And Simon—do you know what’s been going on with him lately? Does that interest you? It’s not work that’s stripped away your love. You use it to hide from us. We’re not enough for you anymore. It’s like our family life doesn’t give you the pleasure that you’re searching for endlessly. Or maybe you met another woman. Maybe you found in her what we once had. The problem isn’t knowing that you’re having an affair, it’s understanding how you got there. At first I thought I was responsible for the erosion of our love. Then I refused to feel guilty. The only abnormal element is you. Your invented childhood, your lies, your uncontrollable fears, your convenient amnesia. The problem comes from what you don’t want to see. I can’t do anything about it if you won’t let me into this other world you’ve created to escape yourself.
Despite all that, I believe we can still save our marriage.
—Victoria
Jeremy scanned the letter again and again, searching between the words and lines for a reason to hope. Pain clenched his chest. Victoria, his reason for living, his reason for dying, was threatening to leave him.
Suddenly, he heard a thud and then a scream from the kitchen. He didn’t react immediately, but Thomas came into the office, panicked. “What are you waiting for? Come quick!” He had fear in his eyes. And hatred.
Jeremy leapt up. In the kitchen, Simon was on his back, unconscious. Blood gushed from his arm.
“He slipped and cut himself. His head hit the floor. Hard.” Thomas’s voice shook. He looked at Jeremy, waiting for him to say something reassuring. Jeremy crouched over Simon. He’d fallen on the pieces of glass Jeremy had pushed into a corner a few minutes earlier. His forearm was slashed in several places. His breathing was slow.
“Is…is he dead?” Thomas asked, sobbing. He stood behind his father, waiting for a diagnosis.
“Don’t worry,” Jeremy said in a reassuring tone.
Jeremy patted Simon on the cheeks. Simon opened his eyes.
“You’re all right, Simon. Everything’s fine. It’s bleeding a lot, but it’s nothing serious. We’re going to call an ambulance. But first, I’m going to bandage you up.” Jeremy pressed a cloth over the wound, not entirely certain of what he was doing or whether it would have any effect.
“Daddy, it hurts,” Simon said, sniffling. The little boy looked at him anxiously.
“It’s going to be all right.”
With Thomas at his heels, Jeremy picked Simon up and carried him to the living room. He set him down on the sofa and picked up the telephone. Thomas watched his father and held his little brother’s hand. Simon smiled.
“It’s not serious, Thomas. Daddy said so.”
“Okay, it’s not serious,” his older brother repeated.
Jeremy dialed 911, nervous. The child had lost a lot of blood, and while the bandage had slowed the bleeding, some was still seeping through.
“It’s urgent, it’s…my son,” Jeremy explained to the professional voice on the other end of the line. “He cut himself on the wrist. He bled. He lost consciousness. I made him a sort of tourniquet. My address?”
He stumbled over his words: “Yes, miss. I don’t…I’m a little panicked…I’m…My address, yes…” Jeremy, at a loss for words, felt ridiculous and weak at the same time.
“Nine Recollets Street, in the tenth arrondissement,” Thomas supplied coldly.
Jeremy repeated the address to the woman on the phone and hung up. “I…I forgot…But they’re arriving in a few minutes,” Jeremy announced, embarrassed.
“Daddy, it hurts.” Simon’s face was by now very pale. Sweat pasted his curly brown locks to his forehead.
“The doctor’s coming. It’s going to be all right.”
“We have to call Mom,” Thomas said.
“Yes, you’re right. But not now. Let’s wait until the doctors are here. We’ll call her when we know more.”
The three of them sat in silence. Thomas held onto his little brother’s hand. Jeremy stroked his face. Once again, the present caught hold of him, more violently this time. He’d been absorbed completely by the urgency, fear, and necessity. And now the guilt. I’m not a responsible husband. I’m not a responsible father. I’m a danger to my family when I’m having a crisis. And I’m an unfit father when I’m well.
