#devinstone.task003

OOC notes: Initially I wrote this all in French and then translated the whole thing because who wants to read some sad crap in French? Not me! Some of the drama got lost in translation, but I did my absolute best. Just keep in mind that this conversation happened in French, since that’s the language the Lombardi’s speak at home. Thank you for reading and I’m sorry this got way too long! Oh, bonus, listen to this.

There were still decorations scattered all over the house. There were empty boxes piling out by the couch, on the dining table, and others squeezed between the bars of the stairs. Monica and Christian did not have time to finish the tree before they left for Massachussetts. Their tradition involved a lot of traveling and planning, but they tried the best to adapt themselves. Having two Christmases was not something anyone would ever complain.

Besides, it made the kids laugh when they saw the chaos that their childhood house had become. A tornado swept ornaments and tiny Christmas-y features all over the place, which gave the house a funny, but merry, look.

As per usual, Christian and his daughter busied themselves in the kitchen for most of the day. Monica and her son worked on cleaning the place and doing laundry. They all reunited around the dining table with a delicious feast and plenty of things to talk about. Adamo did most of the talking, but no one was surprised by that. Alessandra put an end to his monologue when she suggested they cleared the coffee table in the living room and pulled out her old Disney princesses themed monopoly board game for their traditional tournament. The father agreed with excitement and poured chips and other snacks into bowls to finish the evening, watching their favorite holiday movie, which was Barbie in the Nutcracker. No matter how old she became, it would always be Sandrine’s favorite thing about the celebrations. She would get up, and helped by her brother, they would do some of the pas de deux or bits of the Sugar Plum Fairy dance. Their parents would cheer, their heart filled with old memories from the previous years.

It was always the same. Outside, there would be so much snow cars could barely drive down the street. They could hear the loud chatters and noises from families nearbies. Italians really did it better.

It was around eight or nine in the evening and, usually by then, everyone was too tired from their flight to stay up any longer. Adamo was already in his old bedroom, snoring loudly. Christian was watching the weather channel to confirm their plans for the next day, which was to watch all the special television shows. And Sandrine would, too, get upstairs but, before she started walking up, she was stopped by her mother.

“Sandrine, will you help me clean the dishes?”

“Mom, I’m exhausted. Can we do that tomorrow?“

“No, come with me, now.” Nikki’s voice rarely sounded so strict and insisting.

She followed her mom to the kitchen and they both stood by the counter, staring at each other. Sandrine started feeling all strange inside, like a knot was being tied in her guts. Something was wrong.

“I talked to your brother about this a while ago and I wanted to wait to have you all here to tell you about it.”

“Why are you so serious mom? You don’t want to make brunch tomorrow, is that it? It’s fine, Dad already suggested we take it easy and we’re all good with —.”

“No, listen to me.” Monica marked a pause. “Do you remember when you came with me and granny to her first appointment, at the hospital? It was before your last competition. You practiced your pirouettes in the waiting room and everyone was cheering for you. You looked so cute with your little costume.”

“I was like seventeen or something! I wasn’t cute! I was panicking because I skipped rehearsals! I don’t see how that’s cute. It’s not because I’m short and I looked like a child that those strangers had the right to patronize me —.”

“I told you to wait for us, while I went with granny. And you waited, because you were always the best girl. And when we walked out, you knew something was not okay... You said you had a...”

“Knot in my stomach.” It was Alessandra’s turn to cut off her mother. “I remember that. We had just learned that Nonna was not doing good. Why are you telling me all this?”

“And we tried to keep it from you for the longest time, but we failed. You were always with me and with dad, and with Nonna. You knew something was off when we asked you to go out with your friends or to go grab a slushie because we needed to talk about grown-up things.”

“What are you trying to say? That you treated me like a child when I was an adult? I know all that already.”

“Do you have that feeling right now?”

Alessandra nodded. It was not just a knot, it felt like a blade piercing through her insides.

“Yes, and...?”

“I have cancer.”

"What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, this can’t be right. You told me your last checkup was perfect... You went like two weeks ago! It was just some random bump. You got so many scans and tests done! They all came up fine!”

“Alessandra Serafina Lombardi, for once, stop talking.”

