Page 11 of A Life Imagined
“We run a service office out there.”
She shook her head.“It’s a disgrace, the way the government’s handled things.I can’t even imagine what it’s like, leaving your homeland, everything you know.And then to end up in a place like that.”
They stopped by a carved stone relief mounted to the wall.In the center of the band, a regal figure stood in a chariot pulled by three servants.
“Do you miss it?Canada?”Elise asked.
“Hmm,” he replied noncommittally.“Tell me about this one.”
As Elise launched into an explanation charting the reign of King Xerxes the Great, Rayan’s mind returned to Quebec.There were things he missed about Montreal—the familiarity of it more than anything.In France, things still had a way of surprising him—customs or words that seemed alien.Montreal tied him to memories of his brother and mother.Being away meant those memories had started to fade, and a part of him was afraid that one day, he’d lose the link completely.
They left the gallery and crossed to the neighboring wing, where the Egyptian antiquities were laid out across multiple rooms.
“It’s strange to be back, if I’m honest,” Elise said as they walked past a row of upright sarcophagi.“I always imagined being on the museum acquisition committee one day, making decisions about funding for exhibits and which pieces to procure.But if I think about it, the chances were so slim.My old colleague, who showed us the shards earlier, he started three years before me, and he’s still in the same department with the same job.Meanwhile, in the eighteen months I’ve worked for Mathias, I’ve selected and purchased more pieces than I did during my entire time here.”
In the corner of the room, a clay burial casket lay open inside a glass cabinet.The outside of the coffin was adorned with rows of stacked hieroglyphs, a story told in tiny sketches of gods, people, and animals.
Rayan stepped closer to peer at the sequence of panels.“You’re happy you took the job, then?”
“It wasn’t my first choice, but I think moving to Calais turned out to be a good thing for me.It was a relief to get away from Paris.”
“Why?”
A deep blush bloomed across her cheeks.“It’s actually incredibly embarrassing,” she said hurriedly.“I’d rather not to talk about it.”
So, there’s something even she won’t talk about.
“What about you?Are you happy you made the move to France?”
He took in her expectant expression.“I guess.”
“But your family—don’t you miss them?”
Rayan felt a familiar clench in his stomach.Every day.
“There’s no one to miss.”
Elise’s forehead furrowed.“I’m sorry.Your parents have passed?”
It was theoretically true.His father might as well be dead, for all he cared.Rayan had almost forgotten they still inhabited the same world, breathed the same air.Rayan had been horrified when he found out Mathias had gone to see him.That broken house, the old man’s trembling hands, those terrible memories.He’d never wanted Mathias to witness the extent of his shame.
Elise seemed to interpret his silence as assent.“Were they from Quebec?”
“Only my father.”
“And your mother?”
“Lebanon.”
She nodded as if that somehow clarified things.“Is that why you help out at the center?”
“Because I inherited a sense of displacement?”
Elise flushed again.“No, I didn’t mean—”
There were parallels, to be sure.It was part of why he’d been drawn to the work.He couldn’t ignore the call of recognition and the hope that he might be able to help someone else’s story end differently.
“How did your mother end up in Canada?”she asked.
