Page 53 of A Life Imagined
“Mathias,” Rayan said suddenly, his voice pitching.His eyes were fixed on the television behind the bar.
Mathias looked up to see the game had been interrupted by the hourly news bulletin.On the screen were scenes of a city he could re-create with his eyes closed.There was downtown Montreal, the camera panning to a group of armed police officers lined up along Saint Laurent Boulevard.The following series of shots were of buildings cordoned off by yellow police tape.
Mathias strode over to the bar.“Turn on the sound,” he instructed sharply.The man behind the register picked up the remote and pointed it at the screen.
“Days of upheaval following the murder of Montreal mob boss Giovanni Bianchi.The city has descended into chaos, instances of infighting and retaliation occurring too frequently for police to intervene.It’s unsure whether the killings are related or premeditated, but the crime family has pledged to counter any threats to its power…”
Mathias turned and wordlessly made his way out of the restaurant.He began walking down the street, unsure where he was heading.
“Hey.”
He felt a pull at his elbow, and Rayan was beside him, breathing fast.“Do you know what happened?Was it an inside job?”
Mathias came to a stop.He remembered Belkov’s ominous question: “What happens when the whole thing topples over?”
He was struck by an overwhelming urge to return to Montreal.He couldn’t put his finger on why—the logic kept slipping.Mathias had thought he’d shaken the family’s hold on him, but it remained, lurking silently in the background.
He continued toward the house, vaguely aware of Rayan following him.Perhaps a part of him still wanted it—the power, the respect.Knowing which rung on the food chain he occupied.
Mathias reached the front door and scaled the stairs to the bedroom.He heard the thump of Rayan’s footsteps behind him.He took a small case from the wardrobe and began throwing things inside.
Mathias attempted to piece a plan together.There were glaring gaps—getting into the country, for one.Early on, he’d made some inquiries and discovered there were ways around Inspector Allen’s bureaucratic blockade.Remarkable what you could do with money and a decent counterfeit passport.Still, that would take time.
What he would do when he got there was another matter altogether.Belkov had alluded to the rumors that had circulated in Mathias’s absence, and Mathias wasn’t sure what influence he had left in the city.And then there was this: the life he’d made in Calais.
“It’s not your fight anymore,” Rayan said from the doorway.
Mathias whirled around.“And a hell of a lot of choice I had there!Giovanni made sure of that.”
Saying his name aloud sent Mathias’s thoughts spiraling.He didn’t know why news of the man’s death brought him no satisfaction.Instead, it stirred a feeling akin to grief.
“Is that why we couldn’t go back?”Rayan asked.
“It doesn’t matter now.”
Rayan stepped into the room.“Mathias, no good will come from you returning to Montreal.”
“You don’t fucking get it,” Mathias snarled.“My whole life, I was a burden no one wanted.But I was someone there—more than my name, more than my history.”
“The closest thing you had to a family.”
Mathias froze, his hand on the zipper of the suitcase.He knew then why he’d been compelled into action.He felt it still—the need to act when his family was threatened.
“But they pushed you out, remember?”Rayan said.“That’s not what a real family does.”
“A real family?”Mathias sneered.“And what exactly does that look like?”
Rayan stood before him, searching his face.“This.”
Mathias blinked.He recalled those paralyzing few weeks after they’d arrived in France.He had found himself unable to leave the house, the mere act of lighting a cigarette sapping the strength from his bones.He’d been felled by the past that had come to haunt him.Because, despite all he’d fought for and grown and accomplished, the family had cast him aside, just as his father had done—that first cardinal rejection.Mathias hadn’t realized the hurt ran so deep until it stopped him in his tracks.
Yet it hadn’t consumed him.Because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t alone.And moving forward was as much an obligation to Rayan as it was to himself.
“I don’t need you to prove that you’re better or more deserving.You don’t need to prove anything to me,” Rayan said, his voice tight.“You think because your parents didn’t want you that you’re not worthy?”
Mathias felt a jolt as Rayan brushed against an open sore he had no business touching.“Don’t—”
“Fuck them,” Rayan whispered.“You are.Not by surpassing your father or your brothers and not because of some rank or title.You’re worthy exactly as you are.”