So, she did. Alessandra was spiralling. She held on the counter when she felt her knees shaking under her weight. She looked over to the living room and Christina was switching the television channels absentmindedly. He was stuck on some hunting and fishing show. He hated hunting and fishing.

“Wait... You said you told Adam...”

“Yes. We told him last summer.”

“Last summer?!” Nothing was making sense anymore.

Her mother was trying to explain herself. She found out she had traces of cancer in her breasts and ovaries last summer, and refused to go through any sort of treatment. She knew all too well how it went, she forced her own mother to go under so many therapies and to take so many pills. She explained Sandrine that she was going to take drugs to ease the pain and see how it progressed. That was why she pushed back all the tests until her doctor insisted. Last summer, the cancer was small and could be easily treated, but, as of now, it was a whole other story. Nikki added that her dad would close the restaurant for a few months, until all the papers would be ready to pass it on to his sous-chef for good. They also said they would use some of the money Corinna gave them at her death to pay for the medicine. All that Alessandra heard was a long, loud, buzzing in her ears.

“Why did you not tell me?”

“We did not want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?! That’s the funniest thing ever. You thought telling me my mom is dying after the whole world knew would not hurt me?”

“You are too sensitive, Alessandra.”

“I’m not sensitive. I’m tired.” She slammed her fist on the kitchen counter. “I’m not a baby anymore! You can’t hide things from me! You can’t do that to your own daughter! We had this conversation when Nonna got too sick. What did you do with it? Throw it in the fucking trash, right along your common sense that could have reminded you to inform your other child?”

She had always been the other, lesser child. She tried not to care too much about it, to forgive and forget. But it was beginning to eat her alive.

“Alessandra, be respectful.” Christian shouted from the living room.

“You don’t even know what respect is.”

“We protected you until your mother made up her mind and decided not to get treated. We did not want you to live with the same uncertainty as we did!”

“All you did was hiding the truth from me.”

She stormed out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs. Her steps were loud and heavy. As she made it to her old room, she found her brother blocking the way. She started slapping and punching his chest, struggling to have him move at all. Adamo opened his mouth, as if anything he could ever say would make the situation better. Before he could make a sound, Alessandra managed to push him and walk inside, her hand holding the door knob so firmly that her knuckles turned white. She spoke, only to slam the door at his face.

 “Family should never lie to one another."

If life got busy it was tough luck and if one lived life as one William Moritz Wolf did, then the lives of everyone else needed saving before his own. His entire adolescence was spent in and out of hospitals, in and out of doctor’s offices, in and out of treatment centers. He loved his annoyingly careful parents with his whole heart, but life had never seemed as worth it as it did when his disorder and he were not at the center of it anymore. And life was busy enough right now for him to forget fully about himself and do what he did best instead. Soothe others, care for them, save them.

   They usually rotated on air ambulance duty, and while Will suspected it was still because they did not entirely trust him, the newly certified flight paramedic, it didn’t bother him as much as he initially thought it would. It kept him close to the 027 Fire Department-- his home and family that had seen all too little of Will the weeks leading up to his final examinations and away from getting too close to the pretty nurses that he sometimes was made to sit in the small aerial space for hours. And as he made his way into Jefferson Health for the first 12-hour shift this week, his eyes made a bee-line for the prettiest one to join him yet. He had always liked the nurses better than doctors, regardless of whether they were women or not; they took their time and liked to indulge in his lulling stories with charms, even if they were just as busy as anybody else in the hospital. She (later found out to be named Sami) seemed no exception to this rule as she entertained him throughout the shift by dropping by and giving various kinds of information in exchange for a joke or two.

   Air ambulances had the ring of great risks and adrenaline, but there was a lot less glamour attached to the job that one would hope. Transporting corpseless, artificially kept-alive organs through the state like a butcher delivery service irked Will. As morbid as it sounded, he was happy for every real emergency that sent their way to get away from the everyday duties that left him never knowing whose life was altered. Who was saved or not? Getting one Harmony Logan off of Mount Washington after a biking accident sounded a lot more like helping a person than arbitrarily pushing former human body parts around for hours to Will.   “And hey, Will, maybe we can get together for after-shift drinks” Sami’s words cut right through his train of thought as the paramedic got into the helicopter for the sixth time for the day, the third of which with her. “Sure” he’d told her absentmindedly, willing to push whatever really had been his post-shift plans for another couple hours without much of a second thought. They got up in the air in a good enough mood at three thirty-one pm and would most likely return before five;  average day, well enough outcome.

