We absolutely did not get any packing done, or cleaning for that matter. We kissed in bed until we fell asleep with our clothes on. My cardigan was eating me alive when I woke up. Usually, I don't want to wake Charles, but I was dying. I sat up and struggled to get it off, accidentally elbowing Charles in the forehead as I tried to get it off my arms. I throw it onto the floor and consider just throwing myself in the canal outside to cool off.
Cuddling all night in the summer is just not as great as I thought it was.
We wake up a little while still laying in bed, and then we get up to pack. I took a shower, because I was feeling disgusting with all that sweat on me. Charles showered after me while I got ready, but I was feeling terribly tired. Maybe I did have too much wine the night before and now I'm just paying the price. My body was protesting against everything I did, when I got ready, when I packed, when I went out to clean up the last things in the kitchen.
"Ça va?" You okay? Pierre asks when he walks into the kitchen and sees me wiping down the counter with a pained expression on my face, because I was in pain, because that's how uncomfortable my body was.
"J'ai bu trop de vin," I had too much wine, I tell him. He laughs as he walks up to me, pushing me away as he grabs the dishcloth from me and starts to wipe the rest of the counter.
"Allez vous allonger, Charles et moi pouvons nettoyer," Go lay down, Charles and I can clean up, he says as he still snickers. He's laughing about my pain, that little fucker, but at least he's helping me out. So I just put a hand on his arm as I pass as a way to tell him thanks, and then I walk right back into the bedroom and lay down. I just feel my body wanting to die right then and there. I might be exaggerating, but my whole body was aching.
We packed everything onto a boat and then we struggled out of the apartment. We gave the keys back to the owners and then we packed our bags into the car. Pierre offered me to sit in the front with Charles, but I told him I wanted to be in the back where I could sleep and where their talking wouldn't be as loud. Pierre thought I was messing with him, turning down the one time he's willing to let me sit in the front, but I just wanted to put my head against the window and sleep the entire 6 hour drive back to Monaco.
Evie and I sit in the back, she looks a bit hungover so I guess it actually is the wine. We have our legs on the seat over at each other's sides and we start reading to pretend like we don't want to die. We order Charles to play our music and then we read until we stop for drinks and food. I barely get anything down, but I buy a lot of drinks to have in the car. I also buy some painkillers so I won't feel like I'm in hell all the way home.
When we've eaten and I've gotten some drinks down along with the painkiller, I lay with my pillow against the window and I listen to the music along with the voices of Charles and Pierre talking to each other. They've gone over to talk about the race so I don't find it that interesting, but I can hear their voices slowly fade away as I fall asleep.
I wake up a few hours later, and I feel even worse. I feel every single movement the car makes all through my body, especially in my stomach. I barely want to open my eyes because I don't want to handle the bright light from the sun shining outside. My body breaks out into cold sweat and as I continue to wake up, I begin shaking. Is it cold? I guess they have the AC on because it's hot outside and I guess they're hot.
Finally, I force my eyes open and I feel the uncomfortable feeling in my body get stronger. Charles makes a turn and oh, my stomach is turning in my body. I'm drowning in cold sweat and I suddenly find it harder to breathe. I turn my head to see Evie on the other side of the car. She turns her head to me with a smile that quickly vanishes.
"Are you okay?" She asks. I try to nod, but I realize just how not okay I am. I wince and close my eyes and I try to gather myself, but it's getting worse and worse.
"Charles," I say to get his attention. He looks up at me through the rearview mirror. He opens his mouth to say something, but then turns his head quickly to look at me before he has to focus on the road again. Do I really look that bad? "J'ai besoin que tu arrêtes," I need you to stop, I tell him.
He looks around and tries to find somewhere to stop the car. Pierre turns around in his seat and Evie sits up straight. I hear Evie and Pierre both speaking but I'm too focused on breathing and it just feels like my whole head is in a bubble.
I feel Charles slowing down the car until it's stopped on the side of the road. I unbuckle my seatbelt and I almost fall out of the car when I open the door. I get to the side of the road and I lean over the guardrail and I start to vomit immediately. It's not that much because I've only eaten a little bit, but when it's out, I just hang there over the railing and I try to breathe. I feel the tears that have trailed down my cheeks and I just feel horrible.
Someone grabs my hair and pulls it back over my shoulders, holding it in place. I glance up and see Evie. She pats my back while I'm still breathing heavily. It just got too hot in the car and then I had to throw up. I hear car doors and then Charles talking, but the traffic behind is too loud so I can't really hear what he's saying.
