After the End: Book 4

57. Coraline Béliveau

Louis POV

If I had to choose one character flaw in myself to work on, it would definitely be boundaries. I needed more of them. At this point, I was starting to doubt I had any of them actually.

"Lottie, I'm fine," I heard myself repeating over the phone again. "I swear it. I'm not sure why you're acting like this."

"You had a fake seizure," she reminded me coldly.

"One time," I lied. "It happened once Lottie. I'm fine."

She sighed. "Fine," she agreed. "I'll call you later."

"You really don't have to," I assured her.

"I love you too."

She hung up on me, and I texted her that I loved her before unbuckling my seat belt and climbing out of my parked car. I was in a place I'd never been before, which had made it difficult to find given the phone call that was occupying my screen instead of the GPS.

The building was made of grey bricks, stacking several stories high, and it was much wider than your average home. The lawn was a immaculate and the shrubbery looked well kept. As I passed through the carefully crafted gates and the sign labeling the place as the Briarcroft Home for Assisted Living and Memory Care, I thought this place didn't look near as sad as I had imagined it would be.

My phone call with Cory that morning had been awkward. She'd had some revelations for me, but she had seemed rather surprised by my willingness to listen and take instruction from her. I was impressed by how much softer her voice had become over two weeks. I was also shocked by how proudly she'd told me she was two weeks sober. She was still closed off in a lot of ways, but it seemed she'd planned her revelations in advance, so what she did tell me, she said in that familiar straightforward emotionless delivery. She'd given me very specific instructions alongside them.

When I reached the front door, I hesitated for just a moment to consider my boundary issues before going in.

The lobby was a wide open space, with high vaulted ceilings, fluorescent pot lights, copious potted plants. I'm addition to that, the far end of the room was scattered with comfy looking armchairs and benches. A few elderly people sat throughout the sitting areas, with younger people who looked like employees wandering about among them.

To the left, there was a short wooden welcome desk, with a young woman in scrubs sitting cross legged on a high stool behind it. She was looking at her phone, but she looked up to greet me when the bell on the door alerted her to my presence.

"How can I help you?" She asked cheerily.

I crossed the rest of the way to the desk and recited the words that Cory had requested.

"Hi," I mustered in a pleasant voice. "I'm here to pay the bill for one of the residents here." I paused to be careful in my pronunciation. "Francoís Béliveau."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You're here for Franky? Really?"

"I think so," I said sounding unsure. "His granddaughter called me. She got caught up with something, and forgot to make sure it was covered at the start of the month."

That's what Cory had called to tell me. I'd dragged her to rehab so abruptly, she'd forgotten to make arrangements for her grandfather who was apparently not dead, as she'd previously implied. He wasn't dead, he just wasn't all that present. He'd been living at the Briarcroft Home for a very long time; most of Cory's adult life actually. Longer than most people.

"Oh," she said nodding. "Yeah I can help you do that. The thing is, the computer kind of died a little bit ago, and it's turning back on now, but it's going to be a few minutes before I can charge the account. In the meantime though, Franky would love a visitor!"