while she was on her deathbed either.

I looked at her sidelong. “What do you think that is?”

“I think you and Guy are meant for each other. And I think you know that.”

I was quiet for a moment. “I know he did you wrong, Kitty. And that you forgave him.”

I nodded. “I did.”

“I hate that he hurt you. He told me what he did and he feels terrible about it. But I really think he loves you.”

I gave a soft snort. “He told me he does.”

She exhaled and looked to the heavens. “ Dieu merci . He’s not as stupid as I feared. I was afraid he had too much of his father in him, a hockey boy screwing anything on legs. Guy dates all these girls, but they don’t fit him like you do.”

My stomach turned at the thought of who else he might be dating, but her words made me feel a little better. “But we live so far apart.”

“Yes, ma cherie , but you might not always. You’re young. You’ll live your life and sow your oats, but I want you to at least try to come together at some point. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I’m on a lot of drugs. But I’ve known this for a while. Can you promise me you will try for each other?”

Her eyes were serious.

“Have you told him this?”

“He knows.” She winced in pain and grabbed for my hand. I let her grip me tightly, until her wave of pain seemingly passed.

“Yes, Maman. I’ll try.”

“Good.” She squeezed my hand.

“He calls me ma puce , too. What does it mean?”

“Oh?” Eva’s eyes brightened. “He knows more than he shows. It means ‘little flea.’ You either use it to talk sweetly to a little girl or to a girlfriend who you love very much.”

I laughed. “He probably thinks I’m just a little girl.”

“I don’t think so. But my boy has made mistakes with you before. He might be a stupid boy, too.” We laughed together like we had so many times on her porch as the sun went down. The weight of the fact that she was almost gone pressed in.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I said, tears filling my eyes.

“I know. But it’s my time. I know you and your family will look after my Guy,” Eva said. “We almost stayed in a town north of Charleston, you know. Guy was the one who made me go more south. If we hadn’t, we would not have you Gattos.”

I got chills from her saying that. The two of them had been such a force since they entered our lives. I told her I loved her and left her to rest. When I went back into the living room, I found a face I didn’t recognize. A girl. A very pretty girl.

“Kitty, this is Elise,” Guy said. “My girlfriend.”

The room felt hot. I wanted to puke. I wanted to run. Guy and I texted, but we always talked about stupid stuff: inside jokes, videos, memes. Never anything substantial like boyfriends or girlfriends. But I wasn’t there to flirt with Guy, or kiss Guy. I was there to be a good friend to him, and to say goodbye to Eva.

“Hi,” I croaked, extending my hand for a shake. Her perfectly manicured hand barely held mine for a second. I did my best to make small talk. I was distracted by taking in her features. Of course Guy would go for someone so pretty and polished. She looked like she came from the Pretty Girl Store, not a hair out of place, generically beautiful. It almost made me want to be more of the gritty, sarcastic, biting person that I was. I wanted to cover myself in tattoos and piercings to prove how opposite I was of what he really liked. I wasn’t even a tattoo or piercing person. I just felt like I had to rebel somehow to show my feelings were definitely, 100% not hurt.

Then I remembered what Eva and I had discussed and realized I needed to give it a shot. She was right. We’d go our own ways, and I had to accept it. We thought we’d never see each other again when he left West Virginia. He was free to date people, and so was I. But my heart felt like it could never love anyone but him.

Still, I breathed a little easier after Elise went home for the evening. She tried to kiss Guy inside, but he rushed to give her a hug and push her out the door. A small victory for me, even though I knew I had no right to him. We weren’t really expecting to see each other again.

In the night, Guy came into the room I was sharing with Mom. Silent tears wet his face.

“I think she’s going,” he said, fear in his voice. Mom and I leapt up and ran to Eva’s room, joining Guy at her bedside. Grandmere was already there, making continued signs of the cross as Eva’s breathing got more labored. I’d never been there when someone died. I was scared. Mom sat next to Grandmere. Guy held one of Eva’s hands, and I held his other hand. He whispered things to her in French, continually kissing her hand.