When I'm sure I won't throw up anymore, I turn around and sit down with my back against the railing, my body still shaking, but I'm not cold-sweating as badly anymore, even though my whole body is still damp from sweat. I feel disgusting. That shower I had this morning was just for nothing now. Charles squats down next to me and I don't even want him to see me like this. He's seen me worse, but it was different then.
He helps me move some hair out of my face but I just refuse to look at him. He hands me a water bottle and I take it from him. The sun shining down on us is killing me, but it's better than the car. I need the fresh air.
"Tu es encore pâle," You're still pale, he murmurs in worry, "Ce n'est pas le vin, tu es tombé malade..." It's not the wine, you've gotten sick.
I shake my head, because I can't be sick right now. It's Charles' homerace, I need to be there and support him. I need to get back to practicing with Èlliott. I have too much to do to be sick. After this week Charles is going back to racing and I won't have time to see him all the time, so I simply cannot afford to get sick right now. I'm just car sick or something. Maybe I ate something weird last night? Either way, I'm not sick. So I shake my head and I try to stand up but I have to sit back again because I feel like I'm going to pass out.
"You should stay away, Charles, you have to race this weekend so you better not get sick," Evie says. She's sitting on the railing next to me, still patting the back of my head and brushing my hair with her fingers. But Charles doesn't move, he completely ignores her, until she nudges him. "I can call Max to come get us, we're so close to Monaco."
"No," Charles says immediately, "I'm not leaving you here until he gets here, he can get sick as much as I can!"
Evie cocks her head to the side, like she seriously didn't think of that. Then she shakes her head and just straight up pushes Charles to get him away. I never thought I'd want him to be pushed away, but right now it's literally all I want.
"It's not his homerace," she shakes her head, "Or he'll send someone else to get us."
"What about Arthur?" Pierre asks, then he throws something to Charles who catches it and then he hands it to me. It's gum. Thank-fucking-god. I put one in my mouth and feel the mint flavor spread in my mouth while Evie and Charles argue about if they should leave us or not.
"I can't just leave her on the side of the road," Charles argues.
"I'm here, you're not abandoning her," She argues back, "Whoever we call will be here within twenty minutes, she needs fresh air anyway."
"But-"
"Shut up," Evie says and I see her putting her phone to her ear. She waits a little while and then starts speaking in Dutch. Charles sighs and shakes his head before looking at me. Even though Evie pushed him away, he gets back up next to me.
"Ti senti un po' meglio?" Do you feel a little better? he asks and I nod and force a little smile. "Stai bruciando," You're burning up, he states, putting a hand to my forehead.
He has no reason to speak in Italian to me right now, but somehow it makes me feel like we're talking alone. When no one understands, it feels like we might as well be behind closed doors.
"Max is sending Brad to get us, he's already on his way," Evie says when she hangs up. She walks over to us and slaps Charles' forehead with the back of her hand, "So get out of here before you get sick."
Brad is Max's performance coach, I've met him, he's had to babysit us once when our designated babysitter was busy with something. He's a funny guy, but I doubt this is within his job description. Poor guy. I feel bad for inconveniencing anyone to come get us, but I'd hate myself if Charles got sick and missed his homerace. He loves Monaco, he loves racing there.
Charles doesn't look that happy about it, but he stands up and he walks over to the door that's still open after I literally fell through it. He gets my pillow out along with my drink, my book and my phone. He walks over and hands them to me. I take them and I pout a little because I can't kiss him goodbye, even though I'll be home in just forty minutes. I can't kiss him then either.
Evie and I moved over the railing so we wouldn't be on the road, and we sit down on the grass field that's there. Evie helps me freshen up just a little bit, she hands me a hair tie and I put my hair up. She makes me finish the whole water bottle and she applies sunscreen on me because we're sitting right in the sun with no sign of a shadow anywhere. While we wait, I just sit there with my knees to my stomach and my forehead resting on my knees. I miss my bed and I miss showering.
Brad finally shows up and he gets out of the car to help me into the backseat. He laughs as he says how unlucky I am to get sick, but then again, at least we were close to home and not halfway through the drive. So it's some blessing in disguise.
I put my head against the pillow that I put against the window again and I listen to Brad asking about Venice and what we did. He says it must've been romantic, but then he corrects himself and says it must've been romantic for Pierre and Evie. He looks at me in the backseat.
