Chapter Text
She took care of Alan first. "You fucking piece of shit!" she screamed as she pushed him out onto the landing. "You fucking pedo!"
Alan went like a sack of potatoes, trying to pull the pants up his legs and tripping over himself. "Marie — please — it’s not what you think—"
"Not what I think? Not what I think?! You fucked my brother!"
"He se—"
"You fucked my brother in my bed!" She felt insane, having to voice this. "He’s sixteen!" Her eyes swam with angry tears. Through the watery haze, Alan looked more pathetic than usual.
"He seduced me—"
Marie threw a pair of shoes at him, one after the other. They hit him on the stomach with a satisfying thwack. "GET OUT!"
"I wasn’t thinking—"
She slammed the door, swung the latch shut, and took a moment to catch her breath. It would be okay. It would all be okay. "I’ll have your shit out in the street in two hours!" That was being generous. "And I’m changing the locks."
Alan’s voice came, muffled and whiny, through the barrier of the door. "Marie, please! Listen to me! Let’s work—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Her throat was getting rubbed raw from all the screaming. "Shut up or I’ll call the police."
"Marie—"
"I will tell them you attacked me. So help me Dolores—"
Footsteps receded down the stairs. It was over.
***
The afternoon sun bisected the kitchen table, with half of it in light and half in shadow. Jean sat in the darker part, brewing like a stormcloud. He’d had time to get dressed. Thank goodness.
Marie lit a cigarette and opened the window to let the smoke out. The air was bracing. It was a cold, blustery day.
Jean was quiet and still, like an ugly statue. Marie bit down an impulse to throw him out, too. "Talk," she spat out in Vespertine before catching herself: with Alan gone, they could stick to their native tongue. She gave the table a smack. Jean flinched.
"Talk," she repeated, this time in Suresne.
"I can’t believe you kicked him out," Jean said sullenly. "He’ll freeze."
That would serve him right. "He’ll be fine."
"You’re a terrible girlfriend."
"I’m terrible? He’s terrible."
Jean hung his head. The bangs obscured his eyes. "You don’t even love him."
The gall of this fucker. "What do you know about love? I keep you under my roof, and you knife me in the back. Traitor."
Jean’s voice wobbled. "You’re a frigid old hag."
"Unbelievable." She tried to breathe through a wave of fury and anguish. "At least I’m a smart hag. You? You’re a dumbass young hussy." She could feel momentum building up. "Alan blamed everything on you. How’s that for love? I bet he told you you were mature for your age. So sexy." He was a gangly, awkward thing. Dolores, he still had acne. The fact that Alan found this appealing… Fuck. "Well, newsflash. You’re just a hole to stick a dick in."
Her words were finally getting through. A tear dripped down Jean’s long nose, then another.
The sight infuriated Marie further. "I don’t know why I bother with you." Her voice carried out of the open window for everyone to hear. Well, let them. At least Chloé was at the neighbor’s, hopefully getting some sleep. "You’re not even apologizing. You’re an innocent, lured in by his syphilitic dick." Her vision blurred again. Looking at Jean, she felt all-encompassing, white-hot anger. She was a mythical being made of lightning and thunder, and he was a cringing, blubbering creature. Pathetic, subhuman, undeserving of mercy.
Marie blinked the blur away. The creature turned back into her brother.
"He was nice to me," Jean whispered. "He was so lonely. He said — he said I’m the only one who understands him."
She could imagine it: Alan whining to Jean that he was tired, stressed, overwhelmed with parenthood. Of course Jean would eat it up. A gullible child, hungry for praise and affection.
She collapsed into a chair next to him. "Come here," she said.
Jean turned to her. Tears and terror had drained all color out of his eyes.
"Come," Marie repeated. "I won’t hurt you."
He made a movement in her direction, and she was able to draw him closer. His head came to rest on her shoulder. "What am I going to do with you?" she said into his tangled hair.
Moisture seeped into the fabric of her shirt. "Please don’t hate me," he croaked.
"I don’t hate you." She ashed the cigarette. "But you can’t stay here any longer."
Jean lurched away from her, wide-eyed. "Where would I go?" Another thought occurred to him. "Who will babysit Chloé?"
"I’ll manage. It’s not like you’ve been around." Two arrests in the past month and now… this.
"I thought I was helping you!" Jean’s voice betrayed a note of indignation.
"By fucking my boyfriend?"
He had nothing to say to that. The wind picked up, rattling the window in its frame. Marie shut it: the room had been aired out. "I mean it. You think you’re an adult? Act like one. Time to move out." They could figure out a plan together. "What did they tell you in detention?" As a young offender, he’d had to do career counseling.
"They, uh, suggested the militia.”
"Huh." An odd choice for a delinquent. Yet it made sense, in a way. "You could live at the Academy dorms." Housing issue: solved.
"Right," he said, without enthusiasm.
"It’s either that, or a brothel." Bad joke. Fuck, what a day. She located her emergency bottle of brandy and poured herself a drink.
Jean followed her movements with wary eyes. "Can I have some?"
"What? No." She’d seen him drunk twice; that was enough.
"But you said I’m an adult now."
She laughed. Jean joined in once he deemed it safe to do so.
"You’re incorrigible," Marie said. "But yes. You’re an adult." She poured him a finger. "To adulthood, then. Enjoy."