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Pain crashed into Jean in waves. It was always there, under the surface. A constant drumming in his body that he long ago learned to tune out. But if he focused on his body, it was there.
Sometimes, however, it could not be ignored.
It was hollow but heavy, never-ending. These days were inevitable. His body had undergone too much for too long. He could try and pretend he was fine, but reality would come crashing in as soon as he almost believed it.
The pain was sharp and hot, like a molten knife carving him apart. Laying in bed and resting was his only option. But with rest came too much thinking. It was like his brain was overcompensating for the uselessness of his flesh. Nothing good came out of a brain as dark and dismal as Jean Moreau’s.
His friends always knew when something was wrong. Sometimes they knew before Jean knew himself. He still didn’t think he deserved them, but that didn’t stop them from treating him with every kindness. They gave him a home, a safe space for healing. And maybe that was why his body and brain began catching up to him.
He was in his room, as comfortable as he could be. Jeremy had switched the curtains out for black-out ones when he found out about Jean’s light sensitivity when he was in pain. He couldn’t stand the dark though, or the silence. There was a fan on for white noise. There was a ridiculous strand of golden retriever-shaped Christmas lights on one wall. Jean hated them and the way they illuminated the cardboard dog peeking out of his closet. He would throw it straight into the trash if standing up didn’t make him feel like he would pass out, throw up, or both.
He had to admit it was cozy.
Jean was bundled up in a soft sweatshirt and soft blankets. He was propped up on soft pillows. He had a heating pad and pain medications. Such comforts were something Jean had never imagined. Whether he deserved his friends or not, he was grateful for them.
The house was empty. Everyone was at class and would later be at practice. There was a cart by Jean’s bed loaded up with snacks and anything he could think to need. There was a cane propped up by his bed for when he had to get up. He loathed using the thing and only did when he absolutely had to. Jean couldn’t deny its use, though. It greatly helped take pressure off of his aching knee and hips.
Betsy had suggested in one of their weekly phone calls that Jean should try listening to music. She said it could help keep his mind busy when things were too much. He had told Jeremy about it. A week later he was handed a small grey iPod, his favorite color. It was simple, all he had to do was press the ‘play’ button. Jeremy had filled it with a variety of French music. They were mostly quiet songs. Some were classics, some were modern. Jeremy also left his iPod (an infuriating sunny gold color) for Jean in case he wanted English music.
Jean was using his iPod now. The sweet, lilting sound of French music was calming. It helped him focus on something else while he let his body rest. It made him almost smile that Jeremy had no idea what the music he picked said.
He was quickly pulled out of that thought as the next song played. It was so different from the soft love song that preceded it. It was a lullaby and extremely common, Jeremy couldn’t have known the significance it held to Jean.
Alouette, gentille alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai
Je te plumerai la tête
Je te plumerai la tête
Et la tête, et la tête
Alouette, Alouette
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Suddenly he was back in Marseilles. He was with Elodie on the beach, they were taking a walk. She was tugging on his sleeve, trying to get him to look at a bird. Last week she had taken a bird book home with her from school. It was some type of children’s field guide. Jean wasn’t very big at this age, but Elodie was even smaller. He scooped her up in her little duckling dress and swung her
Alouette, gentille alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai
Je te plumerai le bec
Je te plumerai le bec
Et le bec, et le bec
Et la tête, et la tête
Alouette, Alouette
Oh, oh, oh, oh
For each verse, he pulled on one of her unruly curls. Every morning Jean did his best to pull them back into a ponytail. By the time school was over, her curls were mostly free. She giggled loudly and carefree. He relished each laugh, it was always the sweetest sound.
Alouette, gentille alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai
Je te plumerai le cou
Je te plumerai le cou
Et le cou, et le cou
Et le bec, et le bec
Et la tête, et la tête
Alouette, Alouette
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Jean was in Elodie and his shared room. She was curled into a little ball against him. She was crying. He held her close, squeezing so she knew he was there. They held on to each other like they were each other’s only lifelines. Their parents were fighting in the other room. There was screaming and the sound of things breaking. Jean sang close to Elodie’s ear, hoping it covered the sound enough.