"It must've gotten boring watching those lovebirds all the time," He chuckles. I force a chuckle in response and I nod once. I don't have the energy to actually reply properly, but then he asks "What did you and Charles do when they were on dates?"
I shrug and shake my head, "Well, I read a lot." My voice is hoarse and tired. He nods and after that he doesn't ask me anything else. I think he realized I'm too tired to speak, so he just kept talking to Evie. I was almost asleep when we got home, but as soon as I felt him do that final turn into the driveway of the house, I woke up. I was so ready to just go up to my room and fall asleep.
Both Evie and Brad help me to the door, carrying my stuff and making sure I don't collapse and all that. Brad knocks before opening the door and walks us through it.
"Hello! We got a very sick, poor girl here!" He shouts into the house. We hear some shuffling and then Pascale quickly walks from the kitchen up to us. Shortly after, Charles and Arthur peek their heads from the kitchen. She hands Arthur my things and tells him to bring them to my room.
"Vuoi che io venga?" You want me to come? Charles asks in Italian, because his mother would definitely yell at him to stay away if she knew what he said. But so am I.
"No," I say sternly, because I still don't want him to get sick.
Pascale thanks Brad and Evie and I do too and then I tell them goodbye. Pascale helps me through the house and over to my room where Arthur is already closing the curtains to make my room as dark as possible. She sets me down on the bed and shoos Arthur out of the room. She gets comfortable clothes out and hands them to me, helping me out of the clothes I'm wearing and into the new ones. I probably could have changed myself, but everything in my body is signaling red flags, so I don't feel like arguing with her about it.
"Oh chérie, tu brûles," Oh darling, you're burning, she says as she puts a hand on my forehead. "Je vais vérifier ta température," I'll check your temperature, she says as she tucks me into bed. I just nod and watch her leave the room.
She comes back after a while with a bunch of stuff. She puts a thermometer in my mouth before she puts the bowl of water and ice cubes next to the bed and she dips a towel in it and starts dabbing it on my face. I've only ever seen people do this in movies, but it feels so nice with the cold on my face. She grabs my wrists and dabs them with cold water too, then she tells me to lift my head so she can dab it on my neck.
My thermometer beeps and she takes it out and clicks her tongue and shakes her head. She turns it to me and it shows 40.2 degrees. I grunt and turn to my side, I just want to sleep it off. Pascale stays on the side of the bed, patting my temple with the cold towel for a while, saying that we need to get my temperature down and that she has to call my parents. I want to tell her it's not necessary because it's a normal fever, but I simply don't have the energy.
"Dites à Lorenzo d'avoir des enfants... Je pense que vous seriez une si grande grand-mère," Tell Lorenzo to have children... I think you would be such a great grandmother, I murmur as my room begins to feel like it's spinning.
"J'aimerais penser que je ne suis pas assez vieux pour être grand-mère," I'd like to think I'm not old enough to be a grandma, she laughs. She places the cold towel over my eyes and then she pats down my hair before standing up from the bed. "Tu devrais dormir, je viendrai vérifier plus tard," You should sleep, I'll come check on you later, she says and I just nod. I hear her steps and then I hear the door opening and closing. As soon as the room gets quiet, I begin to fall asleep.
I think I only get to sleep an hour before I hear the door opening. I look over and I see Charles bringing something into the room. He is not supposed to be here, I bet the room is filled with germs by now. Pascale probably doesn't know he's in here, because she would've told him to leave me alone and let me rest.
He walks in and he puts a water bottle on my nightstand. I can see that the water is cold by the water drops forming and running down the outside of the bottle. I look up at him and he notices that I'm awake, so he sits down next to me on the bed and he puts a hand on my forehead.
"Perché la tua temperatura non scende?" Why isn't your temperature going down? he mumbles, as if the question isn't really for me. I push his hand away from me.
"Perché è passata solo un'ora," Because it's only been an hour, I tell him. He sighs and grabs the towel and dips it into the water. He puts it to my forehead and I thank god that the water is still cold. He keeps dabbing it all over my forehead until I grab his wrist and move it away from him. "Non dovresti essere qui," You shouldn't be in here.
"Non mi interessa se mi ammalo," I don't care if I get sick, he shakes his head.
"Dovresti," You should, "Starò bene, ora esci di qui così posso stare meglio prima della tua gara," I'll be fine, now get out of here so I can get better before your race, I say.
