Gastien Pt 1

by Caddy Rowland

  Stopping by the bank, he took out a year’s worth of rent for Emma. He would pay her tomorrow before he went to work. Things were moving along decently, if not as quickly as he would like.

  He had not heard from Nath, but he did not expect he would until the baby was born. It had only been a little over a month since she had told him, after all! She was married now, he supposed. Sighing, he went to his room to put his money away.

  Gastien had errands that day, which made time go fast. Soon, the day was over and he was in bed for the night. He tried not to think of the empty room next to him. Although he was glad for Mic, it seemed like anyone he cared about either left him or he had to leave. Why did life have to be so hard? Shrugging it off, he went to sleep.

  XLIII

  The next day he was busy helping some artist friends jockey paintings around to a restaurant that had agreed to let them show there. He barely got home in time to clean up and get ready for work. Gastien met Emma in the hall on his way out, handing her the money. “Here is next year’s rent, Emma. I will sign the papers tomorrow. I have to get going or I will be late!”

  “Ok, dear. Work hard. I am glad that you are staying.” Emma hugged him.

  “Me, too. You are really good to me,” Gastien said tenderly.

  “It is those big eyes!” she teased.

  Gastien gave her a quick hug. “I have to run. See you tomorrow morning!” called Gastien as he hurried out the door.

  He made it in time to work, barely getting organized before the night started. It was a busy one, giving him little time to think. The new waiter that replaced Mic was still not quite as fast as he would be once he was there awhile.

  At around eleven o’clock, he heard people talking as they walked in. There was a fire, they said, and it was an awful one. Someone’s home had burned completely to the ground. Poor bastards, Gastien thought, how devastating! He forgot about it, because things did not let up in his section of the restaurant.

  At midnight it was time for him to leave. After changing clothes, Gastien went to say goodnight to Maurice. Walking through the dining room, he overheard a patron saying, “The fire was just horrible! I stood there and watched, not believing that they could do nothing! It is so sad. They say the widow burned to death inside. There is nothing left.”

  Gastien stopped in his tracks. He quickly turned to the table. “Please forgive me for interrupting you, but did you say a widow died in a house fire tonight?” he asked anxiously. Non, it can’t be, he thought, there are lots of widows, after all…

  “Oui, the whole house is burned to the ground! They think it was a grease fire in the kitchen that quickly got out of control.”

  “Where was this house located?” asked Gastien. A feeling of foreboding chilled his veins.

  “Up the street about five or six blocks. It was a yellow house. On the corner.”

  “Noooooooo!” Gastien turned and ran. He didn’t stop until he got to his house. Or, rather, what used to be his house. As he got closer, he could see people milling around. The smell of smoke permeated the air. Gastien pushed his way through, staring at the charred remains of the building.

  There was nothing left that resembled a house, only a few scraps of wood still smoldering. His hands shaking, he approached the fireman standing there. “Monsieur? Please! Can you tell me if anyone was home when this fire occurred?”

  The fireman looked at him tiredly. “Oui. The owner, I guess. We heard her screaming, but there was nothing we could do. The fire was too far gone by the time we arrived.”

  Gastien’s legs buckled and he fell to the ground. The next thing he knew, someone was standing over him, waving smelling salts under his nose. “He is coming to,” he heard someone in the crowd say. The medical doctor eased Gastien up to a sitting position, bracing him up with his arm. “Monsieur? Are you all right? Did you know the lady?”

  Gastien just stared stupidly at the man. Finally his mouth worked. “Oui. She was my landlady. I rented a room there.” He slowly got up, walking over to a tree. He sat down with his back against it, simply staring into space. He did not cry or even curse. People came and went without him even being aware of them. Somebody put a blanket around him, but he did not notice. He was so numb from the total loss that he could not feel the cold.