It was the arrival of the ambulance that pulled him out of these dark thoughts. Under Thomas’s fearful gaze, the EMT examined Simon. “He didn’t lose that much blood. One vein severed and maybe a scratched tendon. We have to move him to the hospital for service. You’ll come along?”
“Yes, of course,” Jeremy replied. “Thomas and I will go.”
“Where are we going?” Simon asked weakly.
“To the hospital. We’re going with you.”
“I’m going in an ambulance?”
“Yes.”
“With a siren?”
“If you want,” the EMT replied with a wink.
“Cool.”
The operation was over. The doctors had reassured Jeremy. Thomas was sitting on a bench, knees folded, head between his arms. His demeanor remained cold and distant.
I can tell Thomas doesn’t like me. He judges me, evaluating my performance. Everything I do disappoints him. Yet somehow he doesn’t seem to hate me. He needs a father and hopes I’ll fulfill my role. But what can I do? Is it possible to regain his confidence? And tomorrow, will I become the father he fears again?
Jeremy sat down next to him. Thomas lifted his head with an inquisitive look.
“He’s fine. They gave him a few stitches.”
“Did it hurt?” Thomas asked weakly.
“No. He’s sleeping now.” Jeremy took his hand and wanted to draw him closer, but Thomas resisted, bursting into tears. Jeremy took him by the shoulders, feeling more opposition. He insisted, and Thomas finally gave in.
“Everything’s going to be fine. You acted very grown up. I admire your courage. You were afraid, weren’t you?”
Thomas sniffed, replying with a nod.
“And you didn’t show it. So you wouldn’t scare him. I’m proud of you, Son.” Hearing these words, Thomas removed his face from his father’s shoulder to look at him, perplexed.
“It’s true. I’m really very proud of you.” They sat pressed against each other.
I’m supposed to love him, protect him, comfort him. But I feel so young. I’m not ready for these responsibilities.
A ringtone sounded. Thomas sat up. He reached into his pocket and took out a cell phone. “It’s Mom. You tell her?”
Jeremy took the phone. “Victoria?”
“Jeremy? Where’s Thomas? I left my phone with him.”
“He’s next to me.”
“Is that so? What are you doing?”
“Don’t get upset, but…we’re at the hospital.”
“What? Why? What happened?” Victoria almost screamed.
“It’s Simon. He cut himself.”
“He cut himself? How? My God!” Victoria panicked.
“Victoria, calm down. Everything’s fine, I assure you. Simon’s fine. They gave him stitches. He’s resting.”
“They gave him…What are you talking about? What happened?”
“He broke a jar and fell on a piece of glass. It’s an ugly cut on the forearm, but nothing serious, really.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Yes. Of course.” Jeremy paused. “I feel responsible, Victoria…”
“I don’t care what you feel! What did the doctors say?”
“I don’t know yet. We’re waiting to hear from the one taking care of him. Don’t get worked up.”
“Don’t get worked up? Are you serious? I’m gone a few hours and my son winds up in the hospital and you tell me not to get worked up.” Victoria started thinking out loud. “What can I do? I can’t come right away. I’m two hundred miles away, and I don’t have a car.”
“Find a way,” Jeremy said, thinking only of himself. “Simon’s going to need you.” As soon as he said this, he felt gui
lty for taking advantage of the situation.
“The next train is tomorrow morning. I…I don’t know what to do.”
Tomorrow? That word doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. I’m not going to see her. I’m going to lose her again.
Jeremy wanted to beg her to come, but Victoria’s anxiety kept him quiet. What would she think of him if he whined?
“My son is in the hospital, and I’m stuck here. He’s going to ask for me,” she moaned.
“No, he’s going to sleep. If he wakes up, I’ll tell him you’re on your way.”
Victoria was quiet for a moment. Jeremy could hear her sigh. Or was she crying? Eventually, she regained her composure. “And Thomas, how did he react?”
“He was very brave.”
“Put him on.”
He handed the phone to his son.