I watch him almost frown, but he grabs my hand and kisses it before standing up. He walks towards the door, but before he opens it he turns back to me.
"Dimmi se hai bisogno di me," Tell me if you need me, he says.
"Lo farò," I will.
It feels like I barely had the time to sleep before the door opens again. I groan, because I feel horrible. I'm warm and I'm uncomfortable and everything still feels like it's spinning. The towel is still over my eyes and it's gotten hot and now feels disgusting. So I bring my arm up to remove it from my eyes and I just throw it into the bowl of cold water. I can still hear a few of the ice cubes floating around in there as it hits the edges of the bowl.
When I look over towards the door that has now closed again, I can see the silhouette of a man walking over. I just assume it's Charles or Arthur coming in, so I turn back around and close my eyes, getting ready to tell them to leave me alone, but I hear a chuckle that doesn't sound like either Charles or Arthur.
"Me tournes-tu le dos?" You're turning your back on me? There's a low, almost hoarse but still soft voice coming from behind me. It makes me open my eyes and I wait for him to say anything, or any indication at all that there's someone there. I hear just light shuffling, and then I feel the bed dip behind me. My heart stops and I don't even breathe for a moment as I just try to reality check myself.
When I finally get the courage, I turn towards the voice and I see the brown eyes. My brown eyes — but they're not on my face. There's a mess of short brown hair. There's a smile with the two front teeth being significantly longer than the rest of them. There's a light stubble on his chin and there's crinkles by his eyes when he smiles.
I go from laying to sitting so fast and I just glare. I don't know what to say or do. I try to reality check because it's impossible for him to be sitting here right now. But I keep staring at my brother, and he looks to be breathing. He has a bit of a tan, he's not as pale as I saw him in that hospital bed. He's smiling and he's blinking and doing everything he would do when he was a living, breathing person. My mouth opens and closes over and over, because I have so much to say but I don't know where to start. So I just stare.
"Charles ne devrait-il pas s'occuper de vous?" Shouldn't Charles take care of you? he asks, motioning at the door he just walked through. I swallow hard before I stiffly shake my head, "Pourquoi pas?" Why not?
"Il- Je lui ai dit... je ne le laisse pas," He- I told him... I don't let him, I struggle out some words without taking my eyes off of him. I'm scared that if I close my eyes, I'll just open them and he'll be gone again.
Jules laughs, tilting his head back a little as he does it. I'm looking in awe and I listen with my heart filling up with happiness as I hear his laugh so clearly. I see it and I hear it right in front of me. He shakes his head and he looks down at me with raised eyebrows.
"Tu as toujours été têtu," You were always stubborn, he laughs, "Donnez une pause au gars, il est assez nerveux autour de vous," Give the guy a break, he's quite nervous around you.
My brain tries to find a logical explanation for this. Hallucination, lucid dream, maybe the fever killed me and he's here to help me to the other side? I'm too scared to ask him. I know he's gone and he's not really here, but it still feels real, and I don't want him to laugh at me. I don't want to question it, because what if he leaves?
"Charles roule pour Ferrari," Charles drives for Ferrari, I tell him the first thing I want to tell him before he leaves. Charles made it to Ferrari and is living both of their dreams. If this is how I can let Jules know then I need to take the moment to do it.
"Je sais, c'est un super pilote," I know, he's a great driver.
"Tu lui as appris comment faire," You taught him how to do it, I say and I watch Jules do his half-smile at me. He moves closer to me on the bed and I feel every move, making me question my own sanity. "Arthur pourrait rejoindre la Ferrari Driver Academy l'année prochaine, ils en parlent," Arthur could join Ferrari Driver Academy next year, they're talking about it, I tell him. They're both walking in his footsteps and they're dream is to accomplish what Jules wanted but never got the chance to. I want to make sure Jules knows that they're trying.
"Je sais, que je suis si heureux pour eux deux," I know, I'm so happy for both of them, he says, smiling. I don't know what I was expecting, for him to jump up and down? For him to act surprised and clap his hands? I just thought he'd be a bit more excited. I thought I could see the way he's excited and proud so I could confidently tell them that he's looking down proud. I'm worried he's here for some other reason. Wouldn't he be happy if he wasn't here for a sad reason.
"Que faites-vous ici?" What are you doing here? I force myself to ask. I read somewhere that spirits won't leave if they have unfinished business and now I'm worrying that he has some sad unfinished business with me, since he's here but doesn't seem his normal happy self.