  All he knew was that he was back to square one. He had lost everything. His clothes, his bed, his supplies, his paintings. The photo of his mother. And most of all, Emma. Now he was truly alone. Nath had left, Mic had left, and Emma was dead. He owned nothing. The year’s rent was burned up as well. I should be angry, he thought. I should be scared. Or sad. But I am not. I am simply empty. As the night went on, he remained sitting there, motionless.

  Finally the doctor had someone help him get Gastien to his feet. He hauled him to his own house, where he gave Gastien the spare room. He watched with concern as Gastien simply lay down on the bed, fully clothed, not bothering to even use the covers. Gastien turned so that he faced the wall. The doctor covered him with some spare blankets. Gastien stayed in that position the rest of the night. When morning came, the doctor found him still laying there in the same position. He decided to let him sleep.

  Gastien was not sleeping. He was just staring at the wall. He did not want to move or think. In fact, he did not much care if he even kept existing. About noon, the doctor came in again. Concerned, he put a hand on Gastien’s shoulder to turn him. Gastien stiffened up, refusing to turn.

  “Monsieur, you must wake up,” the doctor said gently. “At least let me give you some lunch. You need to eat to keep your strength.” Gastien did not respond. Sighing, the doctor left the room, coming back shortly with a tray of food. “I will set this food on the table here by the bed. I am hoping you will eat at least some of it.” When the doctor came back an hour later, the food had not been touched. But, at last Gastien spoke.

  “I will be gone from here by half past three, I promise. I need to be at work four o’clock.” His voice was strangely hollow, without any emotion.

  The doctor sat on the bed. “You have had a terrible shock. You should not be working, you should be taking care of yourself. If you tell me where you work, I will call your employer to explain the situation. You must eat, at least a little. After that, I will help you move on with life.”

  Gastien turned to look at the doctor. “Oh, really? Will you pay my rent on a new place to stay? Are you going to buy my food for me?”

  “Well, non, of course not,” replied the doctor, flustered. “I cannot do that. But I will help you plan.”

  Gastien laughed bitterly. “Plan, doctor? My plans so far have all ended up right back at the beginning. Your “planning” does not get me the money I will need to live. It seems to me that going to work makes a whole lot more sense than talking about plans. Plans get me nowhere!”

  “But you need to have a plan about where to go live, what you will need, that type of thing!”

  Gastien snorted. “Excuse me, doctor, but I had lived in the alleys for a few months before last year. What do you think you know about living that I don’t? I know how to read rental flyers. I know how to ask around. As far as what I will need, try this: I need everything, from something as simple as a bar of soap to a new easel. Or try this: I need a toothbrush, and I need a new fucking life. This one does not seem to be working out. Now, you may mean well, but I can’t just sit and plan. I don’t know where I will sleep tonight. I don’t know how I will clean up for work. Instead of sitting around, I need to go to work. After work, I will probably have to sleep in the back room of the restaurant until it is late enough in the morning to get a place to stay. Once that is done, I will buy what I can afford in order to live. Then, I imagine, I will buy something to eat. And so it goes. Not much planning needs to be done.”

  The doctor tried again. “But you are in shock! You need your rest! I think you should be watched – “

  Gastien got up. “Don’t worry about me, doctor. I will survive. If not, then I look forward to finally havin
g some peace. Merci for the bed last night. I appreciate it. I really do. But I am not your problem to solve.” With that he walked out of the room and out the door.

  XLIV

  He did end up going in to work early and talking to Maurice. Maurice was shocked with what had happened. He promised Gastien a place to sleep in his own home that night. “Gastien, please take the night off. You have had a terrible shock. You need to –“

  “Please don’t say plan. I have heard enough of that.”

  “Understood. I won’t. However, you need to just come to terms with where you are. I am going to spend a little time going through my contacts. I will give you a list of landlords that you can visit with to get a place lined up. Why don’t you eat something while I do that? I know you probably don’t have an appetite. Think of this, though. You need to keep your strength in order to get done what needs to be done. Will you agree to eat?”

  “Oui. I will do that. Merci for the night off.”

