Page 84 of Phantom
“Mon amour, please go—”
“And what they did to you,mon pauvre fils. Solomon…youwould be different. Your face—”
“Maman,c’est assez. That’s enough,” Sol scolds quietly but she twists to face me again while her voice rises in pitch.
“H-He was here for holiday. Homesick. He should’ve stayed with his brother. It all changed—”
“Maman!” Letting go of her hands, he immediately cups her face to get her to look at him. He speaks French in his low, comforting bass as he tries to catch her frantic gaze.
Her wide eyes narrow, and for a split second I think she’s going to calm down again, but she rears back and slaps his face. The mask side.
I glimpse red skin before he twists away from us both. Valérie screeches, looking as if she’s fighting with herself over being horrified, or maybe even sorry, but it’s all in French, so I have no idea what she’s saying.
Maggie curses and pastes a saccharine smile on her face to comfort her teary child. “Marie, let’s go see your great-great-great-great grandma, ’kay?”
Maggie scurries farther into the depths of the cemetery, and I stand awkwardly, at a loss of what to do. Ben seems to finally snap out of it as his brother rights his mask. My gaze darts anywhere but on Sol, trying to give him privacy.
When he’s finished, the Bordeaux sons lead their mother in a practiced, solemn march as they carefully escort her out of the cemetery. Ben holds one of her arms, while Sol holds the other and presses his mask against his face with his free hand. Despite everything, Sol faintly sings “La Vie en rose” in French, the same song Mrs. Bordeaux was singing when we walked up, and she visibly relaxes against him.
My feet are lead as I follow slowly behind them, my heart breaking for the pain Sol bears every time his mother is around, never knowing what the day—or even the next moment—will be like. The knots in my stomach writhe like snakes and I feel as if I’m going to be sick. Unable to take it anymore, I lean against one of the tall wrought iron gates surrounding the raised tombs, not caring that the sun has heated it like a fire poker. I welcome the distraction, even though it burns.
A rustling behind me catches my attention.
“Holy shit.Lettie? Is that you?”
Scene 22
BRITTLE AT THE EDGES
Scarlett
My childhood friend’s shocked baritone reaches my ears and I whirl around to find a concerned expression furrowing his brow, coming straight for me. He envelopes me in a hug, and I pat his back while trying not to inhale his stifling gardenia scent.
“Rand? What’re you doing here?”
“I… I visit my family’s tomb on Sundays,” he explains before letting me go and towering over me barely two feet away.
His parents died in a car accident on the Pontchartrain Expressway when Rand was a teenager, and from what my dad told me when I got older, his brother hung himself not long after. So tragic.
“I’m so sorry about Laurent, Rand. I know I never talked about it—”
“How could you?” he asks with a shrug, that charming smile back on his handsome face. “We never talked about it in our emails. And then you stopped writing.”
“I’m sorry.” I wince. “When my father found out, he made me stop responding.”
A huff escapes him. “It’s too bad your father didn’t understand what we had. Loyalty.” My lips purse at his assessment until Rand backtracks. “Not to say your dad wasn’t loyal, of course, but I don’t think he’d ever had whatwehad.”
He steps forward and I glance around to see if anyone can see us. IknowI’m doing nothing wrong, but Sol and Rand don’t like each other. There’s no way Sol will appreciate us being together like this.
“I really should go, Rand. I’m sorry—”
“Wait.” He grabs my forearm and pulls me close. His blue eyes are tense as he searches my face. “How are you? I’ve called you nonstop all weekend only to go directly to voice mail. Haven’t you been getting my messages? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick about you since I heard you overdosed.”
Ugh. Thatword. I hate it so much but I swallow down my pride. It is technically what I did, but it still sucks to hear it thrown back at me. But the few people who are close to me would know not to use that word.
“How did you hear about that?” I ask, unable to keep the suspicion from my voice.
Rand jolts back and shakes his head like I’ve offended him. “Icareabout you, Lettie. You never replied to my messages, so I had to ask people around town to find out if you were even fucking alive. What’s with this attitude all of a sudden?”
