— Grandpa, some water.
I gave him his little bottle.
Elise watched her drink, then she took a deep breath.
— Victor used to say that without him, I was nobody.
— Victor confused “person” with “free”.
My daughter smiled.
This time, completely.
Things haven’t gone back to the way they were before.
Some things are not worth coming back.
My blood pressure remained high for a while.
The doctor again asked me to avoid strong emotions.
I replied that I would try.
It was a lie.
Because if one day Camille needs her grandfather to get angry, I will get angry.
But I learned something else.
Anger can also wear a clean shirt, carry a file under its arm, and arrive on time at the notary’s office.
Not everything can be solved by shouting.
Sometimes, this is resolved by arriving before a lie is recorded.
My name is Gabriel Moreau.
I am sixty-six years old.
That day, I saw my daughter asking for money at a red light, my granddaughter against her, barefoot on the burning asphalt.
I did not save a defeated woman.
I found my daughter.
And I woke up the man who had kept files, names, and debts for ten years.
Victor and Geneviève thought that Elise was alone.
That was their mistake.
They took her house, her car, her money, and they tried to take her baby.
But they failed to take one thing from him.
The way back.
And as long as I am alive, none of my girls will ever need to beg in the middle of cars to deserve help.
Not in this city.
Not under this Parisian sky.
Not with my granddaughter crying in her mother’s arms.
