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"Chaussettes," Meg says, sitting on Alain's bed and watching her fiance throw (almost literally) clothes into the bag he's packing.
It's not the way Meg packs -- she has lists and there's careful folding to maximize space and so on -- but it's not her bag. Alain tends to pack at the last minute and on whims. Which means he occasionally forgets things like socks or his toothbrush or, on one memorable occasion, any shirt but the one he wore out of the apartment.
"Oui. Chaussettes. Merci," Alain says, pulling two pairs of socks from a drawer and adding them to the top of the bag. He looks down into the bag, reaches in to move things around, and then looks back to Meg. "Je pense que c'est tout."
Meg nods, her own eyes still on the bag. "Meg?" Alain says, and she blinks and looks up at him. He frowns at her a little. "Ma belle, are you sure you'll be all right?"
"Of course," Meg says. "You'll only be gone two days." Alain and his brother have been drafted to help with the move of a cousin who lives in a town whose name Meg cannot quite remember. "Why wouldn't I be all right?"
"I don't know. You just look tired," Alain says, reaching one hand out and letting it rest against her cheek.
"Well, I did get up at 5 a.m. to help my fiance pack," Meg says. Luc is due at 5:30.
"Yes," Alain says, "but you look more tired than that would explain."
"Maybe a little," Meg allows. "It's been a busy semester. But I'm fine."
"I can tell them I can't come," Alain says.
"I'm fine," Meg repeats. "Go help your cousin. Don't worry about me."
Alain hesitates for a moment, his hand still resting against her cheek, and then nods. "Get some rest this weekend. Don't just study the whole time I'm gone. You can stay here, if you want some quiet."
"I probably will."
"Good," Alain says.
There's a knock at the front door.
"That'll be Luc," Meg says.
"Oui." Alain leans down and kisses her. "I'll call you. I love you."
"Je t'aime, aussi, Alain. Have fun," Meg says. "And don't worry about me. I really am fine."
"Go back to bed," Alain tells her, kisses her once more, and leaves.
Meg doesn't go back to bed, though. She likes mornings, even ones that start very early. They're quiet and still and generally speaking she can get a lot done. She fixes toast and tea and settles in to study at the table in the apartment she doesn't officially in just yet.
It's surprisingly hard to focus.
Maybe she is more tired than she realized.
She fixes soup, when it's lunch time, but finds the idea of actually eating it to be incredibly unappealing.
Meg revises her earlier theory. Maybe she's coming down with something.
She spends Saturday afternoon dozing on Alain's sofa and drinking most of the apple juice in the refrigerator. Alain calls in the evening, but they're both too tired for a proper conversation. He thinks he'll he home by tomorrow afternoon, though possibly not till the evening.
Meg wakes up Sunday morning with a sore throat and a dreadful headache and suspects she might be running a low fever. She decides against going to church, and instead curls back up on the couch with a book she can't seem to pay any attention to.
Finally, just before noon, she gives up on reading and the couch, and decides she's going back to bed.
It's not the way Meg packs -- she has lists and there's careful folding to maximize space and so on -- but it's not her bag. Alain tends to pack at the last minute and on whims. Which means he occasionally forgets things like socks or his toothbrush or, on one memorable occasion, any shirt but the one he wore out of the apartment.
"Oui. Chaussettes. Merci," Alain says, pulling two pairs of socks from a drawer and adding them to the top of the bag. He looks down into the bag, reaches in to move things around, and then looks back to Meg. "Je pense que c'est tout."
Meg nods, her own eyes still on the bag. "Meg?" Alain says, and she blinks and looks up at him. He frowns at her a little. "Ma belle, are you sure you'll be all right?"
"Of course," Meg says. "You'll only be gone two days." Alain and his brother have been drafted to help with the move of a cousin who lives in a town whose name Meg cannot quite remember. "Why wouldn't I be all right?"
"I don't know. You just look tired," Alain says, reaching one hand out and letting it rest against her cheek.
"Well, I did get up at 5 a.m. to help my fiance pack," Meg says. Luc is due at 5:30.
"Yes," Alain says, "but you look more tired than that would explain."
"Maybe a little," Meg allows. "It's been a busy semester. But I'm fine."
"I can tell them I can't come," Alain says.
"I'm fine," Meg repeats. "Go help your cousin. Don't worry about me."
Alain hesitates for a moment, his hand still resting against her cheek, and then nods. "Get some rest this weekend. Don't just study the whole time I'm gone. You can stay here, if you want some quiet."
"I probably will."
"Good," Alain says.
There's a knock at the front door.
"That'll be Luc," Meg says.
"Oui." Alain leans down and kisses her. "I'll call you. I love you."
"Je t'aime, aussi, Alain. Have fun," Meg says. "And don't worry about me. I really am fine."
"Go back to bed," Alain tells her, kisses her once more, and leaves.
Meg doesn't go back to bed, though. She likes mornings, even ones that start very early. They're quiet and still and generally speaking she can get a lot done. She fixes toast and tea and settles in to study at the table in the apartment she doesn't officially in just yet.
It's surprisingly hard to focus.
Maybe she is more tired than she realized.
She fixes soup, when it's lunch time, but finds the idea of actually eating it to be incredibly unappealing.
Meg revises her earlier theory. Maybe she's coming down with something.
She spends Saturday afternoon dozing on Alain's sofa and drinking most of the apple juice in the refrigerator. Alain calls in the evening, but they're both too tired for a proper conversation. He thinks he'll he home by tomorrow afternoon, though possibly not till the evening.
Meg wakes up Sunday morning with a sore throat and a dreadful headache and suspects she might be running a low fever. She decides against going to church, and instead curls back up on the couch with a book she can't seem to pay any attention to.
Finally, just before noon, she gives up on reading and the couch, and decides she's going back to bed.