Trying To Endure

Chapter Thirty-Three

SONG: Halsey - I Walk The Line

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Derek Matthews

The front yard is mottled with flowers, stems sagging at the intensity of the belabouring rain, the sound drowning out the squeals of little hummingbirds sheltering in birdhouses, built on the thin branches of salix integras. The motorcycle glides over the concrete pathway, petals of star magnolias squashed and faded.

April climbs off, yanking off the helmet, her hair speedily dampening into defined curls.

Light creaks open, invading the porch. Dr Levesque indignantly crosses her arms. "Had fun, children?"

"Very much," murmurs her daughter.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're doing dishes and the chores for two weeks," she decided.

Is she grounded? How can we come over to her house tomorrow?

I removed the helmet. "Dr Levesque—"

"I was expecting April to be back at six, and here you are, in the dead of night." She examines how droused I am. "Come inside and warm up."

Globules droop from the tips of my ebony hair, leaping to the lashes and smearing my eyes. I easily suppress the tremors as the drenched materials adhere to my skin. "Thank you, but I should head home."

She shakes her head. "You, young man, are still my patient. Get inside." She surveys the rain, the clouds. "This will stop soon."

Inside her house, a stunning aroma of incense sticks wisps the atmosphere, waving, coiling and prancing as transparent smoke. April unbuttons the trench coat, thanking me. Dr Levesque spreads it out on a radiator, the highest warmth. I quake as a final gush of wind hums, the door thudding close, the choir of clapping thunder getting distant.

A fragile, feminine voice strictly shouts in a foreign language, and a small woman — dark-brown skinned, in a snugly, short-sleeve shirt and floor-length skirt, mehndi beautifying her wrinkled arms just like Dr Levesque and April — steps out of the parlour. She notices me and is motionless for a second. Then, she looks at April and scolds something on their tongue.

April flattens a cold palm to her forehead, exasperated. "No. Aachchie, it wasn't that!"

"No, no," Dr Levesque says. "She has a point. No offence, Derek."

I blink, confused. "None taken?"

The dark-brown-skinned woman, her grey hair in an elegant braid, sizes me up and down. "You're a pretty boy," she says. "But no. No. Touch her—" She flips her sandal to her grasp as swiftly as a trained ninja "—this happens. Yes?"

Ah. She scolded April for being with a boy late at night. Understandable. If I had a daughter, I would do the same. Something tells me her grandmother is not one to mess with me. While I almost smiled in amusement at her protectiveness, I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Dr Levesque shouts for Ethan. "You can change clothes, Derek."

"That isn't necessary—"

"Nonsense. It'll be uncomfortable. Would you like some tea?"

Thuds descending the stairs, and Ethan frowns at me. "Why are you here?"

"Hello to you, too."

"Give him a pair of clothes," Dr Levesque tells her son.