Seeing Jen leave is hard. It’s funny and weird how in such a short time, she became a calming factor for me. It’s like with her I don’t have to worry about being who I am, showing her who I am.
“Monsieur Wills?” The doctor in charge of Benji’s grandmother’s care calls my name. Both Olivia and I stand up.
“Vous pouvez me suivre,” he says we can follow him, so we do. Olivia clutches her side as if she’s trying not to break down and I know the feeling.
I wish I could reassure her, tell her everything is going to be okay, but I can’t. She sniffles but doesn’t say anything. Grand-mère Julie was so important, is so important for us, and not only because she’s our last link with Benji.
“Cinq minutes.” The doctor opens the door and my chest squeezes so tight I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe normally again. Grand-mère Julie looks so frail, so small, so helpless. She used to stand up to Benji, to keep him in check, to not only coddle him but also to try to give him a sense of direction, of purpose.
Her eyes flutter open. “Lucas, Olivia.” I have to lean in to hear her. I touch her hand and Olivia’s hand carefully falls on her shoulder.
“Les amoureux,” she whispers. “Les amoureux…” The lovers, that’s what she used to call us when we were sixteen and stealing kisses in her kitchen.
“Benjamin.” Her voice cracks. “Mort.” She remembers Benji is dead and that shatters my heart.
“Ça va aller, Grand-mère Julie. Ça va aller.” Olivia caresses her forehead, and then she glances at me with the saddest smile. Her mouth opens and she sings one of the first songs I ever wrote. It was a song about falling in love. At the time, I thought she and I would be together forever.
Grand-mère Julie closes her eyes and smiles, so I join Olivia in singing.
Hoping that Grand-mère Julie pulls through.