Alouette, gentille alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai
Je te plumerai les ailes
Je te plumerai les ailes
Et les ailes, et les ailes
Et le cou, et le cou
Et le bec, et le bec
Et la tête, et la tête
Alouette, Alouette
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Jean was leaving. He had nothing packed, he wouldn’t need anything where he was going his father said. He didn’t know if he had done well or poorly at his exy match; he just knew he was going to America, and he wasn’t coming back. There were no words he could say to Elodie, nothing would make leaving her behind okay. He could only hope that his parents’ debts were paid enough and that she would have a better life.
All he could do was hold her too his chest in a tight hug. He didn’t know why he did it, but he sang that lullaby. It never failed to make her feel better. Maybe this time it was for himself.
“ Je t’aime mon petit canard. ” He gave her a kiss on the head. She looked up at him with her big grey eyes, full of tears. He felt every piece of his heart breaking. Elodie pulled her hand away and handed him a crumpled piece of paper she had been holding in her hand. They pulled him away and had to hold back a screaming Elodie.
Alouette, gentille alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai
Je te plumerai les ailes
Je te plumerai les ailes
Et les ailes, et les ailes
Et le cou, et le cou
Et le bec, et le bec
Et la tête, et la tête
Alouette, Alouette
Oh, oh, oh, oh
He was battered and bloody. The pain was so fierce he thought it would kill him. The Master was trying to break him. Riko was too. There wasn’t an inch of his body free of injury. He dragged himself across the floor of his room, towards his bed. He lifted himself up to sitting, it took him way too long to do so. He summoned every last ounce of his strength to lift up his mattress. He grabbed the crumpled paper out and collapsed back to the floor, curling up in the fetal position as small as he could make himself. The dim red light made the blue crayon drawing look black. His eyes were almost swollen shut, but he could blurrily make out the drawing of a big duck next to a little duck. ‘ Je t’aime aîné canard ‘ it said in scribbled letters. He prayed to whatever God was out there that she was safe.
Alouette, gentille alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai
Je te plumerai les ailes
Je te plumerai les ailes
Et les ailes, et les ailes
Et le cou, et le cou
Et le bec, et le bec
Et la tête, et la tête
Alouette, Alouette
Oh, oh, oh, oh
He was curled up in the fetal position now. It made his joints ache, but he was secondary to physical pain. Jean let out sobs that came from deep within, from his heart that he was sure couldn’t break anymore. He wished that he still had that drawing. He wished he had anything to show that she had existed. All he had was his memory and a shattered dream that she would be safe. That losing himself was enough to save her. He wished he could hold her, to tell her he loved her. He would never be able to again, and it was more than he could bear.
Alouette, gentille alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai
Je te plumerai les ailes
Je te plumerai les ailes
Et les ailes, et les ailes
Et le cou, et le cou
Et le bec, et le bec
Et la tête, et la tête
Alouette, Alouette
Oh, oh, oh, oh
The words made him sick. How cruel the words felt now that the feathers had been plucked from his little lark as she was left for dead. The song ended and Jean had no sense of how long he laid there crying.
He hadn’t noticed the door open or someone enter the room. But there was someone there, pulling the earbuds out of his ears and grabbing his shoulder, shaking him gently. The room felt miles away, and he couldn’t hear what words were being spoken. All he could do was follow the instinct to pull them closer. Jeremy followed, laying next to him on the too-small twin-sized mattress. Jean curled into Jeremy, almost on top of him. He buried his face into the soft sweatshirt and breathed in the unmistakable scent of Jeremy . Jeremy murmured soft words to him. He ran his fingers through Jean’s hair soothingly with one hand, the other was holding Jean to him tightly.
Eventually, Jean stopped crying. He focused on Jeremy’s touch, trying to anchor himself. He was speaking before he even realized words were coming out.
“I had a sister. Her name was Elodie. She was my everything. I fixed her clothes and played with her and sang her songs and told her stories. The only hope I ever held on to was that she was safe. But she wasn’t. They let her die, their own daughter. I couldn’t keep her safe.” His accent was thick, he wasn’t sure if Jeremy could even understand him. But he had to speak about her out loud. He needed someone else to know. “I called her mon petit canard– my little duck.”
“Oh Jean–” Jeremy said, his own tears coming now. He tried to hold them back as he held Jean even closer. They stayed like that until they both fell asleep.