«I should've asked you questions. I should've asked you how to be.»
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Her grandmother would think of it as unnecessary, she thought, looking straight at the golden urn containing her ashes. She would say that people should seek and celebrate one another in life, not in death, but that she understood it was some sort of ritual of acceptance. One last time to see those who would not be there anymore. Salma swallowed the lump in her throat. Death was such a strange thing. For twenty-six years her grandmother had been there, she didn't know a life without her, and now she'd have to learn it for the years to come. Because there was no more Maman Cécile. How weird.
At the hospital, they'd said that she didn't suffer as she passed away, that although her death had been sudden, it was quick. Easy, one of the nurses said. That was too devoid of feeling.
She wiped the end of her eye with the back of her hand and composed herself, taking a step back. Scanning the room, she found Irina and Sloane chatting with her parents, along with Catherina and Vera, giving their condolences it seemed. She could catch her mother holding her friends' hands, receiving the kind gestures, and sharing words of gratefulness. It'd been the only time the two models had separated from her side ever since they arrived in Lyon.
Then she found her sister outside, smoking in the garden and slightly swaying in the old wooden swing that once belonged to them. Salma sighed, stole a quick glance at her parents and friends who were still conversing, and gathered the courage to approach Eloise.
This one looked up when she stood in front of her, their eyes met and no words were exchanged at first. With a hand gesture, Salma motioned at the empty space by her side, and her sister nodded confirming she could join her if she wanted. It rattled a little when she sat down and the swinging came to a halt. Silence lingered, she gnawed at her lip, gaze pinned to the ground, not knowing what to say.
"Your friends look nice," Eloise spoke first, blowing smoke from her nose. Salma looked at her, but she didn't return the attention. "The blonde one hugged me when she gave me her condolences on my loss."
A small smile threatened to spread across her lips. Of course Irina would do that. "She has no concept of personal space, yeah. But she's a great girl."
Eloise nodded. "I think grandma would've liked them. They seem to care about you. I mean, they're here." They did, they really did. She hadn't asked either of them to go there, it wasn't their responsibility, but there they were and she was grateful for that. "The guy from the other day, your boyfriend? He met her, I thought you'd bring him too."
Oh. That was a good question. She scoffed, gazing at the sky for a second. "Not my boyfriend, actually." Very far away from being her boyfriend at the moment. Her sister raised both eyebrows but didn't try to dig deeper. They weren't that close. "I wanted to apologise to you," She fiddled with her hands on her lap, picking at the cuticles especially when Eloise fixed her eyes on hers, frowning a bit. "That time, at the hospital, what you told me...you were right. I should have been more present. But I did care a lot about her, grandma, that's the thing you got wrong."
"She only wanted to keep being part of your life. Same with Maman and Papa, but you isolated yourself from them. It felt like abandonment. We're talking about years of it, Salma. Years."
Eloise always sounded serious, she noted. Salma bit the inside of her cheek, arranging her thoughts into a proper answer. An honest one too. "It's because I'm selfish," She admitted. "I didn't want to see grandma getting worse, I don't think I could've taken it, and the changes that brought for Maman. It ruined my idealised version of this family, I didn't want to remember her with sadness." Then she pursed her lips. "I'm also not a good person, the way I live my life and the woman I've become, I don't believe they, grandma in particular, would've been proud of me. Not career-wise, that's not what I mean. Personally, you know?" Except, Eloise didn't know. She dug the tip of her shoe on the grass. "What I want to say is...you weren't wrong, it'd be stupid if I tried to defend myself. And I understand why you hate me. I can't blame you."
