one thing leads to another
"Meg?" Carrie asks, opening the door to her room a couple of careful inches. "Are you okay? It's 8:30, you're going to miss your class."
Meg, still curled up under the blankets on her bed, nods. "Yeah, I know. I'm not feeling up to it today."
Carrie pushes the door open and comes into the room. "'Not feeling up to it'? Are you sick? And do I need to call a doctor or something, because first year I had to all but lock you in our room to keep you from going to class when you were running a fever of almost 39."
"I had a test that day. I don't today. And you don't need to call a doctor. I just . . . don't quite feel like myself."
"I've got news for you; you're not acting like yourself, either. You never skip class." Carrie hesitates, and then sits on the edge of Meg's bed. "Did something happen with Alain? Because you were late last night, which another 'never' for you, and then when I got home, he was gone and your door was closed."
"I wasn't feeling quite well yesterday, either," she says. "I'm fine, Carrie, I just need to rest."
Carrie gives her a skeptical, appraising sort of look. "If you say so," she says. "Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"
"I will," Meg says.
Alain calls around ten. The conversation is very short; he asks how she's feeling, and she tells him she feels fine. There's a long pause, and then he asks if she remembers what they talked about the night before. She remembers that feeling, remembers asking Derek about the burn on her hand and hoping it was all going to turn out to be a dream even while knowing it wasn't. "I told you about Milliways," she says.
"Right, of course," Alain says. Another pause, and then he adds, "I'll call you later. I need to . . . do something for Maman."
He doesn't call back on Friday, and Meg spends the whole day in bed.
On Saturday morning, Meg gets up. She gets dressed. She goes out to the post office to mail Kim's birthday present. She calls her parents. She takes a very long walk, during which she is stopped six different times by tourists who would like her to take their picture, one of whom seems only to speak German, and the entire exchange is conducted in charades.
Alain does not call.
He doesn't call on Sunday, either. Meg goes to church, goes out to lunch and to the movies with her friend, Farrah, finds the assignments she did at the end of the universe that were due Friday and are due today.
On Monday, she apologizes to her professors for missing class on Friday, and says she wasn't feeling well. They accept that without asking for details, tell her they're glad she's feeling better. Meg almost feels guilty about the whole thing.
But only almost.
It's almost surreal to be back at school; classes have barely begun, and she's just spent a month that felt longer than a month at the end of the universe. And life here has picked back up like nothing has changed, and, of course, nothing has.
Except her.
It's just after 7:00, and Meg is home alone, when there's a knock on the door, and she looks through the peephole to see Luc standing on her doorstep.
"What the hell did you and my brother fight about?" he asks, without preamble, when Meg opens the door.
"We didn't have a fight," Meg says.
"Really? Because Alain has just been hanging around my apartment drinking my beer and . . . moping for days now," Luc says, pushing past her and into the room. "If it wasn't a fight, then what was it?"
"Look, Luc, I'm sorry. I like you, but . . . I really don't think this is exactly any of your business."
"Alain is my little brother. That makes him my business."
"No, that makes him your brother. Who is twenty-one and taller than you."
"Only two centimeters."
"I'm sorry, Luc, but . . . Alain is a not a child. And whatever is going on, if anything is going on, it doesn't involve you. Because things between your brother and me, are between your brother and me. Not your brother and me and you."
"Meg, I know my brother. And I know something's going on."
"Something may be, but if he didn't tell you, I certainly won't. I mean, how would you feel if Alain and Nathalie were talking about you behind your back?"
"He's my brother, Meg. Just . . . tell me if I need to be worried about him. More than I am. Whatever this is . . . how badly is he going to get hurt by it?"
"I don't know," Meg says. "I honestly don't know. And you need to go now. Please."
Luc stares at her for a moment, and then leaves without another word.
But then, the door that slams behind him is kind of good-bye enough.
Meg, still curled up under the blankets on her bed, nods. "Yeah, I know. I'm not feeling up to it today."
Carrie pushes the door open and comes into the room. "'Not feeling up to it'? Are you sick? And do I need to call a doctor or something, because first year I had to all but lock you in our room to keep you from going to class when you were running a fever of almost 39."
"I had a test that day. I don't today. And you don't need to call a doctor. I just . . . don't quite feel like myself."
"I've got news for you; you're not acting like yourself, either. You never skip class." Carrie hesitates, and then sits on the edge of Meg's bed. "Did something happen with Alain? Because you were late last night, which another 'never' for you, and then when I got home, he was gone and your door was closed."
"I wasn't feeling quite well yesterday, either," she says. "I'm fine, Carrie, I just need to rest."
Carrie gives her a skeptical, appraising sort of look. "If you say so," she says. "Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"
"I will," Meg says.
Alain calls around ten. The conversation is very short; he asks how she's feeling, and she tells him she feels fine. There's a long pause, and then he asks if she remembers what they talked about the night before. She remembers that feeling, remembers asking Derek about the burn on her hand and hoping it was all going to turn out to be a dream even while knowing it wasn't. "I told you about Milliways," she says.
"Right, of course," Alain says. Another pause, and then he adds, "I'll call you later. I need to . . . do something for Maman."
He doesn't call back on Friday, and Meg spends the whole day in bed.
On Saturday morning, Meg gets up. She gets dressed. She goes out to the post office to mail Kim's birthday present. She calls her parents. She takes a very long walk, during which she is stopped six different times by tourists who would like her to take their picture, one of whom seems only to speak German, and the entire exchange is conducted in charades.
Alain does not call.
He doesn't call on Sunday, either. Meg goes to church, goes out to lunch and to the movies with her friend, Farrah, finds the assignments she did at the end of the universe that were due Friday and are due today.
On Monday, she apologizes to her professors for missing class on Friday, and says she wasn't feeling well. They accept that without asking for details, tell her they're glad she's feeling better. Meg almost feels guilty about the whole thing.
But only almost.
It's almost surreal to be back at school; classes have barely begun, and she's just spent a month that felt longer than a month at the end of the universe. And life here has picked back up like nothing has changed, and, of course, nothing has.
Except her.
It's just after 7:00, and Meg is home alone, when there's a knock on the door, and she looks through the peephole to see Luc standing on her doorstep.
"What the hell did you and my brother fight about?" he asks, without preamble, when Meg opens the door.
"We didn't have a fight," Meg says.
"Really? Because Alain has just been hanging around my apartment drinking my beer and . . . moping for days now," Luc says, pushing past her and into the room. "If it wasn't a fight, then what was it?"
"Look, Luc, I'm sorry. I like you, but . . . I really don't think this is exactly any of your business."
"Alain is my little brother. That makes him my business."
"No, that makes him your brother. Who is twenty-one and taller than you."
"Only two centimeters."
"I'm sorry, Luc, but . . . Alain is a not a child. And whatever is going on, if anything is going on, it doesn't involve you. Because things between your brother and me, are between your brother and me. Not your brother and me and you."
"Meg, I know my brother. And I know something's going on."
"Something may be, but if he didn't tell you, I certainly won't. I mean, how would you feel if Alain and Nathalie were talking about you behind your back?"
"He's my brother, Meg. Just . . . tell me if I need to be worried about him. More than I am. Whatever this is . . . how badly is he going to get hurt by it?"
"I don't know," Meg says. "I honestly don't know. And you need to go now. Please."
Luc stares at her for a moment, and then leaves without another word.
But then, the door that slams behind him is kind of good-bye enough.