Page 88 of Your Echo
24Weight in Gold || Gallant
STÉPHANIE
I think we should talk.
I stare down at the text message on my phone. I sent it five hours ago, and I’ve yet to receive a reply.
You took almost two weeks to respond to him, I remind myself.At least give him a day.
Part of me wonders whether I should expect him to reply at all. He might have decided we’re better off without each other, and I can’t help thinking that maybe he’d be right.
After I really thought about it, I realized all of Ace’s cryptic behaviour—all the shadows that seem to haunt him and all those monster in his head—probably stems from the same moment the monsters crept intomyhead. We were two children who saw something terrible happen and spent the rest of our lives trying to cope.
Is being together the best thing for us? Shouldn’t broken people look for someone whole?
I’ve never laughed the way I have when I’m with him, though. I’ve never felt so hard or somuch.It was like I was an empty cave and he filled me with fire, the flames leaping and lighting up depths inside of me I didn’t know were there.
Guita was right. I attached a meaning to the boy in the window. I gave the moment more significance than it deserved. Like Poe said, I multiplied the image of my sorrow. I had so much grief and rage inside me I had to pin it on something else.
The Ace I know isn’t that little boy. It took me a long time after listening to Guita before I could truly accept that, but I did what she said. I made the choice. I changed my perspective, and what I saw left me stunned.
Ace isn’t the source of my pain; he’s possibly the only person in the world who can truly understand it. He shares it, and for the brief time we were together, he made me feel like I could overcome it. He’s a tie to my past, but I’m starting to believe he could also be a key to my future.
Everything is still so muddled I don’t know the difference between up and down, but I don’t want to work it out alone anymore. Even if we decide it’s too much and go our separate ways, I want to make that choice with him. I need him beside me. I need his voice in my ears and the pressure of his hand in mine.
“Merde,” I curse under my breath, realizing I just missed my bus stop.
I’m on my way to dinner with my mom, and I watch helplessly as a few blocks speed by before the bus stops again. A text pings on my phone as I trudge back towards the apartment. I whip it out of my pocket only to feel my heart sink when I see the message is fromMaman.She’s asking if I’m almost there and ready to see the surprise.
She’s been going on and on about whatever ‘surprise’ it is she has for me tonight. I got her to drop enough hints that I know it’s something about the apartment. I hope she hasn’t had to have another plumber in. Neither of us can afford it.
When I finally knock on the door, she opens it up with a huge smile on her face.
“Finalement!” she exclaims, lifting her arms out for a hug. “You’re late.”
I pull back and find her still smiling as wide as before.
“Maman, are you...wearing makeup?”
She’s definitely got some mascara and lip gloss on. Even her hair looks like she’s paid more attention to it than usual, and silver dangly earrings are swinging from her ears.
“What? I can’t get dressed up for dinner with my daughter?” she demands.
“Of course you can,” I reply, bemused. “Am I...missing something here?”
She’s still grinning at me with a weird kind of expectancy. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was high as a kite.
“Not at all, not at all.” She wheels herself away from me. “Come and see the surprise! Well, one of the surprises.”
She literally cackles to herself, and I consider asking her if she’s accepted any brownies from strangers lately. She leads us towards the bathroom, and I have to hold back a groan. I knew she must have had the plumber in again. Passing off a repaired pipe as a fun ‘surprise’ sounds just like her idea of always looking on the bright side of things.
She flips the light switch on, and I gasp.
“Maman...Maman...”
“Isn’t itmagnifique?”
She sweeps her arms around the transformed space. It’s the bathroom of her dreams, the one she’s always talked about building. My uncle did his best trying to make it accessible for her when we first moved in, but the modifications were shoddy at best, and there was always something going on with the plumbing. I remember all the timesMamanwould show me pictures on the internet of ‘what she’d do if she had the money.’
