i wish my smile was your favorite kind of smile. (ravissement) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2012-11-16 12:14:00 |
|
|||
The phone rings three times before someone picks up. A voice starts in cautiously. "Hello?" "Papa, it is me." "Lydie? Truly, that is you?" A muffled noise like they are cupping their hand over their mouth to keep a cry down. Lydie thinks she hears someone say oh thank God before Jean-claude speaks again. His voice sounds like driving over gravel, his Luxembourgish guttural. "We were so worried. We thought you had died. They said you were sleeping." "I was." She's surprised by the warmth of his voice. Had that always been there? She thinks of awkward dinners where her family scooted around her. The shining gold of her hair matched against the brass of Mattéo and Emma, the flaxen-haired odd duck out. "But I am awake now. I am sorry I missed your call." There is a little pause and then Jean-claude clears his throat like he's moving something masive down his esophagus. "It is fine," he says with tenderness. "I am just glad that you are safe. Your brother and sister were worried." Another surprise. "They were?" "Of course they were. Mattéo wanted to fly to Australia and get you. Of course, we do not have that kind of money... It is probably for the best that we don't." A dry chuckle. "Emma was more calm. She was calling that school of yours every day." Lydie tries to reconcile this image of her older siblings fretting over her possible demise when they had not even hugged her good-bye when she had left for the airplane terminal. Was this a joke? She could hardly believe any of this was true. It was like someone telling her that the sky was raining gumdrops or that the ocean had turned into a body of whipped cream. "Did they?" Her voice sounds like it is coming from the other end of the phone. Like someone else is talking. That's how much disbelief she is in. "I did not know that." "We were trying to get a hold of you before then but when we called, that is when we found out something was wrong." He let out a loud gush of air through his nose. Lydie could picture him sitting at the kitchen table in his soiled overalls, a hand clamped over his bad knee. She imagined the small fringe of hair around his head like a thin halo. For the first time, she thought of him with tenderness. Papa. "Is this school really such a good idea?" "Papa, we don't have a choice. I have to be here." Because I know English, thanks to Michel. "I think they are doing what they can to protect us. It wasn't their fault entirely." She is surprised when she says those words, because she is not lying. She really believes them. "It is not so awful here." "It isn't? That's good." "It isn't. I Have friends. Not like the ones back home, but maybe even better ones. They understand what it's like, Papa." Silence drifts in between them. "To be a Vol? You feel better about being a Vol with them?" "I don't feel better. But I feel more at ease. Does this make sense?" "Yes, yes, it does. I am glad you are happy, Lydie. I am glad that you are not hurt." "Of course not, Papa. I would never let myself not be able to come home. You know this." And then she said shyly, "I miss it very much." Such strange words. Lydie wonders about the sudden affection that exists between them. "We miss you too, Lydie. We wish you could come home." "Me too," she says softly. "Is Mama home? Can I speak to her?" Another silence and this time, he does not speak. Lydie tries again, "Papa? Can I speak to Mama?" "We were trying to call you. To tell you." A frisson of worry goes through her but she brushes it off. "Papa, what are you talking about?" Her panic rises. "What happened? Why were you trying to call me in the first place?" "Lydie, please calm down." "Where is Mama? May I please speak to her?" "Don't talk to me with that kind of tone. Lydie, please. Be quiet." "I want to speak to my mother, Jean-claude, please let me speak to my mother." "Lydie." When he says her name again this time, something inside of her shatters. She feels the pointed edges of the glass case of her heart poking against her ribcage. When she breathes, they cut into her insides. Blood burbles into her lungs. She drags a breath out of the air. She tries to calm herself down, but his voice sounds so serious. "Yes, Papa?" "Lydie." He says her name again and it sounds like he is very sorry. What is he sorry about? She does not have to wait much longer because the next words illuminate it all. "Lydie, your mother is dead." |