Sky Cowboy (11 page)

“Hush now
, baby. It’s all forgotten.”  I look in Jeremy’s worried eyes and I want to take the concern away.  I snuggle into him.  My face hurts.  The more I snuggle into him, the more my face hurts. 
Why does my face hurt?
  My eyes spring open and there is no Jeremy.  I’ve been rubbing my face against the dirt.  My heart sinks as I realize it was all a dream.

It was all a dream
.  I feel the heaviness settle in my chest again as I look around.  It’s early morning, I guess it’s around five thirty.  A quick look at my mobile phone tells me the time - five forty one.  Stripping off a couple of layers, but leaving enough on to keep the chill out, I begin walking again.  After a couple of hours, I can’t withhold any longer and I have to drink some of the dirty dam water.  It’s disgusting, but it wets my throat which gives me some relief.  I need to get home before the heat of the day sets in again. 
Think, Ava, think goddammit. 

I look up and feel like crying.  I can see one of our hay sheds. 
Thank you god.
  I begin to walk quicker, knowing it’s only a matter of minutes before my home comes into sight. 

I burst through the front door and immediately head towards the shower.  No one is home – this is not unusual.  My mother will be at
her coffee shop and my father will be out making his rounds on the station.  Kennedy is more than likely back in Darwin because I can’t imagine her helping our parents out.

I scrub every single inch of my body.  Twice.  I also shampoo my hair twice and condition three times.  Slowly but surely, I start to feel clean again.  I hear my phone ringing so I quickly wrap a towel around my body and wind one around my hair like a turban.

My heart beats faster as I near my phone, which stopped ringing but has started again.  It has to be Jeremy.

My brows knit together as I look at the display. 
International
. 

“Hello?”

“Bonjour, is this Ava?”  A thick French accent replies.

“Yes?” So far I’ve said two words and both have come out sounding like questions.

“Ava, this is Marjette.  I’m not sure if you remember me.  I only met you once or twice…”

“Oh!
Marjette, of course I remember you.  How are you?  How is everyone?  How are Mr. and Mrs. Rousseau? Enzo and Mathilde?”  I fire my questions off excitedly.  I’m so happy to hear from them.  I have kept in contact with the children by exchanging letters.  I sent my last one about a month ago, and I’m expecting one back any day now.

I hear
Marjette hiccough and sniffle.  “Marjette, is everything okay?”

“Ava, I’m terribly sorry to be have to be the one to tell you, but we thought you should know.  Enzo passed away.” She chokes back a sob and I drop the phone.

Enzo has passed away.  Enzo is dead. 
Oh god
.  I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.  How can this be?

I pick up the phone off the carpet and put it to my ear.

“Marjette, I’m so sorry.  What happened?”

“He was cha
sing after a ball.  He ran out into the road without looking and a small truck hit him.  He passed instantly.  He should have known better, he was twelve after all, but he was just playing.”  Marjette explains.  “We obviously don’t expect that you can come to the funeral, but we thought you ought to know.”

“Of course.  Thank you for calling me.  When is the funeral?”

“This coming Wednesday.”

“I’ll be there.” I state. 
I hope I can get a flight.

We speak for a few more minutes before I end the call and immediately phone the airline.  It must be my lucky day because I can get a flight from Darwin to Sydney this afternoon, and Sydney to Paris leaving at midnight.  I race around packing a bag and making sure I’ve got my passport handy.  As I’m racing down the stairs, my father walks in the door.  When I see him, I burst into tears.

“Ava, darlin’, what’s the matter?  Come here.”  I fall into his outstretched arms and sob.

“Enzo d-died,” I manage.  “I-I’m going to P-Paris for the funeral.”

“Good idea, sweetheart. Come on, I’ll drive you to the airport.”

On the way, I fill my dad in on everything that I know.  We arrive in record time and after kissing my dad goodbye, I check in.

I decide to quickly text my mum before I board.

I have to go to Paris. Will be back in a week.

Her reply is almost immediate

Ava, what’s going on? Why are you going back to Paris? Don’t run again, Ava!

How the fucking hell does she know I ran last time?  My mother is too intuitive for her own good.

Dad will explain everything to you. I have to go. Plane is about to board. Love you xo

I turn my phone off and board the plane.

Two days later

After arriving in France, I booked a motel and spent the next day sleeping off jet lag.  When I started to feel somewhat normal again, I dragged my ass to the nearest phone shop and brought a charger for my phone.  It was the only thing I’d forgotten to pack and when I turned my phone off after texting my mum, it wouldn’t restart again because the battery was too low.  When it was finally charged enough to let me start it up, I found I had thirty missed calls (ten from my parents, three from Edie, one from Jules, two from Jackson, two from an international number and twelve from Jeremy.  I also had a slew of text messages. 

Hey babe, we have to catch up soon x Edie

We need a girls night catch up – that scene at the hospital was intense! – Jules

Ava, your father just filled me. Stay safe please and pass our love and thoughts on to the family. Come home soon. Call when you can. Love mum.

