“Yeah?”
“Peux-tu...juste...rester?”
The last word got drowned out in a yawn. She muttered something that didn’t sound like actual words after that, but I’m sure I caught the first bit.
Could you just stay?
I wasn’t about to be the guy who jumps into bed with the drunk girl, even to do nothing but sleep, but I couldn’t say no to her. I couldn’t. I told her I’d be right outside all night.
So here I am, right outside and absolutely clueless about what I’m supposed to do next. I doubt she even remembers saying that. She’ll probably ask me what the hell I’m doing here when she gets up. She’ll probably want me to leave.
I want you.
I grin around the rim of my mug.
Or maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll tell me to stay again. Something happened last night at that table in the wedding hall. She looked at me, and some wall that’s been crumbling flake by flake for years finally came down. I don’t know what happens next, but I do know we’ve reached the point where we get to find out.
I’ve finished my coffee and start to wonder if I should raid the kitchen to silence my growling stomach when DeeDee’s bedroom door inches open. She steps into the living room and freezes like a deer at the sound of a snapping branch when she sees me.
She’s wearing a t-shirt that goes down to her knees and some pink plaid pajama pants. Her hair is an absolute mess, snarled and knotted and sticking out in every possible direction. The remnants of last night’s makeup are still smeared on her face, making her eyes look like a panda bear’s.
And yet she’s stunning. She really is. I’m frozen to the couch as I stare at her, like it’s a divine commandment from the universe that I give this moment the appreciation it’s due.
She blinks a few times before speaking in a croaky voice. “You stayed.”
“I...You asked me to.”
Her face softens. “I remember. I didn’t think you would.”
We stare at each other for a few more seconds, the tension and anticipation rising like the threat of lightning in the air.
Then DeeDee shrieks and looks down at herself.
“Câlice! I look like shit!”
She bolts into the bathroom and slams the door closed before I can protest, leaving me to once again wonder what the hell I’m supposed to do with myself.
When I hear the shower come on, I decide I can’t wait any longer for breakfast. My mother would be fainting away in shame at my lack of my manners if she could see me prowling around my host’s kitchen without their permission, but I figure DeeDee’s roommate already asked if I wanted food, so that should count as enough of an invitation. I slide two pieces of bread into the toaster and have time to slather them with peanut butter and head back to the couch before DeeDee emerges.
Her wet hair is up in a bun on the top of her head, and she’s cleared off all the makeup, leaving her face bare except for her nose ring. I love how much her freckles stand out when she doesn’t have makeup on. It makes me feel like I’m getting to know a secret side of her.
She sinks down onto the couch next to me, still in her pajamas, and snags a piece of toast off my plate.
“Hey!” I protest.
“I bought the bread,” she defends herself after swallowing a bite.
“Fair enough. I’m surprised your hangover hasn’t destroyed your appetite.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t get hung-over. Just hungry.”
“Then I guess we’ll be making more toast. There’s coffee if you want it. Your roommate made it.”
DeeDee pauses mid-bite. “Valérie was here?”
“Yeah. She said she had to get her work clothes.”
She looks around the living room like she’s assessing the scene Valérie must have walked in on.
“What did she say to you?”
“I think I was asleep when she showed up,” I explain. “Then she offered me breakfast and called me a strange boy.”
“Ha!” DeeDee lifts a hand to pat me on the head. “You are a strange boy.”
Her hand stills, but she doesn’t pull it away. She leaves it sitting there, fingers twining into my hair. Our eyes lock. I hold my breath, like a single exhale could break this moment.
“Zach...”
Don’t run. Don’t run from this again. I don’t know if I could take you running away again.
Her hand slides to my cheek. “I’m scared.”
I close my eyes and slowly let my breath out. “I know. Me too.”
I can smell the trace of flowery shampoo in her hair, smell the toothpaste on her breath.
“Is it supposed to be this scary?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. Her fingers are still cupping my cheek. “I think so?”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “Everyone keeps saying it’s supposed to be scary, and no one can tell me why.”
“Because anything that matters is scary.”
It’s the same thing my parents told me when I left home for Montreal, the first of their kids to head out of our small town. I was standing there with my suitcase wondering if I should just haul it back up the stairs when my dad came up behind me and grabbed the handle while my mom hugged me and said those words.
Anything that matters is always going to scare you. That’s how you know it’s real.
“And I matter to you?”
I place my hand over hers and squeeze. “So fucking much—and yes, I’ll swear like a sailor until you believe me.”
She giggles, and I pull my hand away, keeping hers clasped in mine as I let them both drop to the couch. We sit there holding hands while she finishes her half of the toast.
I feel like the sun itself is beating inside my chest.
It says something about the force of my hunger that I actually give up holding hands with DeeDee Beausoleil to go make more toast, but when both our stomachs starts rumbling in unison, I figure it’s necessary. I come back with a heaping plate of slices and a bowl of grapes I found in the fridge.
The tapestry is still pulled over the window, making the whole room look like it’s bathed in a rosy sunrise glow even though it’s almost eleven. DeeDee’s got her legs tucked up under her as she spins that ring she’s always wearing around her finger, two little creases forming between her eyes.
“I’ve always meant to ask you about that.” I gesture at the ring after setting the food down and reclaiming my couch cushion. “You wear it all the time.”
She stops messing around with it and gives me a guilty look, like I’ve caught her indulging a bad habit.
“Ouais. It belonged to my grand-mère.”
She holds her hand out, and I take a closer look at the burnished gold band and blue gem.
“It’s pretty. Were you close with your grandmother?”
She shrugs. “Not really. She died when I was little. She used to scare the shit out of me.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “So why do you wear her ring every day?”
“She told me some important things.”
She catches my curious look and sighs like she’s resigned herself to sharing more of the story.
“She grew up in this cabin in northern Québec, real pioneer-style, you know? No electricity. No running water. It wasn’t even that long ago, but it took a while for them to build stuff like that so far up north. She was always telling me about the wolves.”