Mathias heaved a large sigh before he started his explanation after my given indication that, yes, I still did want to hear what had happened all those years ago. “You probably don’t remember, but we went to the same high school,” he said. “I was a freshman when you were a senior. Everybody knew who you were. You and Anne-Marie. Everybody knew about your little store behind the school. I used to buy alcohol for my drunk of a father and cigarettes for my excuse of a mother.” He paused for a long while. “You’d count my money with a small smile. You treated me like a person. Deep down, I probably knew it was just customer service to keep me coming back. Then you started hanging out with Claire Dufour, if you can remember her.”

I did remember her. She was in Anne’s year, and she starting hanging around us. She just wanted to sit and watch us, offering her own take to things every so often. But otherwise, she was quiet. Claire had a knack for remembering faces and what they normally bought from us. She became an asset to our little business until she decided it wasn’t fun anymore.

“I hated seeing her with you,” he continued. “At first I thought I liked her. But whenever I saw you without her next to you, I felt relieved. Less anxious. When I saw her by herself, I didn’t really care. You caught my attention, not Claire. I realized I might like you.” He sniffed. “Margot was in a few of my classes, and I befriended her until she decided becoming a model was better. She had me over a few times to do homework…I don’t remember what made it happen, but I recall my heart beating too fast when I saw you half asleep on the couch in your living room.” There was another long pause, and I flinched as I felt his hand on my shin. “I didn’t have time to really go through my feelings or date others after monsieur Luis picked me up. I kept thinking about you, I couldn’t get you out of my head. It really isn’t one thing I can pinpoint.” He paused for even longer, and I thought he was done talking until he muttered a “Goodnight” of his own.

He removed his hand from my leg. I heard the soft flutter of a blanket as he got himself comfortable enough to sleep. I stayed on my back, staring up at the black ceiling. I’d been in his head this whole time, yet he didn’t recognize me until he saw that photo on Margot’s phone. Had I changed that much since then? Maybe he told himself that there was bound to be someone who looked like me somewhere in the world. I wasn’t the eye of his desires, until I was. And with that, with my already shattered last fragment of hope, any chance I had of leaving as Yves was grinded to dust.

I rolled onto my left side, closed my eyes. It wasn’t the answer I was expecting. But, then again, what answer was I expecting? I was nice to him a few times before I graduated, and that’s what led him to have a crush on me? For it to last eleven years? It felt like he wasn’t telling me everything. There was no real way for me to know; my high school years were murky at best. There was nothing I was able to pin down as concrete other than my immediate: my family, and my little store. It went up in a puff of smoke after Onufrin made his appearance.

Eventually, I tried to get some sleep. I was physically exhausted, but mentally, I couldn’t shut up. I kept going over the interaction with Henri, Mathias’ story, trying to figure out what my father and Onufrin had done to upset the Russians. And I thought of how Jaime must be adjusting to shelter life once again, or if she had already found a new forever home. If Margot had already frantically told the news that I was alive to my mother and sisters, or if she was keeping that information to herself for the time being. I fell asleep after exhausting my brain with all my hypothetical scenarios.

I remember when I first got Jaime. She had been rescued from a dog fighting ring. I was at the pound looking for a companion to cure my loneliness when she came in with animal control. Her white coat was marred with bloodied wounds, some from other dogs, more from the abuse she undertook from her owner. Tail tucked between her legs, ears pulled back, head close to the ground, she looked at me from behind the legs of the man who was holding her leash. I walked over to her, even though the shelter volunteer told me to leave them alone for the time being. I got on my knees in front of her, held out an open hand for her.

Reluctantly she came out from behind the man’s legs and sniffed at my hand. Then she got even closer to me and sniffed at my face. Her ears perked up, I gently placed my hand on an unmarked spot of her back. I told her I wasn’t going to hurt her, that she was a pretty puppy who deserved the world. If she wasn’t muzzled for fear of her biting, I was certain she would’ve licked my face all over. Then, she sat in front of me. Looked me in my eyes. I made my decision then and there: I would take her. And they let me, someone so willing to give a rescued Pitbull a loving home.

I was going to spoil her rotten after she got used to me. She had already been seen by a vet for her injuries, and the only real worry was her bite wounds getting infected. They handed me a bottle of antibiotics as I handed them the adoption paperwork. I was given her leash. Off we went, her dragging her feet some distance behind me, tail tucked between her legs again. Right as we got out of the door of the shelter she protested going any further. I picked her up in my arms, told her she was a big baby.

“Boo-hoo-hoo,” she cried. “«We leave now. »”

My eyes shot open, staring at the ceiling as I realized it was Henri speaking. His little conversation with Mathias floated around my head. He was back to, what I could only assume was, his usual self. His tone was bossy, carrying self-importance through the small argument.

“«Let him sleep a little longer. »” Mathias answered.

Henri tsked. “«We leave now, »” he repeated. “«We can’t wait any longer. We leave now, or you can’t have him. »” Mathias let out a groan but relented. I heard Henri walk off, his dog padding after him. There was a long silence before he came back, and Mathias let out a long whistle. “«For insurance. »”

“«Beautiful, »” Mathias swooned. “«If I can use this, we can leave now. »”

“«Good, »” Henri answered curtly.

I heard the clicking of a case, then Mathias called for me to wake up. I sat up, acting like I was startled by the suddenness. “We’re getting dressed,” he told me.

Crutch in one hand, duffel bag in the other, he retrieved me from the couch. I was practically dragged into the bathroom. He dug through the duffel bag once the door was closed, taking the crutch away from me and putting it just out of my reach. He dressed me in a lighter long-sleeve than my pajama shirt, jeans, then sat me on the counter to put my boots on. I wasn’t given the dignity of a coat or hat as I was herded into my own car by Mathias, and Henri. Mathias took his seat in the driver’s side, Henri in the passenger seat, and I sat blissfully alone in the back seat.

“«Where are we going? »” Mathias asked turning the car on.

“Boston,” Henri said. “Place I go for Yves.”

“Practicing your English?” Mathias muttered.

“«What? »”

“Nothing, never mind,” he sighed. “«Okay. » Boston.” He put the car in gear. I hoped whatever, whoever, was in Boston this time, was better than Henri.