10 June 1989, Morning
Meg gets back to the hospital twenty minutes before it's officially visiting hours, and isn't at all surprised to find Alain's parents and brother are already there.
"Maman insisted," Luc says, sitting down next to Meg. "Don't worry. If I know my brother, he will make her let you have your turn very soon."
"No one has to rush on my account," Meg says.
"You look very nice," Luc says. "In case you were wondering again."
"Better than yesterday?"
"Everything is better than it was yesterday," Luc says, and Meg nods.
It is. And it has nothing to do with the fact that the clothes she has borrowed from Kim actually match.
Luc is right about the other, too. Twenty minutes after Micheline and Jean-Guy leave the waiting room, they're back, and reporting that Alain has asked for Meg.
It seems like she should have a lot to say, but all she can think of is, "Hi." And since that hardly seems adequate, she also leans over to kiss him.
"How are you feeling?" she asks, a few seconds later, her forehead resting lightly against his.
"Better now," he says, and kisses her again. "You are better than painkillers."
Meg laughs a little. "You actually make that sound romantic. Or maybe I just really love you."
"Or both?"
"Oh, probably," she says, lightly.
"How are you?" he asks, eyes on the cut on her cheek and the sling on her arm.
"I'm all right," she says. "Now. Luc has been looking after me."
So have a lot of other people, not all of whom Alain knows or has even heard of. But Luc is the relevant one, in this conversation.
"Good."
"He's good at it," Meg adds.
Possibly even better than he knows.
"Well, he's bossy," Alain says. And then, "I'm so sorry."
"For what?" Meg asks, puzzled. Because she doesn't think he's apologizing because his brother is bossy.
"I should not have let this happen."
"Alain, you didn't let anything happen. The other car swerved into us. There was nothing you could have done."
"You could have been killed."
Meg kisses him very lightly. "You came a lot closer to dying than I did."
"Do you remember it?" Alain asks, abruptly.
Meg doesn't need to ask what he's referring to. "Just in bits and pieces. Do you?"
"No. Nothing."
As Kim reminded her this morning, that's not uncommon with this kind of trauma. But Meg suspects telling him that is going to be about as much use as Kim's telling her was; it doesn't change either wanting to or thinking that you should be able to, anyway.
So Meg just brings her left hand up to rest against his cheek.
Alain leans into the curve of her palm and closes his eyes.
"If anything had happened to you -- more than did --" he says.
"But it didn't," she says, firmly.
"If we had left earlier, when you wanted to, this wouldn't have happened."
"That's true," Meg says, because it is.
"I expected you to argue with me, ma belle."
"Of course, it also wouldn't have happened if I hadn't sped up when you teased me, or if I had slowed down instead, or if I hadn't taken the time to call my parents after lunch or if I had taken a minute longer to call my parents after lunch."
"It wasn't your fault," Alain says.
"It wasn't your fault, either. If either one of us had made any one a of hundred decisions differently, something else would have happened. But we'll never know what. And it could have been something worse."
"I still shouldn't have--"
"I'm all right, and you're going to be all right. That's what's important. Please don't beat yourself up about it, okay?"
"Meg, I . . ."
"For my sake?"
Alain sighs. "When you say that . . ."
"You can't say no," Meg says. That would be why she said it. "I guess you just really love me."
"Or I have accepted that you are usually right," Alain says.
"Or both?"
"Oh, probably," he says, and smiles at her for a second. Then his face grows more serious, and his eyes again go to the cut on her cheek. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine. I promise. Dad says it probably won't even leave a scar."
Alain frowns more, but lets it go with, "All right."
Meg kisses his forehead.
"How long can you stay?" he asks.
"Until you or your mother makes me leave," she says, sitting down in the chair to his right, and taking his good hand with hers. "Or visiting hours are over. Whichever comes first."
"Maman insisted," Luc says, sitting down next to Meg. "Don't worry. If I know my brother, he will make her let you have your turn very soon."
"No one has to rush on my account," Meg says.
"You look very nice," Luc says. "In case you were wondering again."
"Better than yesterday?"
"Everything is better than it was yesterday," Luc says, and Meg nods.
It is. And it has nothing to do with the fact that the clothes she has borrowed from Kim actually match.
Luc is right about the other, too. Twenty minutes after Micheline and Jean-Guy leave the waiting room, they're back, and reporting that Alain has asked for Meg.
It seems like she should have a lot to say, but all she can think of is, "Hi." And since that hardly seems adequate, she also leans over to kiss him.
"How are you feeling?" she asks, a few seconds later, her forehead resting lightly against his.
"Better now," he says, and kisses her again. "You are better than painkillers."
Meg laughs a little. "You actually make that sound romantic. Or maybe I just really love you."
"Or both?"
"Oh, probably," she says, lightly.
"How are you?" he asks, eyes on the cut on her cheek and the sling on her arm.
"I'm all right," she says. "Now. Luc has been looking after me."
So have a lot of other people, not all of whom Alain knows or has even heard of. But Luc is the relevant one, in this conversation.
"Good."
"He's good at it," Meg adds.
Possibly even better than he knows.
"Well, he's bossy," Alain says. And then, "I'm so sorry."
"For what?" Meg asks, puzzled. Because she doesn't think he's apologizing because his brother is bossy.
"I should not have let this happen."
"Alain, you didn't let anything happen. The other car swerved into us. There was nothing you could have done."
"You could have been killed."
Meg kisses him very lightly. "You came a lot closer to dying than I did."
"Do you remember it?" Alain asks, abruptly.
Meg doesn't need to ask what he's referring to. "Just in bits and pieces. Do you?"
"No. Nothing."
As Kim reminded her this morning, that's not uncommon with this kind of trauma. But Meg suspects telling him that is going to be about as much use as Kim's telling her was; it doesn't change either wanting to or thinking that you should be able to, anyway.
So Meg just brings her left hand up to rest against his cheek.
Alain leans into the curve of her palm and closes his eyes.
"If anything had happened to you -- more than did --" he says.
"But it didn't," she says, firmly.
"If we had left earlier, when you wanted to, this wouldn't have happened."
"That's true," Meg says, because it is.
"I expected you to argue with me, ma belle."
"Of course, it also wouldn't have happened if I hadn't sped up when you teased me, or if I had slowed down instead, or if I hadn't taken the time to call my parents after lunch or if I had taken a minute longer to call my parents after lunch."
"It wasn't your fault," Alain says.
"It wasn't your fault, either. If either one of us had made any one a of hundred decisions differently, something else would have happened. But we'll never know what. And it could have been something worse."
"I still shouldn't have--"
"I'm all right, and you're going to be all right. That's what's important. Please don't beat yourself up about it, okay?"
"Meg, I . . ."
"For my sake?"
Alain sighs. "When you say that . . ."
"You can't say no," Meg says. That would be why she said it. "I guess you just really love me."
"Or I have accepted that you are usually right," Alain says.
"Or both?"
"Oh, probably," he says, and smiles at her for a second. Then his face grows more serious, and his eyes again go to the cut on her cheek. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine. I promise. Dad says it probably won't even leave a scar."
Alain frowns more, but lets it go with, "All right."
Meg kisses his forehead.
"How long can you stay?" he asks.
"Until you or your mother makes me leave," she says, sitting down in the chair to his right, and taking his good hand with hers. "Or visiting hours are over. Whichever comes first."