Page 83 of Your Echo
“We good on the price?”
Polo Shirt nods. “It’s steep, but…Shit, these babies are worth it.”
I don’t even try to hide my cringe. He just called my guitarsbabies. I spent years of my life saving for those things. I spentthousandsof dollars. They’ve played to crowds across the country. Two of them went all the way to Europe with me. They’ve been my solace and my torment, the physical representation of the one thing I can’tnotdo.
My passion.
The thought brings me back to that session with Stéphanie in the park. It’s her I think of as I take the cheque. It’s her eyes and her lips and her skin on my skin that steel me as I help carry the guitars downstairs and load them into the waiting car.
Once the business is taken care of and my three most valuable possessions are driving away, I write a cheque of my own and order a ride out to Pointe-Aux-Trembles. I can’t remember the exact address, so I get the driver to drop me off close by. It takes a few blocks of wandering, but eventually I’m at Stéphanie’s mom’s building, paging her apartment.
She answers after a few rings. “Âllo?”
“Salut. This is Ace. I’m, um, Stéphanie’s friend,” I reply in French.
“Ace? Ace Turner?”
“Yes, Ace Turner.”
The lobby door buzzes. I push it open and approach the apartment door. I don’t even have to knock before she’s drawing it back and beckoning for me to come inside. I try not to stare at her wheelchair, but I can’t tear my eyes away.
You, I tell myself.That wheelchair is because of you.
My feet don’t want to go any farther. They want to turn and run as far as they can from this place. They want to carry me to the nearest dark corner and keep me there until I’m at the bottom of a bottle. I’m done running, though. The only thing it ever got me was a fractured rib. It never made anything better, and it’s time to try something that might.
Stéphanie’s mom motions for me to follow her into the living room. I watch her chair wheel along the hardwood floor in front of me. I wonder what her first thought was when she woke up and they told her she’d never walk again.
She must have thought of Stéphanie.
“I have to say, this is very unexpected,” she comments, once we’re both settled.
I clear my throat. I had a speech prepared, but I can’t remember a single word of it.
“Well, uh,MadameCloutier-Hébert, I—”
“Please, call me Jeanette.”
“R—Right,” I stutter. “Jeanette. Well...”
I can’t continue. No words are going to be enough. The cheque in my pocket isn’t going to be enough. There are too many years to cut through. There’s too much pain.
“You’re here because of what happened with Stéphanie.”
My spine goes rigid. I didn’t think she knew. I took her letting me into the apartment as a sign that she doesn’t know who I am yet.
“I...Yes. I am.”
She nods. “I thought something may have happened between you two. I asked her about you the other day, and she almost started crying. She’s been so upset these past few days...”
I’m almost relieved to see her suspicious glare. She doesn’t know. Not yet. I have a few more minutes until she’ll probably be screaming at me to get out of her house.
“I have something you need to hear,” I admit, “but first I want to tell you how much I care about your daughter.”
I’ve never had this kind of conversation in my life. I never thought I’d have to, but here I am in a stuffy living room, trying to convey to someone’s parent how amazing I think her daughter is.
“I know I’ve only known her a few months, but she...She’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I’m sure you can relate. I admire everything about her, and she’s made so much about my life better than I ever thought it could be. I want her to be happy, much more than I want or deserve that for myself. I need you to understand that before I say what I’m about to say next.”
Jeanette looks borderline alarmed right now, but she nods for me to go on.
