Olivia

The past few days have been a blur of numbness and planning. The funeral is tomorrow, in Bas’s hometown. We leave Montreal and travel about an hour to the Eastern Townships, which are known as being a taste of New England with French flare. It’s picturesque with rolling hills and old, sometimes majestic country homes nestled along several lakes bordering Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.

Alec and Sam try to keep a conversation going, both boasting about the culinary treasures the region is known for in a manner much like Bas would have done if he were here. With pride for his home, his heritage, and the region’s fine foods like canard and the freshest organic produce in the country, Bas would have regaled me about the lavender fields, flavorful cheeses, vineyards, and top-notch hotels.

Sam tenderly holds my hand. Since arriving, he and I have been inseparable. While he’s been quiet and subdued for the most part, he won’t let me out of his sight, and when I’m near, he takes any chance he can to touch me like he needs me to breathe.

During the drive, he shares stories of Christmases spent in Bas’s home through his teens and early twenties, a place he still visits for several weeks twice a year. The mood sobers even more and we all sink into silence as it’s apparent this Christmas will be different. No doubt Bas’s absence will change things. It’s a sad thought that he will never return to his childhood home and make more memories with them.

Bas’s home is a simple, small two-story house on a large piece of land near one of the lakes. The home is old with wood and tile floors, baseboard heating, small bathrooms, and two wood-burning fireplaces. Of course, the kitchen is state of the art, feeling like one you’d find in a Michelin-star restaurant. Alec is quick to tell me that was the first renovation Bas did to the house, his eyes lighting up as he’s taken back to a younger and happier time when Bas was still here.

As the day drags on and Bas’s funeral nears, Alec becomes more unresponsive, holing away in the office with a bottle of cognac and a cigar. As night falls, Sam insists on taking me out, assuring me that Alec needs the time alone.

We drive to Mont Mégantic, the world’s first dark sky reserve, located in Mont Mégantic National Park. He explains that with the limited light in this part of the province, the park is one of the darkest and best places on the planet to stargaze.

As we walk through the dark, my hand in his, he eagerly shares tales of countless times the three of them ventured to the park on the spur of the moment for the most exceptional celestial display. While I’m unable to see his face, I can hear the love and laughter in his voice as he relives his wonderful memories of Bas.

Laying down the big woolen blanket he brought, we sit, him perched beside me, pulling me close into his warm and inviting embrace. He tugs us down until we’re lying on our backs, and the vast, starry night sky is boundless, a lit-up canvas lain out before us. It’s not only stars and planets that are visible; we can also see the Milky Way, like a cloudy path of twinkling lights traversing the night sky.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks. I nod, in awe of the beauty. “Thank you for being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I want to be,” I whisper, low and emphatic. Taking his hand in mind, I kiss his knuckles, loving him and trying to convey the depth of feeling I have for him with my touch.

“I feel close to him here. Being in his childhood home and now here, I feel him around me. God, I hope I never lose that.” His voice is low, wavering toward the end.

“No matter what, you’ll never lose him. I know it sounds hard to believe, but he’s with you Sam.” Placing my hand over his heart, I firmly press against his chest. “He’s in here. He’ll never be far.”

Amidst the enormity of the sky and universe, it’s easy to feel alone, yet also part of something so much bigger than yourself. I hope—no, I believe Bas is up there, somewhere, looking down on us. On Sam and Alec. Forever loving them and watching over them.

The day of Bastien’s funeral is somber. Dark gray clouds burden the sky, threatening a downpour. The wind is unusually cold and fierce for September, whipping my hair all over the place. Finally, no longer wanting to fight with it, I grab hold of my wild tresses and crudely tie them back into a low bun.

The church is crowded, overflowing with people. Many have come from far and wide, including a chef or two from France and a few from British Columbia and California. Bas is—was world-renowned in culinary circles. There’s no doubt he made his mark, and in the short time I knew him, he certainly made his mark on me.

