A Collection of Stories

Seeing Mother

"You say papa's always talking to himself at night," eight-year-old Felicity said with relished gusto. "But really, he isn't. He's speaking to Mama."

Constantin rubbed his eyelids, then replaced his glasses. "Tu es un paquet de stupité, ma sœur. When are you going to understand that Maman's dead? She's been dead!" 

"Constantin!" their grandmother scolded. "Don't talk to your sister like that." The young man huffed and returned to his book. Grandmother turned to his sister.

"You see, Felicity, your father misses your mother so much that he talks to her as if she's still there; it makes him feel better."

The girl crossed her arms and pouted. "Je ne te crois pas, Mamie, because I heard her laughing last night, and she kissed me when I went to sleep." Constantin let his book fall. 

"Menteur! Why must you be so unbearable, you little snot?!" 

"It's true!" she said, petulantly. "She kissed you too."

"That is it!—"

"I think that's enough for today," said an older girl standing near the window with a gurgling baby in her arms. She shut the book she'd been reading with a snap. "I think we should get home before the rain comes down, don't you, Henrí?" she asked, turning to the feisty bundle in her arms. She bent low to rub his nose with her own.

Their grandmother looked up from her sewing. "So soon, Odíle? Couldn't you all stay a while longer?"

Odíle shook her head.

"Oh, no, Mamie," she said. "I have to get them back in time for dinner, and they have homework."

"What homework?" asked Felicity, earning a kick from her brother.

"Ow! Odíle, Constantin hit me!"

"At least let your aunt drive you—there she is now."

Their father's sister sailed into the house bearing a basket, but Odíle quickly returned the baby to his stroller and grabbed her sister by the hand.

She kissed the old woman. "Non merci, Mamie!" 

"Hello children—"

"Au revoir, Aunt Florence!" and with her siblings in tow, she darted out the front door. 

"Why can't I talk about Mama?" Felicity asked once she became exhausted from chasing the reddish leaves  of fall around. Odíle tucked her cooing brother up and lowered the stroller's hood.

"But why can't I?" she asked again after her brother predicted rain.

"I'll tell you why," said Constantin. He leaned forward, levelling his face with hers. "Because everyone'll think papa's mentally sick and lock him in an asylum. As for us? We'll likely end up with our aunt and you, I dare say, wouldn't last a day because, like it or not, she is une méchante sorcière. " 

"Assez, Constantin!" 

"What? Didn't anyone tell you truth is sometimes ugly?"

"I don't care, I said enough."

The boy scoffed and walked ahead.

Felicity looked after him as he kicked a few stones. She turned to her sister. "What's an As... asyslum?"

"An asylum is a place for demented people"

"Huh?"

"People who are sick in their heads, crazy people."

"Oh."

"Felicity, Constantin's right: you should avoid speaking of Maman to other people. In fact, don't talk of her at all."

"But—"

"No buts! Maman died months ago and pretending she didn't isn't good for your mental health, okay? So don't talk about her like she's still around, especially in front of aunt Florence and Mamie, understand?"

She sighed. "Okay... Odíle?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you ever talk about her?"

"Who?"

"Mama! You never mention her like she never existed!"

Odíle looked at the sky, then smiled at her sister. "Come on, I think I feel a shower..."

~

Constantin was waiting for them at the door, and said, once they stepped inside, "He's doing it again." Odíle lifted the baby from the stroller and followed her brother to the kitchen.

Their father hummed off key, holding a wine glass while stirring the contents of the pot on the burner while another half-filled glass stood on the bar counter. A half eaten dish of fruit and cheese rested beside a burning candle. He turned bright eyes to them.

"Salut, mes enfants! How was your walk? Is your grandmother well?" 

"Who else is in the house?" his son asked in his firm way. Their father frowned.

"No one, it's just me and..." He stopped just as he'd made a faint gesture towards the second wine glass.

"Is it mama?" asked Felicity.

He hesitated. "Oui, ma fille chérie."

She sighed happily, then rushed to take a chair at the counter. "Good!" She beamed, causing their dad to chuckle. Constantin shook his head before marching up to his room. Their father smiled warmly at Odíle.

"How's our little Henrí? Did he enjoy his afternoon?"

"Oui, Papa, he... he's asleep.. I'll take him to the nursery."

"Dinner'll be ready in twenty minutes!" he called after her. His and Felicity's laughter followed her upstairs.

~

"Odíle? Wake up!"

"What, what? What's happened?"

"He's talking to himself again."

"Go back to bed, Constantin." She tried rolling over again, but he grabbed her arm.

"Come on, you have to see this!"

She groaned as she climbed out of bed.

They tiptoed down the hall to their father's bedroom. Voices and music reached their ears, making Constantin frown.

"Someone's in there with him."

"Felicity?" she asked.

He shook his head. "She's asleep, I checked." He reached for the knob.

"Maybe we shouldn't—"

"You're joking, right? There's no way some woman's coming in our house to take over—absolument pas! I'd rather you took charge forever." He rose to go. "I'll go round the back and climb the trellis to the window."

"No, there'll be no such nonsense tonight."

Constantin put his eye to the keyhole.

"Mon Dieu, our father's lost his sanity. He's literally dancing by himself! Look!"

Odíle peeped through the keyhole and her mouth slowly fell open as she stared at the woman in her father's arms who met her gaze and smiled with eyes very much like her own....