“Tell me what happened,” he said, drawing out the question that he hardly dared to ask.
She flinched as if some scary tale were being recounted to her, full of details that she didn’t want to hear. He half-expected her to put her hands over her ears. He watched the tiny hyperventilations at the base of her throat as she took anxious sips of air; he could see the workings of her frantic pulse. “Maman was leaving…” her mouth opened, “and…” her breath stuttered, “and…”
“And?”
Silence.
“I want Amandine…” the words came out in a jumble, “I am missing her so much.”
He watched the spillage of tears down her cheeks. “Maman was leaving,” he prompted, the words inching their way out of him, “and…”
“And Papa was cross,” she cried as if that were the whole story, as if it were the end of everyth