With one final gasp, Eva breathed her last. Grandmere led us in a Hail Mary in French. Mom and I mumbled along in English. Guy laid his head on her bed and sobbed, not letting go of my hand. When he sat up, I pulled him into my chest and held him there. I wanted to absorb his pain, to somehow carry it for him.

Mom closed Eva’s eyes and kissed her best friend’s forehead one last time. Then she opened the window. I glared at her, confused.

“To let her soul leave,” Mom said. “A country thing. I’ll make the calls.” She stopped to kiss Guy on the head and pat his back before quietly leaving the room. I started to stand to leave, too, but Guy pulled me down.

“Stay. Please.” His eyes were so desperate, heartbreaking. And so I stayed while the undertaker came. I sat with Guy as he sat with his grief. Grandmere left the room when the undertaker did, leaving me with Guy and the empty bed.

“Do you want to go outside?” I asked him. He nodded.

It was cold. September in Quebec was a different affair than September in West Virginia. He draped a spare jacket around my shoulders as we sat on the top step of the porch. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his own jacket pocket.

“Those things’ll kill you,” I mused.

“Good,” he grumbled.

“Guy.” I took his hand.

“I know. I’m not going to do anything. I just have no one now. Papa left. Maman’s gone. I have no parents.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and let silence fall between us. “It’s not the same, but you’ll always have me.”

He leaned into me, putting his head on my shoulder. I put my arm around him, letting him feel me as his cigarette’s scent filled the crisp air. “I wish you could stay. I don’t want you to go home.”

“Me, too,” I said. “I could watch you play hockey with people who actually fit your skill level. And brush up on my French.”

He laughed softly. “Your French is terrible, ma puce . You’d be silent up here.”

“Don’t think I won’t tell you to fuck off just because you’re grieving,” I said, flicking his leg. He chuckled and put his hand on my knee. I held out my hand for the cigarette. “Give me a hit of that.”

“No. You have to stay healthy so you can wipe my butt when we’re old,” he said with a sad smirk.

“Who says you’re not wiping my butt? You’re the athlete. You’ll probably be in better shape when we’re old.”

“Nah. I push my body too hard. I’ll fall apart way sooner.”

“Make a bunch of money playing hockey so we can pay someone to wipe our butts,” I decided.

“Works for me.”

It was a strange conversation to be having when someone too young had just died, not even getting the chance to grow old. And Guy had a girlfriend. I didn’t want to bring up what Eva had asked of us, but his words implied we’d be together in the end. I was trying to go along with whatever he wanted to talk about. I was devastated, too, but it wasn’t my mother. I still had both of my parents.

“I’m tired,” Guy said finally, crushing out his cigarette.

“Let’s get you to bed.” I stood and offered him my hand. I headed for the door, but before I could open it, Guy pulled me to him.

“I don’t want to be alone. I’ve been sleeping in her room every night,” he said. “Will you come with me?”

“Sure.” My parents might have freaked if they got up and found the two of us in bed together. I left a little note on the kitchen counter to say “I’m with Guy.” We left Guy’s bedroom door open so they’d know we weren’t messing around.

We didn’t bother brushing our teeth. We were both gross, but I followed Guy’s lead. He was the bereaved. We faced each other again in bed like we had when we fell asleep on the beach before everything went sideways. Guy cried more, and I stroked his hair.

His body had stilled so much that I thought he was already asleep, but he cracked his eyes open.

“I love you, Birdy.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

His thumb brushed my cheekbone, holding my jaw, his barely-open eyes looking into mine. He planted a soft, cigarette-flavored kiss on my lips. I rested my hand on his cheek as we tasted each other. It wasn’t going anywhere. Sweet and gentle. Just us showing our love. Just one kiss. Then another on my forehead. And then he succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep.

P a rt 2 : The Rush