“This is very unpleasant for you, Emmie. You just meet all of us and get thrown into this family tragedy. Come now. You should go home.”
I wanted to say something more to both Denise and Vincent’s mother, but I followed him out instead, put on the helmet, and got on the scooter. He started up and away, not saying anything more than “Mon Dieu, what a night!”
When we reached my uncle’s home, I got off and handed him the helmet. He leaned over to kiss me good night. I didn’t kiss him back.
“Stop blaming yourself for something unimportant,” he ordered. “Besides, why do you have to make excuses to Denise?”
“Your cousin is in love with you, Vincent.”
“What?”
“How can you be so blind to it?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Nevertheless, it’s true.”
“She’ll have to grow out of it. I never did anything to give her reason to think I was encouraging such a thing.”
“You didn’t have to. She’s desperate.”
He thought a moment. “Well, what do you suggest?”
“Going slowly,” I said. “Helping her, especially now.”
He shook his head. “Such a sensible young girl. You’ll make me grow up.”
“Is that so terrible?”
He laughed. “I want to see you again and again and again,” he added, smiling more like the Vincent I had first met. “To . . . how did you say . . . till the soil.”
“I’m not in the mood for farming.”
“Not tonight, but tomorrow . . . you know tomorrow?”
“Too well,” I said. “Bonne nuit, Vincent.”
“Bonne nuit. À bientôt,” he called after me. I didn’t look back until I heard him leaving and watched him disappear around a turn.
The skeptical part of me wondered if I would ever hear from him again. Maybe hearing all the truth frightened him.
I headed into the house. Both Maurice and Uncle Alain were sitting in the living room having a late-night cordial. Both looked upset, and for a moment, I thought that they had already heard about Denise’s mother, but then I realized the time. It was nearly twelve forty-five. They were upset at me.
Before either could speak, I began to relate what had happened. Their faces changed quickly, especially Maurice’s, because he knew Denise’s mother.
“She will be okay?”
“Physically,” I said.
“Mon Dieu,” Uncle Alain said. “What a mess for you to be in so soon.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just very tired.”
“D’accord. Go to bed, Emmie. We’ll look into everything in the morning.”
I nodded and went to my room. I felt as if I was walking in my sleep already and b
arely got myself into bed with my eyes open. I thought I would have a hard time falling asleep, but emotional exhaustion was just as tiring as the physical kind. I drifted off quickly and didn’t wake up until I heard someone moving about in the kitchen. I threw on my robe, went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and went out to see Maurice sitting at the kitchenette having coffee and a croissant. Glancing at the clock, I saw I had slept until ten.