The ceremony is beautiful and sad. Sam manages to say a few words before losing it, and Alec does too. Afterward, as we begin to depart the church for the cemetery, all three of us are quiet. None of us have spoken to the others since we arrived at the church. Sam and Alec are surrounded by well-meaning people who wish to convey their condolences but it’s overwhelming.

Finally, the priest ushers people along, reminding everyone that we must get to the cemetery. Outside, at the grave, the wind howls and the skies darken further. The service is quick and like many, I drop a single red rose upon the casket. Rivers of tears run down my face.

Standing silently beside Sam, our fingers interlaced, I scan the crowd of people still milling around the gravesite, all of them jockeying to speak to Sam, Alec, or both. After what feels like hours, the crowd thins and the three of us are left with only a smattering of people.

Marie-Claire, Bas’s childhood friend, calls Sam over. Glancing my way, he gestures for us to go, but he’s torn at leaving a stoic and dazed Alec by himself. I squeeze his hand in reassurance. “It’s okay, go. Alec and I will be fine.”

At hearing his name, Alec nods in agreement, mutely giving Sam the go ahead to leave. As Sam’s tall form, with his head hung low, ambles across the grass, Alec breaks our silence by clearing his throat.

“You don’t see it, do you?”

“Pardon?” I turn to face him.

“That boy has given you his heart.”

Speechless, I examine the depths of his eyes. While his expression exudes warmth, his voice is cold, almost disappointed. I’m not sure what to say; I’m not prepared for this conversation or that truth, or even my own feelings. Like him, I’m overcome with sadness, too raw and crushed to handle any more.

“You may not know it—shit, you likely didn’t even ask for it, but it’s yours.” Alec stares at Sam where he is speaking with Marie-Claire. His arms encase her frail, petite form as he comforts the older, sobbing woman. “You better honor Bastien’s request of you. You better take good care of Sam’s heart. Of him. He is the one and only thing Bas loved most in this world. He would have given everything up for him. He made me promise, although he knew he needn’t ask, to look after and protect Samson. Olivia.” He turns to look solemnly at me, his eyes are fatigued, black circles ringing them. He’s aged, understandably so, in these past few days. “You have the power to destroy him. Bas will rise from the dead and haunt me if I let you hurt Sam.”

“Alec…” I falter, feeling the need to say something, to defend myself and comfort him, yet not knowing what to say. I have no intention of hurting Sam.

How do I feel? I love Sam, but is it love, love? I like him a lot. I enjoy my time with him. In fact, I anxiously look forward to it and miss him terribly when we’re apart—but is that love? Am I ready to be in love? I’m not prepared for this deep conversation.

Bas’s words are coming back to haunt me. I pushed them aside when they were spoken, not ready to deal with it, and now it’s unnerving to hear something similar again, to see the belief Alec has in the power he feels I have over Sam. I’m not sure I want that kind of influence.

“Olivia,” Sam interrupts my thoughts. Alec stands silent and reserved, his gaze transfixed on me, measuring my every move—at least that’s how it feels. “Let’s go.”

As he takes my hand, fat, cold drops of rain hit my face. Sam opens an umbrella and hands one to Alec then his arm circles my waist as he steers me toward the car. Glancing back to where Alec remains motionless, he says, “Alec, you coming?”

The rain pelts down on us, each hard splat against our umbrellas unsettling me further. Alec looks like a man moored to the gloomy, dark backdrop. “No, I’m going to stay a bit. I’ll get a ride back. You go ahead.” His voice is heavy, pained.

Sam drives to the house in silence. Leaving him to his thoughts, I contemplate my brief but troubling encounter with Alec. Of all things the man must be plagued with since the death of his husband, why say this to me? I’m still confused and wish we had been able to finish what he started.

Alec returns several hours later, wet and chilled to the bone but more like himself, insisting on making us a simple, comforting meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup. Conversation is sparse and the evening is subdued and quiet. We all turn in early.