"Ma petite soeur est malade," My little sister is sick, he states, "Et elle ne laissera pas son petit ami prendre soin d'elle," And she won't let her boyfriend take care of her, he continues and I freeze. "Parce qu'elle s'inquiète de ce que je vais penser... alors j'ai l'impression que j'ai besoin d'éclaircir certaines choses," Because she's worried about what I'm going to think...so I feel like I need to clear some things up.
What? Excuse me... what? I don't have a boyfriend. Charles and I are... whatever we are, but we are not boyfriend and girlfriend. Jules can't know that. Only Evie and Pierre know about that. So I'm back to just glaring at him, my mouth open but no words coming out of it.
The last part makes me hurt. Does he blame himself? It sounds like it. I've been thinking about him a lot lately. I always think about him a lot, but more than my usual 'a lot' and sure, I've been worrying a little bit if he would approve of what I do in my life. Dating his godson is kind of a big thing and I've just been a little worried that if he were here, he would maybe find it weird. Now that I'm sitting here, I realize that I find it hard to even admit to him that I have these feelings for Charles.
His smile is gone from his face and he dips his head down to meet my eyes that are looking at the pillow. He puts a hand under my chin to lift it, and I swear I can feel it. I can feel his hand on my chin and it makes me breathless. I don't know how I can feel something that's not real so vividly, but I do. He looks at me with a frown and I hate to see him frown.
"Cece, tu me dis tout," You tell me everything, he says. I used to tell him everything. Every single little thing about my life. And he used to listen so closely, like every word I said mattered more than anything to him. I loved it so much, I always felt listened to when I was with him. "J'écoute toujours, même quand tu ne parles pas." I always listen, even when you're not talking.
I don't know what to say. I look at him in somewhat disbelief. I don't know how he can know everything. He hasn't been here. I shake my head, still confused.
"T'es toujours dans ton monde avec toutes ces pensées éparses qui t'inquiètent trop," You're still in your world with all these scattered thoughts that worry you too much, he says. I do live a lot more in my head nowadays. I never did as a kid. Everything I thought and felt I could verbalize to someone, but now I worry too much about feeling stupid if I tell the wrong thing to the wrong person. Everything goes on in my head. I have my bubble, the safe space of my own little bubble.
"Je ne t'ai plus à qui parler," I don't have you to talk to anymore, I say, but my voice is so much weaker and it's merely a whisper.
"Tu peux toujours me parler, je suis toujours là," You can always talk to me, I'm always here, he whispers, bringing his voice down to the same level as mine.
I have to look down at my hands in my lap, because I feel my eyes welling up. My bottom lip starts to tremble and I have a knot in my throat. Because I can't talk to him, he can't answer me. He's lying, or he's just trying to comfort me. But he's not even real, so I can't be mad at him for it either. It just hurts that it feels so real, and he has to remind me that he isn't here. I don't have him to talk to whenever I want.
"Mais tu n'es pas," But you're not, I say, just before I can't stop the first sob. I didn't want this to happen. If he's going to be here, I should be telling him about all the good things. I should be catching him up to speed, not cry. I've been crying about him so much, why can't I just get some happiness from this?
"Oui, je le suis, Cece. Je suis toujours avec toi. Toujours." Yes, I am, Cece. I'm always with you. Always. He says and I feel him pulling me closer to him. I feel him hugging me tighter and I can even smell him. I feel his hand going up and down my arm. I don't know how I can feel him, but I'm just grateful that I do feel him.
He hushes me as he lays down on the bed, putting my head on his shoulder where he lets me cry as he pats my head. I know it's not real, but it feels real enough to comfort me. I just miss him so much. I wish I could still have him here with me everyday so I could talk to him, ask him stuff, and make him proud. All I want is to make him proud, but there's no way to know if I am.
"Je ne supporte pas de te voir pleurer, Cece, qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" I can't stand to see you cry, Cece, what's wrong? He asks, using his thumb to wipe under my eyes. I don't even know how he can ask me that, because isn't it obvious why I'm crying? Though, he never lost anyone so close to him. He doesn't know what it's like to live your life for another person. Doing the things they missed out on and always wondering if they would be proud and happy with the choices you make. I don't live my life right now, I'm living ours. I let him live through me. All I do feels like it has to be approved by him.
