Taste of Summer

avant

I remember the day that Grandmère first told me about her Palermo wish.

We were in the car, on the way to my cousin's wedding in Nice. Mom was driving, my older sister Claire sat shotgun and I was stuck in the backseat with Grandmère.

"This reminds me of when we used to go to Italy for vacation. We always took the car, do you remember that, Ange?" she asked Mom. I knew what she was talking about because Mom had mentioned it once or twice.

"Of course I do, Mother," she answered absentminded while she concentrated on the road.

"We should do the same roadtrip to show the children, don't you think, Ange?" Grandmère didn't seem fazed by the lack of enthusiasm.

"Hmm- hmm."

And that was about it with the conversation we had during that car ride.

When we finally parked in front of our hotel, I opened the door, held it open for Grandmère and helped her out while the others took the baggage.

"You're a sweetheart, Laure,"  she said to me, making my thirteen year old self proud to finally please someone. "I want to go to Palermo before I die. Can you promise me to take me there?"

I eagerly nodded and helped her to the elevator after we had gotten our keys. That evening, after unpacking, I wrote Grandmère's request in my diary so that I wouldn't forget it, while my sister snored in her bed, oblivious to my important task.

•••

It was routine by now: riding my bike, trying to avoid getting run over on the busy streets of Paris and finally arriving, taking two steps at a time until I reached Grandmère's apartement.

She opened the door and invited me in with a big grin on her face. The apartement was surprisingly modern, nothing one would expect from an old lady. Once I heard her shuffle into the kitchen, I decided to go ahead and settle on the couch in the living room, the white one with the softer cushions.

"So tell me, is there anything new, chérie?" she asked, placing a bowl of candied nectarines (yes, that's a thing) on the table and sitting down herself. Her blonde hair fell onto her shoulders, the wrinkles next to her eyes ever present and she seemed happy, healthy, although I knew that wasn't the case. "Anything interesting going on, some gossip maybe?"

I smiled at that and popped a piece of nectarine into my mouth. So good. "Well, when you put it like that." I paused to think about something worth telling. "We could talk about Claire," I proposed and Grandmère nodded.

I then told her about the postcard my sister had sent me from Oslo and the pictures she had uploaded, showing her with a handsome Norwegian.

When we spent our afternoons like this - talking and eating nectarines - it was easy to forget about her health issues. Easy, but not entirely possible.

"Laure," Grandmère said hesitantly when I noticed that I had to be home soon, "do you remember the promise you made in Nice?"

I didn't need long to know what she meant. Nervously, I tucked a strand of my dark hair behind my ear. Why was she bringing that up now? This is not good. "Yes, why?"

Grandmère sighed and I could feel my heart sinking. "I need you to do it soon."

"But why?" I almost whined. "Grandmère, is something wrong? How do you feel? Is it getting worse?" I knew that I sounded like a panicked chicken but I didn't care. Suddenly the cushion didn't feel so soft anymore.

But Grandmère smiled softly at me. "It's alright, chérie," she reassured me. "Nothing's changed. I just felt like now would be a good time."

I exhaled a sigh of relief, ignoring the worry nagging at me. "Then I'll take you there."

•••

After saying goodbye to Grandmère, I grimped up the stairs of her building, coming to halt in front of where Bastien lived. I hadn't seen that guy in ages, but now I needed his help. After reassuring myself that it was okay to ask him for a favour after years of not having talked, I knocked on the door and held my breath.

He opened the door - thankfully it was him, I didn't want to explain myself to his parents - and looked at me as if I was a ghost. I suppose to him that's what I was: a ghost of his past (woah that rhymed).

Bastien appeared as splendid as ever with his olive skin and black hair, unruly curls that seemed too soft. I was baffled by his eyes that looked the exact same way as one year ago, which was logical because eyes aren't supposed to change, you idiot.

Before I could stop myself, I started speaking: without a greeting, not exactly politely and coming straight to the point. "I need you to help me kidnap Grandmère." Great. Kidnap. When did I come up with that?

"Why ask me?" Bastien didn't sound weirded out, simply curious. He didn't ask me to repeat myself, didn't ask me if I was crazy and didn't ask why.

"Because you have a car." It sounded better and far more logical in my head. Oh well.

"Okay, I'll help." He shrugged as if it was the most common thing to kidnap a grandma - though it wasn't really kidnapping and he probably knew that, but that's beside the point.

I blinked several times to make sure he was serious, but he didn't start laughing and I didn't wake up. "Oh. Well, that was easier then I thought," I answered with a nervous chuckle. "So when can I borrow your car?"

He shot me a mischievious smile. "You won't borrow my car. I'll come with you."

A/n Sorry for the sort of cliffhanger. Soooo, this is how it all started. Any thoughts so far? Maybe questions?
Oh and this obviously needs to be edited, I know.