I'm Still Here (Je Suis Là) (17 page)

I
ignored everything going on around me and just concentrated on her. My movements were automatic, my mind was focused exclusively on two things: getting myself free from Steve's iron grip, and watching her, watching Elsa.

If she stops breathing, I think I'll stop with her.

Now that I've stopped reasoning with them, all you can hear are grunts, breathing, and murmurs. Some tears as well. Several of these may be coming from me. Who cares. But all of these sounds are regulated by the slow, terribly slow, beeping of the monitor.

The luminous curve hypnotizes me. My eyes move from it to Elsa, conscious that for the first time I am hearing her breathe naturally. She seems slowed down, fragile. With all the people surrounding me, watching me, I don't dare say a word. There are so many things I want to say to her. And at the same time, they could all be reduced down into a few words. I relax my shoulders; Steve's grip gradually loosens.

“You've got to let her go.”

My head drops forward and my eyes fill with tears. My mouth endlessly repeats Elsa's name, so quietly you can hardly hear it, then I find my voice again with a last hope.

“Elsa, show them!”

I feel everyone's gaze turn to me.

The beep continues in time with her slowing pulse. My fists are so firmly clenched that my hands are completely white, and I begin a silent countdown. Ten… Nine… Elsa, wake up… Eight… Seven… Come on, I know you can hear me… Six… You reacted when I… Five… Four…

“What the…?”

The young woman's voice wakes me from my reverie. She must be Elsa's sister. Even though they look hardly anything like each other, there is something similar about them.

“It looks as though her heartbeat is picking up…”

I raise my head. She's right: the numbers on the screen are higher than they were the last time I looked. I turn my head to the doctors on my left. There's one who I recognize, the one who explained about all of Elsa's gadgets. They both look puzzled, but I think I can see a glimmer of hope in the eyes of the younger one. His superior shakes his head and whispers something in his ear. Then the junior doctor turns to the family.

“Random.”

That's all he says. I never want to hear that word again for the rest of my life.

Once. Just once.

It takes all the strength I have left in the active part of my brain.

I don't hear anything else. There's only one thing I want.

Just once.

I want to turn my head and open my eyes.

My heart stops beating precisely as hers accelerates. I plunge into that stare, into those eyes I've only seen once. My lips find themselves engaged in a communal intake of breath with everyone else in the room. Everything is suspended.

I know that the hands on my watch continue to move, but the total motionlessness of everyone around me, including Steve, seems to stop time. I feel privileged; I am the only one who moves toward her.

I close my eyes. There was too much light. I open them again slowly and, at that moment, he is in front of me. I can't tell whether I preferred him as a rainbow or not, because my brain hasn't managed to distinguish all the visible colors yet. I just know that I've managed it, and his words echo my thoughts.

“You're here.”

I'm here.

Writing my English acknowledgments was a dream… and now it's happening! Thanks to all these people who were here for me and for my book:

To my mom, Annie, and my best friend, Hélène, who believed in me since the beginning.

To the wonderful team at Hodder and Grand Central, who successfully took care of this story.

To a certain wizard at Hogwarts and his creator in the UK, who taught me English because of the dreadful six months' delay of the French translation. Without them, I would never have been able to write these words without the use of a dictionary!

And, curiously enough, to a platform C at some train station near the sea…

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Éditions Jean-Claude Lattès

Translation copyright © 2016 by Lucy Foster

Cover illustration by Hanna Barczyk

Cover copyright © 2016 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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First ebook edition: August 2016

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ISBN 978-1-4555-3761-7

E3-20160607-JV-NF