Ava, answer your phone - Jeremy

Ava, please honey, just talk to me – Jeremy

Goddammit Ava, answer your damn phone or reply to me. I need to know you’re ok. You didn’t take a vehicle so call me back or text and let me know you’re home safe – Jeremy

He didn’t say he was sorry.  He just wanted to make sure I got home safe…

I don’t bother listening to the voice mail messages. I can see they’re all from Jeremy, and I imagine they are just the verbal variation of his text messages anyways.

I decide to spend the afternoon shopping.  I’d like to find something new to wear to the funeral tomorrow.  I brought an outfit with me just in case but it never hurt
s to explore other options, and it will take my mind off the reason I am here.  Plus, it will fill in a couple of hours before I plan to go and visit the family

I’
m all shopped out. I managed to find a long, black dress and a pair of sling back, low heeled shoes to wear to the funeral.  On my way back to the motel, I pass an international souvenir shop and decide to take a peek. 

Inside, there’s a range of different novelty toys, snow globes, flags, banners, stickers and stuffed toys from across the world.  I easily locate the Australia section and browse through the items.  On the top
shelf, above the stuffed koalas, is a massive stuffed kangaroo toy.  It’s got bright red boxing gloves on and a yellow shirt with
G’day Mate
scrawled across the centre in green writing. I pick it up and cuddle it to my chest.  It’s so soft.  It will be perfect for Mathilde. 

I pay for my purchase and then make my way back to the motel. After dropping off my shopping bags, I take the kangaroo and set off to visit the family.

I tentatively knock on the door.  I don’t know what to say to Mr. and Mrs. Rousseau – I mean, what
can
you say to parents who have just lost a child?  There are no words that will soothe their pain.

“Ava.  You made it.  Thank you for coming.” 
Marjette pulls me into a hug and kisses both of my cheeks.  “I haven’t had a chance to tell Pierre or Celine about you coming.  I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you, despite the circumstances.”

Pierre and Celine are known to me as Mr. and Mrs. Rousseau.  I’ve never called them by their first names, out of respect.  I follow
Marjette through the house until we reach the large sitting room.  There are people everywhere. Some crying, some involved in quiet chatter amongst themselves, some are looking through a photo album with smiles on their faces even though tears are running down their cheeks.

“
Ava
.” Mrs. Rousseau gasps when she spots me.  “Oh, Ava.”  I embrace her in a tight hug and we both begin to cry.  I feel Mr. Rousseau wrap his arms around both of us, so we’re standing in a three person cuddle. 

“I’m so, so sorry for your loss. Enzo was such a beautiful soul.” I choke out my words.

“Thank you.” They both sniffle and release me.  “I’m sure Mathilde will be excited to see you, she’s in her room playing with some of the other children.”  Mr. Rousseau tells me.

“Sure.  I’ll go find her and say
hi.  I brought a present,” I reply, holding up the kangaroo.

They give me a small smile and I make my way to find
Mathilde in her bedroom.

“Hey sweetheart.”  I spot
Mathilde sitting in the middle of her bed.  Another slightly older girl is sitting behind her, braiding her hair.

“Ava,” she squeals when she sees me.  She flings herself into my arms and I hug her tightly.

“I brought you a little present.” I hand her the kangaroo and she holds it tight to her chest. 

“I love it. Thank you.”

I stay with the family for a little while longer, before going back to my motel for the night.  The funeral is tomorrow morning and I want to get as much rest in as possible.  Not only am I still jetlagged, but I’m emotionally and physically exhausted from the events of the past few days.

I order room service, eat, shower and pass out. 

The next morning, I wake early and order room service again.  After devouring my eggs benedict, I shower and begin primping myself for the funeral of a little boy whose life was taken way too soon.  The church is a bit of a ways away, so I leave an hour before it’s due to commence.

After catching a cab across town, I arrive at the church with about ten minutes to spare.  I find a shady tree near the entrance and try not to look like a dork.  I haven’t noticed any of the fa
mily yet, so I’m assuming they’ve yet to arrive and all these people are friends of the family.

Soon enough, a couple of black cars arrive and the Rousseau family exits and walks into the church.  The priest comes out and ushers everyone inside.  I take a seat near the back and listen quietly as the service commences.

It’s a beautiful farewell for a beautiful boy.  The service only lasts about half an hour and then everyone stands as the coffin is carried out.  That’s when I start to cry.  I’d held it together for the service.  I’d sat near the back so I didn’t have a view of the coffin.  But I couldn’t stop the tears as I watched the four grown men in black suits cry openly as they carried out Enzo to The Hollies singing
He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother.

Despite being closest
to the exit, I was one of the last people out of the church. The family has chosen not to have a wake because Enzo will be cremated, and only very close family has been invited to attend the crematorium.   Now, everyone else can just go on their way.  According to the service booklet I was handed at the beginning, there will be a gathering tomorrow at the Rousseau’s house for everyone who wasn’t going to the crematorium – I guess that will be somewhat like a wake.

