Page 133 of The Stranger

“That women are less?” I shake my head. “If I ever did, meeting your mother put me straight.”

“Sometimes I don’t remember her so well,” he says sadly. “Primrose says when we miss Maman, we can close our eyes and think of her, and our hearts will fill with love.”

“Did she?” Something twists strangely inside me.

He nods. “It feels like my chest is filled with sunshine.”

“Love can feel like that.”

“Maman would be disappointed in how I have behaved.” As his eyes brim with tears, I find myself fighting a lump in my own throat.

“No.” I reach out, putting my hand to his slender shoulder. “She would never be disappointed in you.” I touch my hand to his hair. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t strive to do better. We all should.” The strange twist deepens. I should take my own advice. Respect Primrose’s choices and leave her the fuck alone. I haven’t touched her since that morning in my office, though I’ve undressed her with my gaze a thousand times. And she knows it.

“I didn’t mean to tell Sylvie that being a boy made me better. I just mean I am better than her at Uno. And swimming. But she’s better at drawing and horse riding, and she makes people smile with her jokes and silly dances. I can’t do that.”

“Maybe you ought to tell her the things she’s good at.”

He gives a jerky nod. “I will.”

I push on. “In your life, the way you behave towards a person with your words is going to make that person feel this way or that, whether you mean it to or not. You must be mindful of this happening.”

“I will, I promise.”

“And as you grow, how you use your body will make a person feel those same feelings.”

“You mean because I will be bigger than them?”

“Yes.” Physically. Socially. “That goes for your sister and your classmates, the girls in your future you will date. Just be aware.”

His next nod is pensive. “I want to be a good man. Like you.”

I don’t have an answer for that. “You don’t have to fix the whole world, son. But you can make sure you aren’t helping to make your sister feel smaller in hers.”

“May I go and talk with her?” He looks like he’d rather not, and that’s what makes it more important that he does.

“I think she’d like that.”

He stands, then lifts his chair under the table. “I will try better.”

“That’s all any of us can do.”

As he leaves the terrace, Primrose comes the other way. Her smile is a soft thing just for him. In return, he gives a very formal nod. Does she see he’s just a kid? That he will do better? I don’t want her to judge him, I suppose.

“He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders,” she says as she watches him disappear into the house, leaving me free to look at her without being caught. Concern lingers in the small crease between her brows. The sweep of her lashes, the honey-gold of her hair, and the luscious mouth I have far too many sensory memories of.

She is, quite simply, lovely.

And now she’s looking at me. Busted, as Felix might say.

“Everything okay?” Her steps turning hesitant as she draws closer to where I stand. She makes a gesture as though asking me to sit. I don’t.

“Yes, I think so.” My gaze slides to the house as though following my son. “He’s going to apologize to his sister.” Maybe I should do the same to Primrose, but perhaps it wouldn’t be sincere. She isn’t threatened by me. Exasperated, maybe. Tempted, occasionally. Even aroused once or twice. “How is Sylvie?”

“She fine.” The smile she gives at my daughter’s name gets me right in my chest. “She’s ready to hear him out.”

“Good.” I run my hand down the front of my shirt. Her eyes track then bounce away. “That is good.”

“That weight on his shoulders,” she says, her eyes on the doors again. “I heard a little of what you said to him. I was impressed. Anyway,” she adds quickly before I can ask if that has helped my cause. “I’m just here to grab my shoes. Last time I left them out here, I lost them for days to the pool guy.”