If life got busy it was tough luck and as the impact of the crash hit Will’s chest and neck, a realization hit him with almost the same brutal force. His date for the night had supposed to be the I.V. bag lying at home for five days too long. When life got busy, he was playing with his life on luck. Two missed days of treatment of factor eight and he knew what the natural percentage of his clotting factor returned to. Still, his first instinct was to look for Sami and the pilot. He was the paramedic and a bloody cough would not stop him from any of it. Will was out to assume the worst at all scenes, but as his heart steadily pumped at a heightened rate his eyes already seized the young nurse stirring on the ground as though she’d only been knocked to her knees in a clumsy tumble. All fine. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth in relief, helping Sami to her feet in almost the same motion that he used to lean into the cockpit and assure himself of person number two. Anger mixed with atonement came billowing out of the pilot's mouth, too preoccupied with his mistake in the too harsh landing to respond to Will’s questions on his state of being but lively and on the move in their limited space that he, too, seemed fine. All back to himself then.

   His hand gently felt over his uniformed chest where he had brutally hit the inner walls of the helicopter. Dry as ever, no skin had broken at the place or any other and sent a wave of relief through Will’s body. Maybe, just maybe it would be fine until they got back. He’d rush to the E.R. and have someone hook him up as the last minutes of his break rung in. “We can’t take off” The repeating sentence, almost screamed in anger by the pilot, shouldn’t have been the first indicator that things weren’t fine anymore, but Will was determined not to be what his genetics dictated him to be. Fine, fine, fine his mind repeated with every step he made outside of the helicopter to look for whom they had come there for, fine he told himself as the metallic taste of blood started to replace any other sensation he felt and pooled in his mouth, only for him to spit the mixture if it and saliva onto the ground. Fine until the color of what now continuously wet the ground grew darker, redder, thicker. Until the masses of it forced Will to his knees this time, and a scream rung in his ears as though a tragedy unfolded before somebody’s eyes. But where?

   All he saw was the full terror and absolute horror in the girl’s eyes as she kneeled above his body. His mind knew that there’s nothing she could do for him but his instincts now screamed louder than any coherent thought for her to help him, save him from what was happening inside. Do anything than let him miserably choke on his own blood that wouldn’t just stop flowing, giving his life the short few final minutes until his body would either shut down completely or it found its way into his lungs and suffocated him first. For every breath he took now, there was a mouthful of the warm, red liquid that stained the surrounding ground and his face to make way for air that barely found its way inside. This was not supposed to be how it ended. There was no peace in his mind or heart and no one else to blame but himself. Suddenly he was at the center of everything again and there was nothing to do but bleed and slowly fade away to nothingness. The wetness on his face was not exclusively what was drained of him, but sudden tears. Only his own, he thought for a split moment, but what vision he’d left told him that they dripped down from Sami’s face, screwed up in shock, where they’d meet his.

   He was not twenty-five at that time as much as he was four years old when he first cut his hand and would not stop bleeding. He was thirteen and had gotten punched in the face at school for the first time with his teachers freaking out. He was twenty-one and on the doorstep of his parents for the first time in months, beaten and bruised. He was all those boys, but he was ultimately alone even with his hand held and faces surrounding his failing body. They couldn’t know what to do, Will had never told anyone about it, refused to acknowledge or bear the alert bracelet and would be one of many bleeder’s to bleed out for his own actions. It felt like trying to scream underwater to tell them what was wrong with him, why his body reacted so severely while everyone else’s did nothing, only that water didn’t drain his body and energy from it. Hemo was as far as he’d get before coughing fits and the struggle to breathe pushed aside any more attempts to vocalize. There was only one or the other, and the one thing kept him alive though unclear for how long when even pushing out the breath started to burn like every drop of blood he lost was replaced with fire burning the insides of his lungs. Will started to count his breaths, trying to slow his heart from pumping so rapidly to his demise but to no avail. It paradoxically tried to fight him instead of fighting for him. Eight. Nine. Ten. He barely even felt anything entering him with breath ten and knew, that should his body muster up another one, it would be his last. His hand clutched, harder than before, at Sami’s and blue eyes wide like never before-

Eleven.

