Until the Last of Me by Sylvain Neuvel

Author:Sylvain Neuvel [Neuvel, Sylvain]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Random House UK
Published: 2021-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

34

Walking on the Moon

She shaved her head. I don’t know why that bothers me. I loved her hair, loved burying my face in it. This is a good look, just not what I had imagined. I suppose that’s it. I have this idea of her, now, this person I long for, and the hair reminds me that person doesn’t exist. She’s her, not my version of her.

I wonder who she’s meeting here. Fancy café, Victorian furniture. There are so many old books. I think I can smell them. This place was made for men who wear monocles. So not her. Here I go again. Billie never cared much for what people think of her. Billie’s Billie. There’s no such thing as not her. Still, I keep thinking of who could walk in through that door and sit across that table. Girlfriend. Girl friend. Husband. Accountant. Maybe she’s not meeting anyone. Maybe she just felt like having a fancy coffee sitting in a green velvet chair. Maybe she’ll dig into her bag and take out a monocle.

—You just going to sit there or are you going to come and talk to me?

Shit. She didn’t turn around, but I think she’s talking to me.

— …

—Do you think I’m blind? You don’t think I’d notice a crazy lady staring at me from behind for twenty minutes?

—I didn’t think you’d recognize me.

—You recognized me. Besides, you look like your mother walked out of a time machine. It’s a bit eerie, seriously. Come. Sit your ass down, you ghost.

My heart’s pumping like I just ran a marathon. I don’t know if I’m ready for th—

—OUCH! Why’d you pinch me?!

—Sorry. Had to make sure.

I don’t know how many times I imagined this moment. I’ve had that talk with her a hundred times in my head. I had it down to a T. Now that she’s sitting right in front of me, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her. I’m the same scared twenty-year-old who took a drag off her cigarette when we first met.

—I like the new look.

—No, you don’t, but thank you for saying it. I went to your funeral, you know. Your husband was there. There were something like a dozen armed guards standing ten feet behind, but really it was just him, no one else. Poor guy. I know funerals are supposed to be sad, but yours was fucking pathetic.

—You said you were there.

—I watched from a distance.

— …

—Come on! What was I going to say? “Hi! You don’t know me, but I used to fuck your wife”?

—Did you know I was alive?

—I didn’t know anything. I just … Like I said, it was just him. I mean, you weren’t the easiest person to be around, but your own mother didn’t show. Then there’s the whole “Nina the ‘interpreter’ falls off a platform at some top-secret military site, miraculously survives, only to die in a fire at the hospital the very same day.” I mean, that is some serious bad luck.

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