Page 51 of The Stranger

I turned her in my arms, wanting to kiss her, but planning to push her away. Her eyes gray- blue and so trusting, like they’d been that night. The privacy of a darkened hallway, those few moments of pleasure. She blinked, her lashes moistening. Her mouth was wet, and in my mind, I dropped to my heels again.

Death, life, and sex are fundamental certainties, all inextricably linked.

I should’ve ordered the jet for her right then.

Trauma, the past, it has a way of creeping into your life when you least expect it. For a long time after her death, my memories of losing Allegra were painfully fresh. These days, they’re like moments in time, tiny flashbacks, often without any real context. The pain has lessened, not because I didn’t love her because I loved her with my whole heart.

“How was Andiamo?” I turn to Sylvie, done with these thoughts. Thoughts I can take nowhere. Do nothing with.

“She was so happy to see me! She likes it when I’m visiting.”

“She likes you because you took her an apple,” Felix mutters.

“She was happy to see and the apple,” she says, thumbing her nose at her brother.

“And Sophia?” The sharp jerk of Felix’s head tells me more than I’d like to know. “Did you take her an apple, too?” While I address Sylvie, it’s my son I’m studying as he frowns at his plate. It’s worrying how quickly time passes. I dread the day his interest in girls becomes more than academic.

“No, but Maria made Torta Dominguera—and it isn’t even Sunday!” Sylvie laughs the whole way through her little joke.

“That’s not even funny,” Felix grumbles.

“It would seem that Sunday cake eaten on Thursday is no longer amusing to a person of Felix’s grand age.”

“Cake is fun any day of the week,” my daughter says, prodding the remains of her meal.

“That’s because you’re an imbecile,” he mutters under his breath.

“Apologize to your sister.”

“I’m sorry you’re an imbecile, Sylvie.”

“Felix,” I say, my tone low with warning.

“It’s okay, Papa. Felix is good at a lot of things. Just not insults,” she says, scooping a forkful of tomato into her mouth. It doesn’t stop her grinning, her little legs swinging back and forth under the tabletop. “I am too happy to be unhappy today.”

“That’s something we should all aspire to be.”

“Amen,” mutters our nanny.

It takes everything inside me not to look her way.

“I would like to be excused from the table,” Felix announces in rapid-fire French.

“Before dessert?” I question.

“I find I am no longer hungry.”

“He’s just in a bad mood because I would not go away and leave him with Sophia. He said he’d give me fifty euros if I did.”

“That’s not true,” he says with a glower.

“Yes, it is! You said you would pay me money to leave you alone with Sophia, and I told you that Sophia is my friend, and I wouldn’t leave her with you for any reason.”

“Fait chier!” Fuck this shit. His chair screeches as he jumps up, breathing like a bull.

“Felix, go to your room,” I say immediately.

His movements are very deliberate as he pushes his chair back under the table. “Good evening.” He almost bows, and I almost laugh but rein in my amusement long enough for him to leave the room with dignity. As he reaches the door, his shoulders rise and fall with deep breath.