Sam and I are silent as we undress for bed, slipping under the covers. Wordlessly, he reaches for me in the dark. The pale moonlight slices through the thin curtains, illuminating enough of his face for me to see the deep lines of anguish in his forehead and around his mouth. His lips crush mine in an unforgiving, frenetic kiss, expressing his deep and unyielding need for me. For us.

Unlike the tumultuous storm of emotions within both of us, we make slow, sensual, silent love. For the first time ever, my moans and whimpers are soft undertones for his ears only. No effort or interference is needed to keep me quiet, and my faint murmurs are no less indicative of my pleasure than my usual loud sounds and sighs. Somehow, I know this is what he needs, and unexpectedly, I’m capable of silence during passionate sex.

Sam gives me his sorrow, his suffering with his body, and I in turn give him solace and love. Our union is no less intense or passionate than it has been previously. We move as one, our breaths hot and heavy, our kisses deep, long, and powerful. Our joining is deeply devastating in its significance and exhilarating all at the same time, reminding us that we’re alive.

Once we are both spent, we cling to each other, our damp, heavy chests moving in tandem as we come down from our climax. My mouth travels his face, his neck, his upper chest, tasting and revering, adoring him. He holds me tight, wrapping his arms around me and draping one leg over mine. We both lie still, listening to the rain fall. Sam eventually finds sleep and I listen to his even, deep breaths as I’m eventually lulled into slumber.

The bed dips and rises with Sam’s departure from the bed. It’s just after six o’clock in the morning. I lie still, listening as he pulls on his pants and closes the door behind him. After a few footfalls, I hear the muffled voices of Sam and Alec through the paper-thin walls. Giving the two of them this much-needed time to talk, I burrow farther into the soft down covers and close my eyes.

Not long after, the strong, alluring aroma of coffee permeates the bedroom, followed by the familiar kitchen clatter of breakfast coming together. It’s time for me to go home. I’ve been here nearly a week and I need to leave today. I’m taking the train to the airport in a few short hours. I don’t want to leave Sam, I want to be here for him, but I also know that Alec and Sam need some time together. They have things to discuss and decisions to make.

Breakfast is solemn. There isn’t much talking, but the tension has lifted, perhaps from knowing Bas is at rest. After a delicious and hearty breakfast, Sam loads the car with my bags and I linger in the foyer, waiting for Alec, hoping to get a moment alone.

“Olivia.” Alec’s deep rumble comes from behind me.

“Alec.” I sigh with relief at his usual tone and warm expression. I open my arms and he envelopes me in a big, long hug, his rich, masculine cologne a welcoming scent.

“I wanted to talk to you before I left.”

“Olivia.” He pushes back half a step, and we’re only inches apart as he peers down at me. “Me first. I’m sorry about yesterday. I realize I came on strong, and I was reacting out of fear—my fear of fucking this up, of being alone and not being enough for Sam. I’m sorry.” His voice wavers and his fingers lightly squeeze my shoulders.

Blinking back tears, I force a small, reassuring smile. Seeing him this vulnerable, appreciating his honesty, and understanding where he’s coming from, I want nothing more than to cry. Loving someone is a precious gift, and one that’s often taken for granted. In Alec’s eyes, he understands the magnitude of the gift he had and its loss.

I wish I could ease his grief, and I’m also grateful that Alec and Sam have each other. Their unconditional love for each other will carry them through. They will need each other more than ever now in their shared loss, and it’s their unending love of one man, Bastien, that will bond them even stronger than they are today and pull them through this dark and miserable time.

“No apologies needed. I understand and I want to tell you that I have no intention of hurting Sam. I love him. I’ll take care of him,” I assure him.

“My sweet girl, I know you believe that from the bottom of your heart. It’s clear as day in your eyes, in the way you look at him and talk to him, but how does that work?” My eyebrow quirks in confusion. “You live in Toronto and he’s in Montreal. How do you build a life together when he has no intention of ever leaving this place? Are you prepared to uproot your life for him?”