translations at the bottom:)
"I'm going out to get groceries, Maelle," Maelle's mother told her, her French accent seeping through into the English words, "C'est comme ça que tu le dis, oui?"¹
Maelle nodded enthusiastically. Teaching her mother how to speak English was definitely not a project she wanted to take on at first, but she had grown to love the quality time with her. As the only semi-fluent English speaker in her family, it became her job to converse with everyone that they met that didn't speak their native tongue.
Maelle's parent's decision to send her to an English high school had certainly payed off in the long, though it was extremely difficult at the beginning.
"Vas-y chercher les épiceries," Maelle said, waving her off with a laugh, "je t'aime, maman,"²
Her mother laughed along with her and left the house, leaving Maelle alone in front of the television until her father returned from work.
She flipped through the channels, landing on Friends, her favourite english show. Though some would argue, she remained set on the fact that Friends was the best show on television, much better than shows like The Office.
Maelle watched until she heard a harsh knock on the door. Assuming that it was either her father returning from work, having forgotten his key, as usual, or her mother, with armfuls of groceries, she took her sweet time making her way towards the door.
The idea of the police being behind the door was never one that crossed her mind.
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Her father's hand grasped her's under the table, helping her maintain her sanity in the improbable situation they had been caught in.
He had arrived home a few minutes following the arrival of the police, only leaving the police enough time to tell Maelle what had happened before his arrival. When her after arrived, she was forced to endure the news again.
"She was found dead on the scene," They had repeated for her father, but Maelle found the news as surreal as the first time she heard it.
"Elle est morte, papa,"³ Maelle, whispered, translating the news for her father, who she knew would just assume he had heard the police incorrectly. He was quite good in english, but he would rather just be bad at english than know that his wife was dead. If he decided that he couldn't get the right translation, he would have decided to life in denial.
"Nous nous excusons, nous avons assumé que vous parliez l'anglais. Nous pouvons vous parler en français, si vous le preferriez,"⁴ The police officer apologized for the language barrier in their native tongue. It wasn't their fault, since when she answered the door for them, she had originally spoken english.
She did that sometimes- switching between languages - sadly, it was never at the most convenient times.
"How did it happen?" She continued to speak English, knowing fully that her father could understand her perfectly. She didn't know why, but she couldn't speak the language her mother had taught her at that moment, she just couldn't, "How did she die?"
The police officer blinked slowly, "She was hit by a vehicle crossing the street. We're not absolutely sure what happened, but we will have more information soon," He told us, letting out a sigh.
Maelle knew that wasn't the end of the story. She had withheld enough information to know when somebody was doing the same, "What else? What was she hit by? Have they caught the person who did this?" She asked, spitting out the questions one by one, even though she saw that her father wasn't following her rapid-fire English.
"A dump truck," The second police officer said, "she was hit by a dump truck. The man behind the wheel was Jean-Paul Allard. He's the one who called for an ambulance and wouldn't leave your mother," He told Maelle and her father, though after hearing it, Maelle wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"She's gone," Maelle whispered to herself, "she's really gone. Hit by a dump truck," She laughed to herself, while tears flowed freely down her cheeks, "who would've thought,"
"Stop laughing," Her father snapped, speaking for the first time since he found out, "this is not something to laugh about. There is nothing to laugh about, Maelle,"
That was enough to snap her out of it, "I'm sorry, papa," She said, tears still running down her face.
He sighed dejectedly, "No, I'm sorry, Maelle. I didn't mean to snap," He wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
The first police officer cleared his throat, "We should give you both some time. If you have any questions, feel free to come down to the station,"
"Thank you," Maelle responds, voice raspy from the crying that she was doing.
"We'll be fine," Her father said to the police officer, his voice breaking.
Maelle looked up at her father, the newly appointed widower, and began to seek comfort in the comfort she could give him, "We'll be just fine," She told him.
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a/n: welcome!!! my name is danz and I will be co-writing this book with my buddy adele !!1! this will probably be one of the only times that theres french in the book, since we understand that it could be very annoying to all you non-french speakers out there.
soooooo for the translations!!!
¹ - That's how you say it, right?
² - Go get the groceries — I love you, mom
³ - She's dead, dad
⁴ - We're sorry, we just assumed that you speak English. We can communicate in French, if you'd prefer
YOU ARE READING
Adopted by Stromae
Fanfiction-this story is written in english- Maëlle Vaillancourt, left parentless by an accident that claimed the life of her mother and a drug addiction that claimed the liberty of her father, had no other options. In hands and under the protection of social...
