When I wake up, sweat coats my entire body. I’m not tending to a wound and hearing the sound of men dying around me, calling out for their mothers. I’m not hearing the sound of gunfire. No, instead my eyes blink slowly, adjusting to a white ceiling. A few seconds pass before it truly sinks in that I’m home. In Charleston. In my room, lying on the floor.
But I’m safe.
Then a pretty redhead blocks my view of the ceiling.
“Shit,” I say, jolting at her sudden appearance.
“Oh, good. You’re up,” Serene says dryly.
Rolling onto my side, I prop myself onto my elbow and peer up at my sister-in-law through half-lidded eyes. “What are you doin’ here?”
Standing up straight, she looks down at me. “The better question is why have Étienne and I been banging on the front door for the past ten minutes?”
“I’m not receivin’ guests at the moment,” I grumble.
“Well, it’s a good thing your brother and I are family and not mere guests then, right?” Serene says as she walks across the room and jerks open the curtains.
Bright light seeps into the room, making my headache grow exponentially. “Are you tryin’ to kill me? Close the curtains,” I groan as I lie on my back and place a forearm over my eyes.
The rapid movement makes my stomach feel queasy, and even though my eyes are closed, the room around me begins to spin as though I’m on a boat.
Serene’s heels click against the floor as she approaches. Thankfully, she’s not wearing a strong perfume like some women wear. That would probably send me over the edge.
Sighing, she nudges my thigh with her foot. I open one eye in time to see her point at her very large stomach. “Obviously, I can’t bend down to your level. But I can try to help you up.”
I’m not entirely muddled from last night where assistance from an expectant woman is needed. I do have some pride left. Very slowly and carefully, I sit up, resting my back against the bed frame. Curling my arms around my knees, I let my hands dangle between my legs and stare at the wood floor that has felt the brunt of many Lacroix ancestors’ footsteps.
They’ve achieved so much … Unlike you, I think to myself.
I lift my head. “What can I do for you, Serene?”
Serene begins to walk around the room. I expected her to see the state it was in and have a look of disgust on her face, but she doesn’t. Her hand curls around the bedpost as she picks up a dirty shirt off the floor. She searches for a place to put it and chooses a chair in the corner. With her hands on her hips, she looks down at me with no judgment or disdain. It’s almost as though this setting is one she’s not surprised to see.
“Neither Étienne nor I have heard from you, and we were getting worried.”
“I’m not a child.”
Serene scoops up a pair of pants with the toe of her shoe. She snatches the material and lets it dangle between her fingers before she gives me a pointed look. “You were saying?”
I tilt my head to the side as a lazy grin comes across my face. “Want to do my laundry, darlin’?”
“Get one of the many ladies in love with you to do it, Lacroix,” she replies and throws my pants in my face.
I nearly gag at the smell and toss the pants away from me when Étienne walks into the room. Unlike Serene, he appears less than pleased at the state of my room. His permanent scowl grows deeper until his brows are nearly touching.
Groaning, I rest my head against the bed. “Does anyone in this family knock?”
“Yes,” my twin replies. “We did. For quite some time. And when you didn’t answer, we let ourselves in.” Étienne crosses his arms over his chest and levels a contemplative look my way. “You missed the memorial.”
Of course, I did. No one knows I missed the memorial more than I do. When I cannot get the dark thoughts to leave my head, I drink and drink and drink until there’s nothing left to think about. Until what my close friend’s final moments could’ve been cannot find a way into my mind.
“Étienne choked on Miles.”
Slowly, I lift my head. “Excuse me?”
Étienne narrows his eyes at his wife. “You promised me you wouldn’t say a word.”
“Yes, but some things are too good not to share.” Serene gives her attention to me. “When Rainey and her mom began to spread some of Miles’s ashes along The Battery, the wind picked up, and the ashes went with it. Étienne here chose that moment to yawn and then choked on Miles.”
“Are they allowed to do that?” I regard the two of them. “Spread ashes?”
Étienne sternly regards his wife, but a reluctant grin tugs at his lips. “No, but only Miles’s closest friends were there, and you know how he enjoyed the water.”
It’s such a preposterous story and happened to the most aloof man I know. In spite of my blinding headache and overall ill health, I can still find the humor from the picture Serene paints, and I grin.
She smiles back. “Thought you would get a kick out of the story.”
Étienne arches a brow. “Serene, can you please focus on Livingston and not me. Please?”
She shakes her head as though to clear her mind and claps her hands. The sound vibrates through my head. “Right. Back to Livingston.” She points a finger at me. “Why did you not go?”
“I had a date with …” I see the empty bottle on the floor and pick it up. Focusing on words hurts my eyes. “An-go-stur-a,” I pronounce slowly. I spin the bottle around, and when I see the profile of a man at the bottom, I squint. “My, that woman has masculine features.”
Étienne snatches the bottle from my hands and shakes his head. “That’s Franz Joseph I of Austria.”
“My God, that explains the mustache.”
Étienne swears and drops the empty bottle. Instead of breaking, it clanks loudly onto the hardwood floor and slowly rolls beneath the bed.
I’m far too slow-moving to reach for the bottle, and my head won’t stop aching. Groaning, I close my eyes. “Now why did you go and do that?” I drawl. “There could’ve been one last drink in the bottle.”
Upon opening my eyes, I find my brother staring at me with barely contained indignation. I grin.
“Serene,” Étienne says, his voice tight. “Can you leave my brother and me for a moment?”
“Of course,” she says. Before my sister-in-law leaves the room, she glances at me. She doesn’t try to mask the sadness in her eyes. In recent times, that’s an expression Serene gives me frequently.
Once she’s gone, Étienne sighs and sits in the chair in the corner of the room. He sits back, crossing one leg on top of the other.
“As pleasant as this strained silence is, what is on your mind, Étienne? I have a bed to sleep in.”
Suddenly, Étienne leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He steeples his fingers together and stares thoughtfully at the floor. “Precisely how long shall this go on?”
“Shall what go on?”
Étienne kicks the toe of his boot toward the direction of my bed where the empty liquor bottle rolled underneath. “That.”
“That has been goin’ on for quite some time,” I say with a grin.