Page 152 of Blue Gold

It wasn’t that I was oblivious to the pain I caused my loved ones, but I knew I was too weak to do anything about it.

“I’ll let you rest,” Maman said before leaving my room.

Alone again, I closed my eyes, hoping to fall asleep and not dream of him.

I dozed off for a while, only to wake up shivering. My teeth chattered from the cold as I struggled to get up from the bed, taking the blanket with me on my way to the closet. My hand trembled when I stretched it forward to pull out warmer clothes, and after a short struggle, I managed to put on a couple more layers. But even with thick wool wrapping around me, I was still cold.

Slowly, I walked out of my room, my skin tingling each time my bare foot touched the wooden floor of the house.

I should have worn socks.

Reaching our small kitchen, I saw nobody was home. Not that it mattered, since I was too tired to hold a conversation and only wanted to make myself a hot cup of tea that would hopefully warm me up. Walking over to grab the kettle, I saw the plate Maman had left for me on the counter. Ignoring it, I took the kettle and filled it with water before placing it on the stove to heat up. While waiting, my eyes once again wandered back to the plate, the smells filling my nostrils. I looked away from it once more, my pulse ticking and my mouth growing dry. Changing my mind, I snatched it from the counter and took it outside to the yard, tossing away the foil before emptying the stew into our dog’s food bowl.

“Lulu,” I called her with a whistle, until she came running with her tail wagging behind.

She went for the food right away, eating it with an appetite while spilling all over. While she ate, I reached down to pet her. Her dark coat was soft to the touch, but soon, the kettle whistling on the stove brought me back inside, where I made that cup of tea.

“Why the hell are you dressed like that?”

I looked at the doorway to see my younger brother standing there. Shirtless, with a football tucked under his arm and his body covered with sweat, he stared at me, his forehead creased with annoyance.

“Oh, Aloïs, you’re home.” I smiled at him, but all he did in return was roll his eyes. Tossing the ball to the floor, he then walked straight to the fridge.

I turned around and watched him pull out a carton of milk. Opening it, he drank straight from the carton, his throat working as he swallowed it down before he finished, cleaned his lips, and put it back in. He’d grown taller since I last saw him, broader, too, looking like a young man now.

“Again, why are you dressed like that? It’s boiling outside,” he snarled, shutting the fridge door with a kick, but not before pulling out a pot. Walking toward me, he nearly bumped my shoulder as he placed it on the stove, right next to the kettle.

“And what are you, ninety? Who drinks tea?”

“I… I felt cold.”

He shook his head. “That’s because you don’t eat anything. Maman says you’re sick.”

I am.

“So it’s true?” He side-eyed me. “Is that why you came back?”

“No.” I forced a smile. “I just missed you guys.”

He huffed. “You expect me to believe that? As if someone would miss this shithole after living like you did in America.”

Placing my hand on the counter, I looked around the kitchen, remembering all the memories we had here. “No…” Nostalgia crept up on me. “This place is lovely.”

“Sure.” He snorted, and we fell into silence.

“Maman also said you live there with someone. Who’s he?” he asked.

Feeling like I was kicked in the stomach, I looked down. “Aloïs⁠—”

“He’s rich, isn’t he?”

I could feel my pulse in my cheeks. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure. If that’s what you say.”

My stomach clenched, and I scratched my wrist. “His name is⁠—”

The sound of a cabinet door opening cut me off midsentence, and I realized he wasn’t even listening.