  “You will sleep in our guest room tonight. If you want to go there earlier, feel free. I will write down the address. Do you have money?”

  “I have some money in the bank. Enough to get some basics and a room, I hope.” His eyes filled with tears. “All of my art supplies are gone! My paintings, everything!” Finally, he started to sob. That is what hurt. His art and his means to create it were gone.

  Maurice sat down next to Gastien,, putting an arm around him. “Gastien, that is awful. I know that. But, listen. You have quite a few paintings up here, right? And, remember, you have brought quite a few here to store so that they could breathe properly while they dried, correct? Maybe you did not lose as much as you think as far as completed works. Did you remember that? I can see how you might not.”

  Gastien thought a moment. “You are right. A lot of my work is here. That, at least, is something. My early stuff was not much good anyway, except for my charcoal drawings.”

  “Well, that is a loss. History you may have wanted was lost, but not the talent. Maybe you can see a bright spot in what is left here at the restaurant.” Gastien nodded. Maurice continued. “Did you know your landlady well? I believe I had heard her name was Emma?”

  “Oui. She treated me like a son, Maurice. She was a good woman.”

  “I will find out for you when the memorial service is so that you can go. In the meantime, tell the cooks what you want to eat. I will get that landlord list ready for you.”

  Gastien ate, looking over the list. After thanking Maurice again, he headed out. He decided to just start at the top. When he got to the first place, he was shocked at the cost for a room. It was no bigger than what he had at Emma’s but five times the price! He decided to keep looking tomorrow.

  After spending the night in Maurice’s guest room, Gastien started out bright and early. By mid-day, he knew that he would be paying much more than he had been. That was going to be an issue. Emma had been really undercharging. He had enough in the bank for the first month. He would need what money was left after that for other things. He would possibly need to buy furniture, because many did not come furnished.

  All of them were shabby. It was as if the landlord’s figured that they did not need to keep things up, because a renter really had no choice in the matter. You either paid high prices for a pigsty or slept on the street. Looking at his options, he could go with a small, furnished room in a shithole or a large, unfurnished, filthy room without heat. None of them had running water. Since it was almost spring, he decided he would worry about heat next winter. For now, he wanted the large space so that he could paint.

  He went back to the landlord with the large place to pay the first month. The landlord treated Gastien like garbage. However, Gastien got his key, and that was all that mattered. The room was bare except for various empty bottles of booze, some filthy rags, and piles of droppings. He did not want to know what animal they were from. The smell of the place gagged him. He had no stove or fireplace and no source of water, except for a common room shared by six other renters. In it were two huge dirty washtubs for clothes and an area for personal body washing.

  Since he would have to pump water outside for washing anyway, he thought he would rather wash himself in his room. He would have to make do with the common washtubs for his clothes. There were roaches the size of his pointed finger in the common room, so he supposed they were throughout the building. He hoped that there were not rats. The privy stank so badly that he gagged. At least it was not overflowing. Staying clean was going to be a challenge.

  Another reason he choose unfurnished was because all of the places were so squalid that he was afraid he would get lice from any bed that was provided to him. He at least wanted his own bed. Gastien would not have lice again if he could help it.

  By the time he purchased a bed, nightstand and a chair, plus a mirror for shaving and a stand for a washbasin, then personal items, he was starting to worry. He still needed clothing. And art supplies. At least he had a job. He went back to the restaurant to see Maurice.

  “I would like to work tonight, Maurice, but I am filthy,” Gastien said, embarrassed. “Is there a way I can wash up here before I get into my uniform? The rental places are atrocious. Unless one wants to pay more than I make in two months, one lives in filth. I will need my next two days off just to clean, but at least I have a place now.”

  Maurice looked at Gastien. He was quite dusty and needed a shave. “How about if you take a uniform, go back to my house, and use our facilities. Tell my wife to draw you a bath. You have plenty of time before your shift. You will feel much better about yourself. How does that sound?”