Jules would've hated it. He would tell me to stop living for him when all I should be doing is living for me. He'd tell me I can't wear all the burden of his death on my shoulders. I know what he would say, I just don't know how to adjust to it.
"Je veux qu'il s'occupe de moi," I want him to take care of me, I say with a shirt sniffle as I try to stop crying.
"Il veut s'occuper de toi," He wants to take care of you, he replies, "Pourquoi ne le laisses-tu pas faire, Céline?" So why won't you let him, Céline? he asks and it makes me cringe. I've always hated when he calls me my full name because it meant he was being serious with me, which I also hated.
"Serais-tu d'accord avec ça?" Would you be okay with that? I ask. I feel him sit us both up and he makes me turn to him. He holds my face and uses his thumbs to dry under my eyes. He looks at me strictly, without his smile on his face.
"Considérant que je connais exactement le genre de gars qu'il est, je sais qu'il n'y a personne de mieux pour toi. Je ne voudrais personne d'autre pour toi plus que lui," Considering I know exactly the kind of guy he is, I know there's no one better for you. I wouldn't want anyone else for you more than him, he says. There's this buzzing feeling in my body again and my lips are forced into a smile. He starts to smile too and somehow, something's lifted. It gets just a little easier to breathe.
"Je ne veux rendre les choses inconfortables pour personne," I don't want to make things uncomfortable for anyone, I admit, shaking my head until he lets go of my face.
"Il ne faut pas trop s'inquiéter pour les autres. Je veux te voir te rendre heureux, pas tout le monde," You shouldn't worry too much about other people. I want to see you make yourself happy, not everyone else. He says with a smile. His smile makes it so hard not to smile equally as wide. I take the chance to hug him, while I still feel like it's real. "Je suis toujours ton fan numéro un," I'm still your number one fan.
We lay back again and I got to tell him everything. I get to tell him about my dancing and he's excited and proud. I tell him about Evie and even some of the bad moments of Charles and Arthur. Like when Arthur dated Valerie, just to vent. I tell him as much as I can while I can. Everything he's missed and I listen to him laugh about it, give his thoughts about it and he just listens when he notices I don't want opinions other than my own. I talk myself tired, but I don't want to fall asleep, because a part of me knows that when I wake up, he'll be gone. I fight the sleepiness, talking and talking and talking, everything to not make him leave me again.
"Tu devrais dormir, Cece, je dois y aller," You should sleep, Cece, I have to go, he whispers. I look up at him and I shake my head. He can't leave, I'm not sleeping yet. "C'est bon. Charles s'occupera de vous maintenant," It's okay. Charles will take care of you now, he says softly as he sits up from the bed, putting his hand on my cheek while I feel myself panic, because he's leaving.
"Non, non, Jules-" I try, but he just starts shushing as he shakes his head, standing up from the bed. He kisses my forehead and starts to back away. I try to reach out for him to stop him but I physically can't move. I'm watching him slip away all over again. I get this frantic panic, I can't move and I can't make a single noise when I feel like I want to scream.
"Rappelle-toi ce que Charles t'a dit, parce qu'il avait raison," Remember what Charles said, because he was right, he starts just as he reaches the door. He has a hand on the handle and I can't do anything but look as he starts to open it. "Je te vois encore, je sais à quel point tu es devenue belle et intelligente. Je suis si fier, et je suis toujours ton plus grand fan," I still see you, I know how beautiful and smart you have become. I'm so proud, and I'm still your biggest fan, he says before he closes the door. I want to scream when he closes it, but I can't. I'm stuck.
I jolt awake by a hand grabbing onto my arm, and the first thing I can think about is that I have no air in my lungs. I sit up and I just focus on breathing. That's when I feel the sweat running down my back and then the hand on my arm. I look down at the hand and then up at the owner of the hand — Arthur. The next thing I do is look towards the door. The door Jules just walked through. I look next to me on the bed and the bed is still perfectly made on my side. There's not a single sign of him being here. I keep looking around for anything, just whatever, and then I stop and think.
Of course there's no sign — it was never real. I knew that even when I was in it.
"Wow, C, as-tu fait un cauchemar?" Did you have a nightmare? he asks, making me look back at him. I feel nothing but disappointment in my whole body. Even though I knew it wasn't real, a part of me still held onto that hope that the impossible still was true. I hate myself for it. I hate that I even had the hope for a tenth of a second.