Jeremy was happier after speaking with Victoria. And terribly disappointed by the idea of not seeing her.
Before hanging up, Thomas looked up at his father. “You know, Mom, it’s not Dad’s fault. It was an accident. Dad took really good care of us. You want to talk to him again?” From the look Thomas gave him, Jeremy knew Victoria had said no. Thomas hung up. He turned to Jeremy and shrugged his shoulders to show there was nothing he could do.
“She’s coming tomorrow,” Thomas said as consolation.
“She’s mad at me, isn’t she?”
Thomas lowered his eyes.
“I haven’t been very good to her lately, have I?”
The boy said nothing.
“Me, I’m a little lost. And you—what do you think?”
The child had to have an opinion of his own.
“You’re not very good and…you’re gone a lot.”
“I work too much?”
Thomas nodded. “You’re never there. And Mom says you don’t take care of her anymore.”
“You think she’s right?”
“Yeah, she’s right. And you don’t take care of us either.”
“Are you mad at me too?”
The child nodded.
“You know, I’m going to try and change. I promise.” Jeremy had barely finished making the promise before regretting it.
I’m stupid for giving him hope. The man I am seems to care only about leaving unhappiness in his wake. My children, my wife, my father, my mother…
“I have to call Grandma and Grandpa,” he said to Thomas. “Do you have their number?”
The boy looked at him in surprise. “Yes, I have it. But…”
Seeing the look on Thomas’s face, Jeremy knew he was in for another disappointment. “But what?”
“Nothing…I’ll call them.” The child hadn’t looked up.
“Grandma? It’s Thomas…I’m at the hospital…No, no, here’s Dad. He’ll explain.” Thomas handed the cell phone to Jeremy.
“Mom?”
“Yes…What happened? Did something bad happen?”
Jeremy felt his heart tighten when he heard his mother’s voice. He described the incident and reassured her of Simon’s health.
“Why didn’t Victoria call me?” she asked more firmly.
“She’s not here. She’s at her parents’ house.”
“And she left you with the kids?” she said bitingly.
“We’re in a bit of a fight, I think…”
“You think?”
“But we’ll work it out. And you? How are you?”
“How am I? You’re worried? You’re interested today? Because you were afraid for your son? The ambulance, the hospital, the fear that eats away at your stomach…It’s traumatizing, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s the kind of anguish that reconnects us with reality. And the reality is you’ve forgotten your parents. Your parents whom you haven’t spoken to in six years. And today you call me because you feel alone, desperate. Because you’re afraid.”
Jeremy was demolished. It was almost unbearable to hear his mother speak to him so harshly.
“Is Victoria going to be joining you?”
“Tomorrow.”
“So tell her to call me.”
“Mom, I wanted—”
But she had already hung up. The dry clack of the handset was like a slap on the face. Jeremy closed his eyes, ready to break down when his son spoke to him.
“She wasn’t happy?”
Jeremy, haggard, unable to reply, shrugged his shoulders.
“Mom says we’re always aware of our problems, even if we’d rather ignore them.”
“Yes…to the point of forgetting them. But you, you can give me your opinion. You can tell me everything.”
Thomas hesitated a moment, then replied in a voice filled with despair. “You never go see Grandma and Grandpa. You won’t talk to them on the phone. When we go visit, you’re never there. Sometimes Grandma cries when we talk about you. Grandpa, he says he doesn’t have a son anymore. He took down all the photos of you. He doesn’t want us talking about you when he’s around. So if you want to patch things up, it’s going to be kind of hard. But it might work. Look at us. This morning I hated you, and now…now it’s better.”
Each of these words, delivered with sincerity by his son, upset Jeremy and made him start to cry. Thomas reached his small arms around his father and held him tightly. “It’s okay, Daddy, it’s okay.”
When the surgeon returned, the two of them were almost asleep. He looked like a doctor in a made-for-television movie: deliberate gaze, snappy walk, open coat, sleeves rolled back. He had the manners of a man without time to waste. A serious man, decisive with his patients, authoritative with his colleagues.