There was that day, and then there were the six weeks of recovery after to learn what happened after breath eleven. Many days of that time were spent in the same walls of Jefferson Health that he’d left then so carefree, never to return the same. His brain was full-functional but the body too weak to leave, so that waking nights were too hard to escape. Closing his eyes haunted him, made him afraid it would be the last time that the motion would fulfill itself, so every morning a nurse was greeted with a faint smile paired with bloodshot blue eyes that had evaded the dark once more to pass out in the daylight, only to repeat the motions day for day. They never were Sami’s eyes that he would meet though, and as he asked for her or how she’d been doing, they told him that she had quit at Jefferson. There was no judgment, only bitterness that remained like the metallic taste on his tongue like a torturous reminder that he had done this to her. Gotten into an impossible situation and forced her to look on as he bled out onto her. Who would blame her?

“I invited you to move out with me, not to make my ears bleed, you tiny monster.”

Sandrine’s head appeared from the mountain of boxes piled up around her. Her glare was icy and she could swear she almost noticed lasers coming out of her eyes. “How dare you insult Lana Del Rey? She’s is the best thing that happened to the music industry since Britney Spears.”

“Go back to your country!” Adamo threatened playfully as his sister repeated Fucked My Way Up to The Top for the hundredth time on the tiny radio she insisted on squeezing somewhere in her luggages. She insisted on bringing this and her entire collection of CDs, although he promised he’d show her how to use iTunes. He gave up when she could not even spot which app it was on her phone.

“Don’t pretend like I didn’t see you shake your booty to West Coast earlier.” She poked her tongue out.

“Why do you even like her? You’re not dating rich grandpas and you’ve never done weed. You can’t relate to her music at all.”

“I relate to the esthétique.”

“Aesthetic. Geez, you gotta work on your accent. How are you supposed to learn Bostonian slang if you can’t even speak English?”

They called for a truce when she threw him a scrunched up ball of newspaper she used to stuff the boxes, reaching her target easily. They decided to switch the music to Young the Giant’s latest album as they unpacked the rest of their belongings. They did not miss their chance of screaming Mind Over Matter at the top of their lungs either. Adamo had only gotten his hands on the beautiful loft. It was located downtown, in a young and hip area of Boston. It was quite the ride from the arena the Bruins used to practice and train, but he enjoyed to be in the middle of the action. It almost reminded him of Montréal. The loft was gigantic for a single man. Everything was white or stainless silver. It lacked of personality. It was lifeless, much like his previous apartment when his parents or his sister did not visit him.

When she talked to him about her plans to visit Massachussetts on her own, an idea popped in his mind. She had been wasting her money over all of these crappy hotel rooms for way too long, and he happened to need help unpacking and settling down in his new home. He killed two birds with one stone and offered Alessandra to be his roommate. When they were younger, they dreamed of moving in together. They had their whole thing set up: they would buy the house right next to their parents’ and live like adults, unless it was dinner time or they had laundry to do. Then, they would only have to travel back to mom’s and dad’s and not deal with any boring responsabilities. Their dream died the day he got his offer to join Boston’s hockey team, and, although he hated to admit it, he regretted breaking Sandrine’s heart and illusion of their perfect roommate life.

Soon enough, everything was set into place. The only thing missing was the furniture. All they had was a big mattress, a television, an oven and a fridge. The rest was supposed to be delivered the next day. And that was because Alessandra noticed Adamo confused the delivery dates and argued with the representants until they agreed to fix the situation. She did not fail to remind him how essential she was to his existence. To which he agreed.

