Page 8 of In the Long Run
How can being somewhere feel so right and so wrong at the same time?A quick glance up at Eugene pulls me back to this moment.Pain etches itself across his face but it’s duelling for dominance with fatigue.He’s already told me he didn’t get much sleep between all the observations and the post-surgery meds.
‘Nothing.Just wanted to make sure you know we aren’t in a hurry,’ I say.
‘I just need a minute,’ he says.‘The fresh air is helping.’
When I was fourteen and had my first girlfriend, Eugene satme down and gave me a long overdue chat about the birds and the bees.I’d been washing my own sheets for a year by that stage.But Eugene’s ‘talk’ wasn’t only about the importance of verbal consent and STIs and condoms.It morphed into a life lesson about being emotionally present for the people who were important to me.How to recognise that everyone has different needs.Some people respond best to tough love.Others do better with a gentle hand.It’s a skill I was incredibly grateful for when I took command of my first battery.
And right now, I suspect Eugene needs to feel like he has some control over his life.I could help him into the car and have us on the road in less than two minutes, but this isn’t about me.I lean the crutches against the car, stand and reach for the two Alizée’s branded thermos cups I left in the centre console.‘Why don’t we take a break?’
Eug’s eyes open and he accepts the coffee I offer him.‘Did you go to Alizée’s?’
I’ve been avoiding the pâtisserie, which is silly.Celeste, my ‘sister from another mister’ as she describes herself, has been harassing me to stop by and see her.But the idea of going there, knowing nothing’s really what it seems?That pokes at an old wound I’d prefer to continue ignoring.
‘I made these at home after taking Madeleine and Chouquette out for a run this morning.They loved it, and hopefully it tired them out.’I don’t mention that my eyes had been in surveillance mode, looking for the woman who’d traipsed into my dreams last night, scowled at me and literally told me to jog on.I’m such a sadist that Istillwoke up with a hard-on.
My reaction to dream Gen wasn’t really a surprise though.Even if it’s been a long time since I’ve been so attracted to a woman.The irony of her being Brand Bolton’s ex isn’t lost on me either.Because she’s not the first woman we’ve had in common,even though I had nothing to do with his high school girlfriend dumping him.
‘We can stop and get you a real coffee if you’d like?’
Eugene’s expression turns wistful.‘Nah.This will do.Thanks, mate.’
We drink quietly, letting the traffic noises and the occasionaltick-tick-tickof the nearby pedestrian crossing signal fill the silence between us.As I swallow the last of my coffee, I push away from the car and roll my shoulders.I’ve never been good at staying in one spot for too long.It’s why joining the Army was such an easy decision when I’d needed to get out of Melbourne.Away from all the whispers that followed me everywhere.From the crimes everyone had decided I was guilty of.It’s not like I hadn’t made my own share of mistakes, though.
‘It’s never going to be the same again,’ Eug murmurs, dragging me away from the unpleasant memories this city holds for me.His head is bowed towards his chest and his fingers tap against the top of his coffee cup.
‘Your foot?Or …’ I don’t know how to ask the questions that won’t leave my mind.Eugene has been late on so many payments for Alizée’s and as far as I can tell from the bank statements I found, he’s not paying himself a wage anymore.
Eugene nods, his gaze still averted.His breath hitches but he pushes on.‘Doc said I won’t be able to stand for months.How am I going to work?And if I can’t work, what am I going to do?’
‘We’ll figure it out.One step at a time.’As soon as the words leave my mouth, I cringe.
Luckily, the coffee seems to have sparked Eug up.He barks a laugh and shakes his head.‘That wasn’t nice,’ he says.
‘It was an accident!’
‘Yeah, yeah.Let’s try this again.’He gestures towards the car.‘But I’m going to need your help.I’m going to need everyone’s help, especially with Alizée’s.’
That’s an opener too perfect to resist.‘Have you got a plan in mind?’
Eugene doesn’t answer.Instead he makes a big show of focusing on gripping my forearms.We work together to get him upright.He waves away my unspoken offer to pass him the crutches and leans forward, transferring most of his weight to me.He shuffle-hops slowly, one hand leaving my arm to grasp the doorframe.He’s breathing heavily and he’s not the only one.
Even though Eugene is shorter than average, manoeuvring him into the hatchback takes longer than I thought it would.Getting his wheelchair into the boot is a tight squeeze too.
‘I’m thinking about closing Alizée’s and selling the building,’ he says as I settle into the driver’s seat, and I freeze, my seatbelt pulled taut but not fastened.I blink.Try to process what he’s said and figure out how to reply without revealing what I’ve discovered.
‘It’s always quiet in winter, and I do the bulk of the baking.I’m sixty-three.I need to start thinking about what’s next.’He pauses, sniffing loudly and spinning the gold wedding ring that was the first thing he asked me for when the nurses said he could get dressed to leave.
Alizée’s is his life’s work.He named it after his wife.And he has never once – at least as far as I know – looked at another woman in the thirty-five years since she died when they were newlyweds.
‘Why don’t we talk about this more once you’re home?’I say.
‘I like it when you call it that,’ he replies, his eyes drifting shut as he tips his head back, his jaw slackening.
‘Call it what?Home?’I ask.
‘Yeah.I always like having you here, mate.If everything’s about to change, at least I get to have you by my side again for a bit.’
My chest hurts.‘Do you really want to close Alizée’s?’
