Page 21 of Touch the Sky

I’ve talked the whole thing over with my mom at least three times since she arrived. Even if I hadn’t wanted to discuss it, Shel would have made that impossible. She’s been raving about all her décor ideas for the ‘aesthetic’ loft nonstop.

My mom has the same concerns I do, mainly that moving in with virtual strangers raises a few red flags. There’s a lot I don’t know about the Gauthiers, and we’d be sharing a kitchen. I’d sign the lease in a heartbeat if it was just for me, but I’m not about to take a leap of faith when it comes to Shel’s safety.

Then there’s the matter of Jacinthe.

Barring whatever weird moment happened when she grabbed my arm and her eyes seemed to swallow me whole, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m far from her favourite person in the world. All I’ve told my mom is that Jacinthe seems uncertain of me and I’m not sure how sharing a house would go.

Of course, my mom came up with an annoyingly simple solution for that problem: go talk to Jacinthe about it.

It would be the practical, adult thing to do, especially considering she’s one of my clients. I could tell Jacinthe I’m serious about the lease and ask to meet up to go over any concerns either of us might have.

Only I can’t stop thinking about that moment when she grabbed my arm.

I also can’t stop thinking about her eyes.

“It was nothing,” I say into the silence of the truck’s cab. “It was just a weird, dumb moment. I was totally out of it, and she surprised me. There’s no reason for me to chicken out on a perfect living situation just because of how nice I think a girl’s eyes are.”

The paper on my dashboard slides a couple inches closer as I hit a bend in the road.

“A girl who doesn’t even like me!” I add.

This is all so stupid. I swore off dating after the one and only relationship I’ve been in since Shel was born blew up in my face.

I haven’t even kissed a woman in three years. The few random hook-ups I tried to sprinkle into my schedule since calling it quits on dating were never worth it, so eventually, I just went cold turkey.

“Or cold pussy, maybe,” I mutter, indulging my own dumb joke with a laugh.

Maybe that’s why this whole ‘staring deep into Jacinthe’s eyes’ thing has been haunting my thoughts. Maybe it was the sheer physical proximity of another queer woman and nothing more.

The thought brightens my mood.

I can handle a fleeting moment of random horniness. I’m not going to fuck my life up and become a terrible parent over that.

I’m not going to lose sight of what matters: Shel, and giving her the best life possible now that we’re finally out on our own.

When the now-familiar turn-off for La Cloche comes into view up ahead, I don’t hesitate. I flick my turn signal on and follow the route almost all the way into town before relying on memory to get me over to La Grange Rouge.

The signature red roof glints like a ruby folded into the green satin of the pastures. A few horses are out grazing, tails flicking to keep away the last of the summer flies.

There’s only one car in the driveway when I pull up to the house: a rusting old Toyota hatchback, with no sign of the truck Jacinthe careened into the farmyard with during my first visit here last week.

I’m starting to wonder if I should have called when Gabrielle steps out the front door onto the porch. She doesn’t spot me at first, and it only takes a couple seconds of me watching her try to limp down the stairs with a grimace on her face before I’m sprinting over to ask her what’s wrong.

“Tess!” she says, her expression caught somewhere between shocked and pleased. “This is a nice surprise! What are you doing here,ma belle?”

“I, uh, was hoping to talk to Jacinthe,” I answer. My face gets hot as I realize what a long shot this was. “I’m sorry to bother you. Are you, um, okay?”

She looks confused for a moment before she bends forward to give her thighs a light slap.

“Oh, these old things? My legs are just extra stiff today. I have multiple sclerosis. Some days are good. Some days are bad, but that’s just life,hein?”

“Oh,” I say, like a complete idiot.

I caught enough of her conversations with Jacinthe the day we met to figure she must have something going on with her health, but I’d forgotten all about it by the time I came back to see the rental unit.

“Sorry to hear today is a bad day,” I add.

“Ah, I’ve had worse.” She shrugs and grins at me, but her usually sun-kissed skin looks pale. “Now, you say you’re here to see Jacinthe?”