How did it feel so real? I could've sworn I felt him as much as I feel Arthur holding onto my arm. I look at the door and I still remember how I watched him leave, just the way he's already left me once before. But I never got the chance to say goodbye that time. I didn't say it this time either. I missed out on another chance of saying goodbye to someone I will never see again.
How is this disappointing me so much? I knew it wasn't real so why do I allow myself to feel like this? Why do I still feel like crying? I look back at Arthur, who just looks worried. He puts a hand on my forehead but I just grab it and pull it down before I wrap my arms around him, clinging to him tightly. As tight as I can. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around my body and I'm reminded of what real touch feels like. Not touch that my brain has made up. Actual human touch. I release a sigh of relief and Arthur begins moving his hand up and down my back.
"Je suis désolé si cela te rend malade," I'm sorry if this makes you sick, I say.
"Ça en vaut la peine," It's worth it, he says, "Je t'ai apporté le dîner, maman dit que tu dois manger," I brought you dinner, Mum says you have to eat, he says. I let him go and look at the bedside table where there's a bowl of tomato soup. I'm not hungry at all, but I know that if I don't eat at least some, Pascale will come in here and hand feed me the food.
"Je me sens dégoûtant," I feel disgusting, I say as I grab the bowl and the spoon, stirring around in it a little bit.
"Tu as l'air assez dégoûtant," You look pretty disgusting, he says, making me stop and look up at him. Yeah, so much for a sweet moment. He's too comfortable with me. If he only knew he's making up brother in law points right now. "D'une jolie façon," In a pretty way, he adds before I manage to freak myself out with my own thoughts.
"Je parie que tu charmes beaucoup de filles," I bet you charm a lot of girls, I say with a clear tone of sarcasm. He just laughs and grabs that damn towel, dipping it in the water before dabbing it all over my face. I honestly don't know if it's doing what it's supposed to do, but it definitely feels good.
Arthur ends up climbing into bed next to me and makes me eat the whole bowl of soup even though I feel nauseous after half of it. He makes me drink almost a whole bottle of water and then he gives me some anti-inflammatory pills and lies with me until I just end up falling asleep again. It's only Tuesday, but my plan is to sleep the sickness away before Friday so I can spend as much time at the paddock as I can. I don't want to miss it.
The next time I'm woken up it's by Pascale who wants to check my temperature and take some dishes out of my room before going to bed. It's just gone down slightly and it's clearly worrying her. I think if I told her about my dream she'd have a heart attack and drive me to the hospital, so I stayed silent. She exchanges the ice water and the towel and she gives me some more water to drink and then she goes to bed.
I've been sleeping all day, so I force myself to stay awake for a while so I might be able to sleep throughout the whole night. I turn my TV on and I go on YouTube. I search for the video and I hesitate for a second before I put it on. There's a vlog that Jules filmed, it's on YouTube, and I've refused to watch it for years. It's before his last Monza race and dad is in it, because he was there the whole weekend, while Arthur, Charles and I were taken there on the day of the race by Hervé.
I watch him in his garage, I see him film his teammate, Max. I see Lewis and Daniel in the background as they sit for driver briefings. He films Fernando sending the camera a kiss. He drove for Ferrari then. Jules shows his little drawings he had of the track that he used to take notes and study the track with. I still have them somewhere.
I go on to watch an interview that he did with Will Buxton. I love it, he always sounded so impressed with Jules and he was so respectful towards him. Jules looked so nervous and his English wasn't ever that good. But the video brings me so much comfort. Seeing him look so shy but still talking, breathing, living.
"Je les regarde aussi parfois," I also watch them sometimes, I hear from over by the door. I pause the video and I see Charles by the door. He takes a few steps in, and I'm just so happy to see him. "Avant que tu me dises de partir... j'ai apporté ces," Before you tell me to leave... I brought these, he says and shows me two medical face masks. "Et si je tombe malade de toute façon... qu'il en soit ainsi," and if I get sick anyway... so be it.
I chuckle as he walks up to the bed. I want to tell him about it not mattering because he's still touching me and germs can spread through just human contact too, but then again. I want him here, and he clearly wants to be here so bad that he got us face masks just to be with me.
When I get the face mask, I put it on and adjust it, watching him do the same. When he laughs a little, his eyes crinkle and it looks like he's squinting. He climbs onto the bed, right where Jules was in my dream. He lies down in his place and he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me over to him so I can lay my head down on his shoulder. He presses play, and together we watch Jules in all these interviews.
He lies there with me, just until I fall asleep again.