  Gastien smiled at him tiredly. “It sounds wonderful! I would love a bath! It may be the last one for awhile, but I promise I will keep myself clean, shaved, and I will keep my hair trimmed. You will never be embarrassed to have me working here.”

  Maurice nodded. “I never questioned that, Gastien. I am sorry you are having a hard time. I could loan you some money if you wish.”

  Gastien shook his head. “Non, merci. I would just get behind. I don’t want to get behind with anyone, much less my boss. That is a quick way to end a relationship. I will make do.”

  Maurice understood. “I want to help, though. For now, let’s say for the next year anyway, I will let you eat one meal a day here on me. Not just soup, but a full meal. I don’t expect you to pick the most expensive items, but I would like you to have variety and a full stomach at least daily.”

  “Oh, Monsieur, non, you don’t have to do that. That is too much,” Gastien said firmly.

  “I insist. I am your boss, and that is an order!” Gastien looked uncomfortable. “Son, you are valuable to me. You bring in a lot of business with those big eyes. It is the least I can do. No argument!”

  “Merci beaucoup.”

  “Now, go grab a uniform and have a bath. You don’t want to be late for work on a Saturday night!”

  During the next two days, which were normal days off, Gastien cleaned his new room. He also bought clothes, and art supplies. By the time he got finished, he had nothing left in the bank or in his pocket. The room still looked poor and deteriorating. It would be very cold without heat next winter. The bright spot was that at least it did not stink anymore. He bought rat traps, which he loaded, just in case. The roaches he had to live with. Since he would not have food in the room, perhaps they would move to another area.

  As the weeks went by, Gastien found that he could not save any money at all. The cost of rent each month, along with incidentals, took everything he had. He seldom went out with friends. To get by, he only ate the one meal a day Maurice provided at the restaurant, except for coffee. He got thinner than he wanted again, and his cheekbones stood out, but he was not nearly as thin as a year ago.

  It was a major hurdle every day, bringing water he had pumped up several flights of steps, just to clean up. There was no way to heat the icy water. Washing his whole body in cold water was pure misery. He had to spit in a cup and later rinse that
at the pump, every time he brushed his teeth. Gastien was living dirt poor again, just steps away from the level of a street person.

  Although he worked, the landlords of Paris saw to it that renters had very little left after paying for the “privilege” to live among roaches and rats. He also knew that without saving, should he ever lose his job, he would be back in the alleys digging through garbage. What little money he had he used to keep himself up. It was mandatory that he was clean and neat at work. He needed customers to like him in order to make a living. They had no idea that most times he was hungry, and that all of the time he was struggling to even find a way to use a privy without sitting in piss or standing in it.

  It was obvious to Gastien now that he would never find a way to have his own studio. Some of his paintings did sell, but what he made from that a real estate agent could wipe his ass on. The prices were so high that only the very wealthy could buy property in Paris now. Hope to even lease a decent studio was starting to dim.

  Gastien started getting a few contracts painting at people’s homes. The money from that he put into his bank box, along with the money from paintings sold. That gave him money for clothes, a rare night of fun, but would never amount to enough to change his lifestyle. He would have been a little better off if he gave up painting, for supplies were expensive. But then he would be a career waiter. That was not who he was. The only answer was to continue to paint, living from day to day.

  The nightmares started shortly after moving into this new room. At first, they were only slightly disturbing. He was always fine once he woke up, usually being able to go back to sleep. As the months passed, though, they would increase in frequency and intensity. They were nightmares about living on the streets, because that was his greatest fear. Since he was now only a heartbeat away from that life again, his subconscious mind brought that fear to the forefront when he entered the dream state.

  One thing that had not changed was the fact that women were attracted to him. He still found that the wives and daughters of the wealthy patrons of Le Procope were pursuing him. They continued to be very creative at finding ways to be with him for a rendezvous. Gastien was always happy to oblige, because it often meant some time at a home where things were clean. He usually found a way to work a bath into the tryst, because that meant that he could get cleaned up in warm water.