God knew how much he loved his sister — worse, how much he needed her. When he moved out of Canada, he felt empty inside. It was like someone stole a piece of his heart and never put it back. He had no one to pour cereal for in the morning, even though he bought several boxes of her favorite ones just by habit. He had no one to comfort during a thunderstorm, knowing how terrified it made her and that she only fell asleep if he held her close. He had no one to cook with at two in the morning when he craved cupcakes, as she made the best ones he ever tasted. He had no one to go to when girls broke his heart, no one to cheer him up, no one to cheer up either. He no longer saw her skate, or helped her for that matter. He ignored what she was up to while they were so used to sneaking some little notes into class in High School just to make sure everything was fine. He had no one to go out with, as none of his new friends compared to Sandrine. She was lively, bubbly, she was filled with kindness and naivety. She understood him better than everyone else. Alessandra was his other half, his much, much better half.

Losing his sister was one of the worst moments of his life. It happened so many years ago and still, the pain was still sharp. And the guilt? Even more hurtful. She did not want to let go of him at the airport when their parents drove him there. She made a whole scene, to the point security guards had to pull them apart. She was crying and kicking and fighting to run back to him, and she escaped from the guards’ grip enough times that Christian, their father, had to pull her by the arm and force her back to the car. She was so feisty, she could win any fights on the ice like those stupid players who pretended they were Rocky Balboa. He tried to be the most mature one, to act tough and pretend he would be finally liberated without his little annoying sister, but he could not fight the tears as he got on the plane.

And there she was again. The soulmates were back together, but something felt so different. There was a distance between them, both emotional and physical. She went to University, she grew up as an individual, her dreams changed. But she remained the same flawless human being he protected all his life. And him? Sometimes he did not even know who he was anymore. Since he refused to let her sleep directly on the floor and gave her the mattress, which he put in the bedroom, they were on both ends of the loft. Instead, he used his old camping sleeping bag and stared at the moon through the window. Yet, he could still hear her roll over on the mattress. He heard the sound of choked sobbing.

Adam could not support it. It was like the dagger piercing through his heart came back around and tore him apart. He stood up to look through the open boxes and found a pink stuffed bunny. He remembered when he bought it at Toys R Us, twenty something years ago when his parents announced him they were expecting a little baby. He named her Rosie, because his sister reminded him of a rose. She was fragile like the petals, yet strong and resistant like the thorns.

“I cried so much when I moved here the first time, I had to put my pillow in the dryer every night... For three months.” Adam confessed with a small grin, as he leaned on the doorframe of the room Sandrine was sleeping in. He kept the bunny in his hands, watching it closely. She kept it in pristine condition. It looked the same as when his stupid three years-old self chose it in the store.

She sniffed soundly, hiding her head under her old Barbie themed bed sheets that she brought, knowing very well he forgot to buy her a set. “Yeah, right. The only thing you cried for was when you thought Marie-Mai was dating the singer of Simple Plan in that music video and not you.”

“Ouch, that’s a tough throwback for my ego.”

He heard a timid wave of laughter coming from the coccoon. He decided to kneel beside her, waving the stuffed animal near her until she dared to give a look outside.

“I’m such a child — .”

“No.” Adam cut her off before she started her routine of insults and guilt. He hated when she did that, when she did not believe she was worth all the treasures in the world. “You are the most mature person I have ever met.” A pair of suspicious eyebrows appeared from under the covers. “Tu m’as manquée.”

She did not recall the last time he told her he missed her. He stopped opening up about his feelings to be more like his hockey teammates, stupid, douchey and gross. And ever since that moment, she felt as if she was blood related to a complete stranger.

“Come on, get up on your short legs. I’ll make you some chocolat chaud.”

She could not resist his offer and followed him, hugging him from behind and struggling to keep up with his wide steps. She teasingly wiped her eyes on his shirt and stained it, knowing he hated when she used to do that. “I feel so alone.”

“Me too.”

“Mamie left us...” Even though she tried her very hardest, she still could not get over her grandmother passing away. Corinna was the glue to their family, and nobody knew where they would be today if it was not of this lady who sacrificed so much for her loved ones. “And then you left me.” She let the warmth of the cup of warm milk and cocoa powder dry her tears, well, metaphorically speaking. “I have nobody. I am lonely.”

He wrapped her in his arms, resting his head on top of hers. He almost forgot how small she was, yet, she was stronger and stood above everybody else. Her heart was bigger than every Bostonian citizens’ combined. He hated himself for being the one who broke it that day in the airport.