“Mr. Delègue?”
Jeremy looked up.
“Everything went fine. One of the cuts was ugly, but he’ll only have a small scar. He should stay overnight for observation. Where’s his mother? He’s asking for her.”
“She’ll be here tomorrow. But why keep him overnight?”
“For the head injury. He did lose consciousness, after all.”
Jeremy lowered his eyes to Thomas, watching him attentively. He expected a word of comfort for the child, but the surgeon said nothing.
“Can we sleep with him?” asked the boy.
“That’s not allowed.”
“Can we see him?” Thomas insisted firmly.
“Yes. But not too long. He needs rest,” the doctor said as he turned on his heels.
“What a jerk,” Thomas said as the surgeon walked away.
“Ha! You’re not supposed to say things like that,” Jeremy said to him.
“I talk like you. You say worse things sometimes.”
In the hospital room, Simon slept.
He opened his eyes, smiling. “Thomas, where are you?”
“Right next to you,” Jeremy answered. “So how are you, Son?”
“Oh, Daddy, did you see the tape on my arm?”
“It’s not tape, it’s a bandage,” Thomas quipped, smiling.
“No, it’s tape.” Simon’s voice was weak. He wanted to move around and argue more, but sleep started to win him over.
“Does it hurt?” Thomas asked.
“No, not anymore. Where’s Mommy?”
“She’s coming in a minute,” Jeremy reassured him, hoping the child would go to sleep before he caught on to the lie.
“When do we go home?”
“Oh, well, you have to stay here until tomorrow,” Jeremy answered, taking Simon’s hand.
“Alone?”
“No, we’ll wait until you go to sleep, and we’ll come back when you wake up.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise,” said Jeremy, making a fist.
Simon looked at him with curiosity.
“Look, here’s what friends do when they swear the truth.” Jeremy took Simon’s hand, closed it into a fist, and tapped his knuckled against his son’s.
Simon smiled. Thomas stepped forward to repeat the gesture. They exchanged a knowing glance.
“We’re friends no
w, Daddy?” Simon asked.
“Yes, more than friends.”
Jeremy felt a gentle warmth wash over him. It corresponded to the strength of the invisible bond that united him and his sons deeply, one that sealed their fates more than words or circumstances ever could. The children needed him so they could grow up. They wanted to find a place in their father’s eyes. In his heart. And Jeremy knew from that moment forward his life would turn on more than just his relationship with Victoria. He had a family. He was responsible for it. The idea of not being able to assume responsibility for them in the days, the months, the years to follow—it enraged him.
A few minutes later, Simon fell asleep. Thomas and Jeremy sat beside him on the bed for a moment longer. Then Thomas closed his eyes and lay down next to his brother, exhausted by his emotions. Jeremy sat there watching them sleep calmly, united.
They’re mine. These are my sons, and I love them. But what kind of love is it? I remember once hearing a religious person say that man has three chances to make something of himself. First, with the love and support of his parents. If he doesn’t make it, his wife gives him another chance to become more than a careless, egotistical, immature man. If he fails, then his children are a last recourse. After that…he’s doomed. What have I done with my three chances? What have I done with the love I’ve been given? I’m an ungrateful son, an unworthy husband, and a bad father. If I don’t find a way of correcting my course now, then I’m lost. I’ll finish my days alone, hated by my own. Then I’ll be happy for some kind of amnesia to erase the memory of my mistakes. I have to act now and become the person I always was again, the person I am today.
The telephone rang. Jeremy scrambled to pick up, glancing at the children. They still slept soundly, with tightly closed fists.
“Hello? Thomas?”
“It’s Jeremy.”
“What’s going on? Why are you talking like that?” Victoria asked nervously.
“I’m speaking quietly so I don’t wake them up.”
“Are you at home?”
“No, at the hospital. The doctor wanted Simon to stay the night, and Thomas fell asleep.”
Still With Me Page 7