“Ava?” I turn at the sound of my name. “Oh, bonjour Ava, it’s really you!”

“Gaston! Oh wow, I didn’t expect to see you here.  How are you?”  I give him a hug and kiss both his cheeks in greeting, as he returns the same to me.

“I’m good, I’m good.  Sad day though.  I’ve been working alongside Pierre for the last six months, so I’ve become quite close with the family.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic for you.”

“Perhaps we could catch up while you’re here
.”

“I’m only here for a short time – I just flew in for the funeral.  We could grab a coffee now if you want.”

“That sound’s great.  There’s a nice little bistro just down from here.”

On the walk to the bistro, Gaston and I catch up on the last few years.  He’s hardly changed a bit, except for the beard he’s got going on which hides his dimpled cheeks.

Ever the gentlemen, Gaston holds the door for me and allows me to precede him into the booth where we have been seated.

We both order
coffees and ham and cheese croissants and then an awkward silence settles between us.

I turn on
an angle so I am facing him.  “Sooo, how’s Dolly?”  I ask, hoping to break the uneasiness.  Dolly is Gaston’s dog and the love of his life.  It would take a strong woman to endure coming second to that pooch for her entire life.  He treats her like a queen and caters to her every whim.  She’s also the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.  Dolly is a Chinese Crested dog – she’s bloody hairless!  That is
not
natural, if you ask me.

“Oh, she is going well.  She got her little doggie heart broken by a Chihuahua the other day.  Bastard probably wasn’t even pedigree.”

I laugh at him taking up for his dog, and just like that the awkwardness is gone. We talk and talk and talk. About everything and anything.  By the time I look at my watch, it’s late afternoon.

“Holy shit, Gaston, we’ve been sitting here for hours.  I better get back to the motel.  I want to catch up wit
h the family tomorrow at the house.  Will you be there?”

“
Oui
, Pierre said their family and friends have been an amazing support over the last week since the accident.  It is such a terrible tragedy to happen to such loving, caring parents.”

“Yes, it is.  I’m glad they have a great support network – they’re certainly going to need it.”

“Ava.”  My name rolls of his tongue in such as sexy way. 
That damn French accent.
  It’s an aphrodisiac on its own!  I look up at him from twiddling my napkin.

His hand reaches over and cups my jaw, and then his head lowers until his lips meet mine.  I close my eyes and Jeremy’s face fills my mind.

“Gaston, stop,” I say, pulling away.  “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

“No, Ava, it’s my fault.  I just wanted to try.  I can see you’re in love with someone else – it’s written all over your face.”  He says sounding resigned.  “I hope he knows how lucky he is.”

“It’s not as clear cut as that, but if anyone is lucky, it’s me.”

“Oh, my sweet Ava.  You have no idea,” he sighs, smiling.

This time, when he leans in for a kiss, he connects with my cheek.  His lips linger for longer than necessary, but I let him have this final goodbye.

“What the fuck?”
  I spin around at the sound of Jeremy’s sharp bark, nearly connecting my chin with Gaston’s nose.

“Jeremy, what you doing here?”  My mouth is gaping open and I’m sure my eyes are the size of saucers.
   

“Guess it doesn’t matter.  Seems I’ve been replaced,” he snarls in reply.

“No!  It’s not what it looks like.”

“Really, Ava?  Maybe it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“I’ll leave you to it, but perhaps you should take this somewhere a bit more private – I take it he’s the lucky one?”  Gaston enters the conversation, whispering in my ear.

“What the fuck is he saying?” Jeremy snaps, dragging his fingers through his hair roughly.

“Good luck, Ava.  Be happy.”

“You too, Gaston.”

I look back to Jeremy, who’s frantically tapping the keys on his mobile phone.  He looks distressed and disheveled; like he hasn’t slept for a while (most likely because he
hasn’t
slept for a while –the flight from Australia to Paris is a long one).  His hair is sticking up all the over place, no doubt from him running his fingers through it in frustration, his clothes are wrinkled and he looks…defeated.  I don’t like seeing him this way.  I want to pull him into my arms and make everything better again.  Then his harsh words replay in my mind.

I can’t do this shit right now.

“What was that, Ava?  Who was that bloke?”

“That was Gaston.  He’s my friend,” I answer quietly.

“He sure looked like more than a friend,” is his snide reply.

“What are you doing here, Jeremy?  Last time we spoke you said some pretty nasty stuff
, so why are you in Paris?

“Can I sit?”  I nod my head and scoot over so he has room.  He slides into the booth beside me and looks into my eyes.

Then, taking a deep breath, he explains.  “After you left, I spent the day with Oscar, trying to figure out where his head was at – which is a fucking difficult thing to do with a kid who’s five years old, let alone a kid with Autism.  That night, I spent it brooding. I knew I’d done the wrong thing by you and I was pissed at myself for not seeing the signs that Oscar was missing a mother figure in his life.  I took out that anger on you.”