“You’re not lonely anymore.” He said the words, almost like a promise. It was a dangerous promise, one he already knew he could not keep. “We’ll get through this.” Adamo spoke softly into her ear. “Together.”

“Together, forever.”

5 APRIL

She sat watching the news with the baby on her lap. He was three, he shouldn’t be seeing this, but Aveline had to know. She cringed with every mention of the word ‘bomb’ until she muted the telly altogether, just scanning the background of every scene for any trace of her parents.

“They won’t be there, Aveline,” said her grandmother, who somehow knew what Avie was doing despite being entirely blind. Elliot scrambled off his sister’s lap and crawled toward his Nana. She must have felt that somehow, too, because she reached out for him and held him close. All that time, Avie’s eyes didn’t leave the screen.

“You don’t know that,” she protested, “they said they were going to Yugoslavia, didn’t they? And now...” She didn’t want to watch this, she didn’t want to worry whether her parents were in the middle of a NATO bombing, she didn’t want to be angry with them for going to the middle of a warzone to protest the war, like that would do anything at all, especially when it meant leaving their children to look after themselves. But she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t have a choice in anything.

They’d left five weeks ago. Avie had bought a train ticket to Nana’s house in Cornwall about two weeks in, when she realized they weren’t coming back for a while and she was running low on food.

Her parents had never been very good at being parents, she knew that. And mostly, she was fine with it. She had lived through her childhood just fine. But when she was seven, she’d been able to cook for herself and dress herself and they’d figured their job was done. Apparently having another baby didn’t change that. He was her problem now.

Her eyes only pried away from the television when her grandmother spoke next. “He’s making that noise again.”

Nana could hear better than anyone; she said that it was losing her sight that heightened her other senses, but Avie always suspected she was at least part owl. She stood up and walked to where Nana held Elliot and she heard it, too. 

It was like a normal toddler’s babbling, but with no varied pitch. Just monotone gibberish that sounded more spooky than sweet. He’d always been a strange child. Never danced, never sang, never said ‘mama’ or ‘dada’ or any other words. Aveline wasn’t even sure he knew his own name. She blamed herself, of course. She was the one who’d raised him.

“Aveline...” Nana said slowly, “take Elliot and sit him on the couch. Make sure he can’t see me.”

Avie was confused, but did as instructed.

"I’m going to break this vase. Try not to react, okay?”

Avie was even more confused, but nodded.

The sound of shattering glass against the hardwood floor was sharp as the shards that scattered around the room. Aveline held her breath and did her best not to jump.

Nana was blind and couldn’t see Elliot, sitting on the couch, happily babbling in his monotone voice, as though nothing had happened.

Nana couldn’t see. Elliot couldn’t hear. Aveline was very aware that she was the only one in her family who had any idea what was happening.

12 JUNE

Avie didn’t speak to her parents in the waiting room of the audiologist. She hadn’t spoken to them the whole drive over, either. She wondered if they were feeling the cold shoulder from her, or if they had even noticed at all.

They were talking amongst themselves, and they had the nerve to laugh at something, and Aveline wanted to scream and shout and break a vase, but she wiped a tear instead and kept silent.

They learned that day what Aveline had known for months at this point. Elliot was deaf. He wasn’t born that way, it had happened sometime in the past two years. Since he hadn’t seen a doctor in that time, they couldn’t be sure why.

Avie was sure it was her fault.

She cried all the way home, thankful at least that her baby brother couldn’t hear her sobs.

14 OCTOBER

Aveline’s 14th birthday. She should have been just starting to leave her childhood behind. She should have been at a sleepover with a bunch of girlfriends, giggling over boys, doing magazine quizzes and watching Disney films. Instead, she was sobbing in her grandmother’s arms after they said goodbye to her baby brother.

It was a good thing, he was free from their parents - they both were. Avie would live with Nana until she turned 16 and Elliot would be cared for by a family who knew how to help him. It was good. This was good. A fresh start for everyone.

Everything was going to be fine.

Nana made dinner and Aveline visited the animals. She fed a baby deer, and petted a wood mouse, and bandaged the leg of a red squirrel, and she felt a little better.

Later that night, she finished her homework and signed her name at the top corner: