Gastien wiped at his face. “That sounds great! I have not smoked in ages, a cigarette and a whiskey would be fine.”
Jean Luc poured and they lit up. After they were done smoking, they downed their drinks. Jean Luc got up to leave. “Good night, my Son. I hope you sleep well.”
“Merci, Jean Luc. You are so good to me.”
“You are welcome. Who knows? Someday I might be in need and you can return the favor. I will see you tomorrow.”
Gastien went to bed and fell asleep, thinking that he must be the luckiest person in the world to have ended up where he was.
VII
Noël was a jovial affair and, as usual, the cook outdid himself. Gastien thought he might need larger trousers by the next day. The same type of fine dining occurred on New Year's Day. That day, presents were exchanged. Gastien gave both daughters diaries. He gave Annah a pretty card holder for her calling cards. For Jean Luc, he brought a fine sherry that Maurice sold him, telling him, “This is just for you, not to be shared with me during our conversations. I want you to enjoy all of it.”
The family gave Gastien a lovely set of cashmere gloves and a matching muffler. They would come in handy during the cold winter months. Gastien was very pleased. They then ate dessert and talked about the upcoming year.
Soon Gastien felt it was time to go back to the cottage. “Happy New Year and merci beaucoup! I had a wonderful time today,” exclaimed Gastien.
They all wished him the same, then Jean Luc said, “I will walk back to the cottage with you, Gastien. I am so full I need some exercise or I won’t sleep. The food will sit like a rock in my stomach!
When they got to the cottage, Jean Luc brought out another gift from under his coat. “Here is something for you just from me, Gastien. I thought of you right away when I saw it. I hope it does not make you uncomfortable. I do not mean to be inappropriate,” he said warmly.
Gastien waved Jean Luc inside. “Come in, it is cold out there! Another gift? You have spoiled me way too much already! I am not going to want to ever leave!” laughed Gastien.
Jean Luc hesitated. “Well, that would not be so bad either. I would not mind you staying on permanently, painting our family milestones and various things. Since I do think of you as a son, I will hate to ever see you go.”
“But I must go, of course. Even sons have to,” said Gastien. “I really love it here, Jean Luc. I appreciate all you are doing for me, but my dream is to paint in Montmartre. Every artist has paintings of their own that cry to get on canvas.”
“Of course. That is understandable. I am just being sentimental because of the holiday, I guess!” Jean Luc joked. “Go on! Open your gift.”
Gastien ripped off the pretty paper and opened the box. Inside was an exquisite smoking jacket made out of fine satin. The jacket was imported from the Orient, colored in shades of reds and gold’s.
“Oh! Jean Luc, this is very beautiful! It must have cost a fortune. This is no small gift!”
“As you know, I am not lacking for money. I did not even consider the price, Gastien. I just knew it would look good on you and bought it. All gentlemen have a long smoking jacket to lounge in. So should you. You will not believe how wonderful satin feels against your skin.”
Gastien immediately thought of Nath and her sheets. I know, he thought. Believe me, I know.
Jean Luc smiled. “It is late. You can wear it tomorrow night after dinner, if you wish. There is no need to try it on now. Tomorrow you will have the fire going all day and it will be toasty in here, suitable for satin. For now, I will wish you a good night’s sleep.”
“Merci, Jean Luc. I am sure I will enjoy the gift.”
Jean Luc started to leave. Suddenly, he reached out to touch Gastien’s hair. Gastien jumped, startled.
“Gastien, I have noticed your hair is getting quite long. It is almost to your shoulders. Is there a reason you are wearing your hair so long?”
“My reason is simply that I want to stand out as unique. Women seem to like my hair more and more as it grows. Besides, a lot of artists have long hair. Mine will just end up being a little longer,” he replied, trying not to sound defensive.
Jean Luc took his hand away. “That makes sense. I just noticed that you could use a trim. I will send my barber this week to shape it for you.”
“There is no need. I have a barber I see regularly.”
“Please forgive me. I guess your hair is just unusual. It looks good on you, though, the ladies are right. Sleep well.” Jean Luc turned and left.
Gastien shut the door and stood there a moment, puzzled. Odd. He had just been to Laurent two weeks ago. Gastien sighed. Ah, well. Jean Luc meant well. He was probably not used to artists and their quirky styles. He hung up the smoking jacket and prepared for bed. Contentedly, he crawled under the covers.
After consulting with Jean Luc and Annah the next day, it was determined that Annah would wait until spring for her sittings. She wanted to be painted in spring colors, so she would wait until the new spring fashions came out. That meant Jean Luc would be next. This would take longer, because Jean Luc could not sit for full days, as he had to spend at least part of his days running his business affairs. It was decided that he would take care of business in the mornings and make himself available afternoons. This was fine with Gastien, because he would be able to paint his own things during the mornings. It would take four months to get Jean Luc’s portrait done, bringing them through April.
Soon, mornings were spent with Gastien painting some more of his favorite paintings: the exploration of color, shape and texture. His paintings were unlike anything being done anywhere. He did not show them to the family. He knew that most people would not care for what he was doing. That did not concern him. This was for his own satisfaction, not someone else’s.
Those paintings were breathtaking. Color came alive in a new way, and shapes seemed to move, drawing you into the painting. These bizarre paintings were intense, and some were very disturbing. They would never be paintings for the timid. Eventually Gastien would push it further, but for now, he still painted things in shapes you could recognize. It was the color and texture that set them apart. He made the eye see things in a new way, forced the brain to stretch its imagination.
Afternoons went smoothly, with Gastien and Jean Luc talking quite a bit. Jean Luc drew Gastien out more each day. Soon Gastien was telling Jean Luc the rest of his story. As January and February went by, Jean Luc learned about his arrival in Paris, his time on the streets, meeting Mic, Nath, everything. It felt good to have someone to confide in again face to face, instead of just writing to Nath. Gastien finally understood what it felt like to have a real father.
Jean Luc also shared a lot about his work, and about his travels. He gave Gastien business advice, talking about various banks and pieces of commercial real estate that he owned. Once they parted for dinner, Gastien many times would not see him again until the next afternoon because he had family obligations or business dinners to attend. At least four times a week, though, Jean Luc would end up back at the cottage after dinner. He and Gastien would sit and talk or play chess, which Jean Luc taught Gastien. Jean Luc found Gastien an avid student of the board game.
Jean Luc had been surprised when Gastien did not have on the satin smoking jacket the evening after New Year’s Eve. He asked him if he did not like it, saying he would not be offended and could exchange it for something else. Gastien said he did like it and would wear it, but did not feel it was appropriate to wear when someone was in the cottage with him.
“Nonsense!” assured Jean Luc. “We are like family. It is your home! If a man cannot relax in his own home at night there is something wrong! Please feel free to wear it regardless of if I am here or not.”
Gastien did not, though. He just did not feel comfortable. Jean Luc did not mention it again.
VIII
One night in early March, they were sitting in front of the fire. Turing to him, Jean Luc asked, “Gastien, you have told me
your life story, but not your fears and dreams. Surely a young man like you has both. Perhaps sharing those with an older man will help. I could possibly give you some ideas.”
Gastien hesitated. Should he tell Jean Luc about the nightmares? He did not know what solution anyone could come up with, but perhaps talking about it with someone else would help make it not so real.
“Well, I do have this horrible fear of ending up back on the streets. I started having a nightmare about it back when I rented my last room in Paris. It was such an awful room, with the roaches and rats, that I felt at times I was only a heartbeat away from living back on the streets of Paris. Soon I would have been, quite possibly.”
Jean Luc said quietly, “Tell me about the dream.”
Gastien shuddered. “It is no dream. It is pure nightmare. The same scenario is involved. I used to have it about once a month. Lately, it has increased in frequency and intensity. I am now a prisoner to it at least once a week.” He stopped and stared into the fire.
Finally he started talking again. “It is so real. I can smell the garbage. I can smell my stink. My stomach aches with hunger. There are reeking bins of garbage with rats crawling all over them. I am so hungry that I dig through one anyway. I find some food that a rat has gnawed on, but I don’t care. I have to eat. I eat the food, and almost as soon as I am finished, I vomit it up. I then kneel down to eat the vomit, because without something in my stomach, I am once again at the point where I will die. As I am eating it, a rat bites into my leg. IN SECONDS, THERE ARE RATS COMING FROM ALL OVER AND THEY ARE ATTACKING ME! I AM BEING EATEN ALIVE!” Gastien stopped, embarrassed with how loud and urgent his voice had become.
He swallowed. “I don’t think anyone can understand the fear of that particular hell unless they have experienced living on those streets. I know I could not survive it a second time. I was unusually lucky to make it the first. That kind of hunger, that kind of cold clear into your bones, the constant fear of someone brutally taking your life just to own your ragged blanket….it is something I ….” he stopped.
Jean Luc spoke. “Gastien, look at me.” Gastien looked over to Jean Luc. “You are safe now. You will have money for a while to get on your feet. Or, you can stay here. You know that. You are loved here. We would welcome your staying full time.”
“Non, I could not do that. I have my own dreams. That is the problem! If I wanted just to be safe, I would be working full time somewhere. I thank you for wanting me and loving me, but I need to see my dream through. It is just that in the back of my mind I am so very worried about the future. Money only lasts so long, unless I find enough clients to make a good amount of regular money.”
Jean Luc leaned forward. “You speak of following your dreams, Gastien. I know you want to go to Montmartre. But, once you get there, where does your dream take you? Does it simply stop once you arrive?”
Gastien smiled. “Non, of course not.”
“Well, what then? What dream do you have that is driving you so?”
“My own studio,” Gastien said. “A studio that is large enough to also be my home, full of light, and full of warmth at night.”
“Your own? You mean, not rented?” Jean Luc inquired, looking surprised.
Gastien laughed self consciously. “Well, you said my most heartfelt dream. I realize that I will never be able to afford that, but there it is. It eats me up inside! I want it so badly, and have no way to get it! I would do anything to own my own studio, but even in Montmartre, it will be out of my reach.”
“Even to rent a space that is large enough to really have a home and studio will be expensive, because you will need quite a bit of storage space if you are going to paint large paintings. Although not as awfully expensive as it would be in Paris, I guess,” said Jean Luc.
“True. I would be thrilled to just rent in Montmartre and live without fear of hunger or losing my studio when the rent went up. Artists are always hand to mouth. I have to tell you that eating garbage is not something I want to have to do again. I would be wishing for my own studio, regardless. It is something I will have to come to terms with, though I don’t know how I can. My brain feels like it will explode from trying to either figure out how to accomplish this dream or be at peace without achieving it.”
“Well, you will be set for awhile after leaving here, won’t you?” inquired Jean Luc.
“Oui, I will have enough to go to Montmartre, but it will still be a struggle. I will not only have a large room, I will be able to eat for at least a year.” He stopped. “I am not ungrateful, you are paying me well. You asked me my dreams, and I am afraid I got carried away.”
“That is quite alright. I understand. All men have dreams! Let me tell you, all men also have a price they would pay to see those dreams come true,” mused Jean Luc.
“A price?” laughed Gastien bitterly. “I think I would give my soul to own a studio!”
Jean Luc looked at him for a long minute. “Well, hopefully it won’t come to that. Let’s have another drink, and talk of lighter things now. I don’t want you having that nightmare again tonight.” The subject was changed and not brought up again that night.
IX
However, every day Jean Luc got Gastien talking about how badly he wanted to go to Montmartre. It was clear how desperately he wanted to be able to lease a large space, additionally being able to live without fear of future homelessness. Every night that Jean Luc visited, the subject would be brought up.
One night Jean Luc said, “Gastien do you really think you might end up on the streets again? Won’t you be able to paint enough portraits to stay off the streets in Montmartre?”
“I don’t know, Jean Luc. I hope so, but I will be new there. I don’t know how many people will care enough about me to come to Montmartre to have portraits done. Sometimes I stay awake at night worrying about that, and other nights I stay awake afraid I won’t take the chance!” He laughed self consciously.
Jean Luc moved closer to Gastien on the couch. He appeared to be in deep thought. “I think I can help you make sure that you will have enough money to rent as large of a studio that you are imagining, plus live decently for a couple of years. That would build your reputation, would it not? I could also send people to you, of course. That is, if you are interested.”
Gastien looked at him with hope. “Interested? Of course I am interested! I would give anything to have that security and to be on my own in a studio! But what do you propose? I don’t want a loan. They are too hard to pay back.”
Jean Luc moved closer. “Non! I am not talking about a loan. You are right, they are difficult to pay back. I am talking about a business proposition. You give me something I want, and I will help you get what you want.”
Gastien sniffed. “What could I possibly have that you would want? You have everything.”
Jean Luc smiled. He said softly, “Here is what I will do for you.” Jean Luc told him how much more money he would give Gastien per week for the rest of the months he was in the cottage, which was a very high sum of money. It would set Gastien up to live without fear for a good two years. He also promised to send at least one person a month to him during those two years.
Gastien was stunned with that amount of money. That amount of money plus the money he was being paid would almost guarantee him success! Not ownership of a studio, but still…to know he would not have to think about being on the streets again? Surely this man was not that generous! “But, again, even if you were to be that generous, what do you want that I could possibly have to give you?”
Jean Luc reached out, and slowly trailed a finger across the outline of Gastien’s perfect lips. “Oh, that is simple, Gastien. I want you.” Finally! At last the heartbreakingly handsome Gastien would be his!
Gastien looked at him dumbly. “What??? What do you mean, you want me?”
Jean Luc cupped Gastien’s face with his hands. “Look at me, Gastien.” Gastien looked innocently into his eyes. “I want to feel your beautiful mouth all over my bo
dy. That is what I mean. I want you more than I have ever wanted anything. I love you, Gastien,” Jean Luc said hoarsely. He leaned forward to kiss Gastien’s mouth.
Gastien jerked backwards. “NON!” he yelled. Jean Luc pulled back, startled. Gastien struggled to get up, but Jean Luc held him against the back of the couch. “LET ME UP, LET ME UP, OH MON DIEU, LET – “
“Stop panicking Gastien! I am not going to force you,” Jean Luc said calmly. He kept his grip on the young man, just the same. Gastien’s eyes were wild and full of fear. Jean Luc did not want Gastien doing something foolish that would end up with one of them injured.
“GET OFF OF ME! LET ME GO!” Gastien caught his breath. “JEAN LUC, I BEG YOU! LET ME GO!”
“I will let you go, if you promise to sit here and listen to me,” said Jean Luc quietly. “I am not going to hurt you or force you to do anything!”
Gastien sat staring into Jean Luc’s eyes, breathing hard. When he realized that Jean Luc was doing nothing, except holding him against the sofa, he slowly got a grip on his fear. His eyes did not look so wild and his breathing evened out. Now his face flamed bright red. “Why in the world would you think I am homosexual? What is wrong with me that you would assume that?”
Jean Luc loosened his grip but kept holding on to Gastien. “Gastien, there is no indication at all that you are homosexual. It is not about you giving me signals. It is about me finding you immensely attractive. Surely you know that many, many people find you attractive.”
“Oui! Women! Not men!” spat Gastien. A moment later, he continued, “Please let me go now. I won’t run.”
Jean Luc let go. “Let’s talk sensibly. Regardless of if you know it or not, I am sure there have been many men attracted to you. You are very masculine, but also very beautiful. There is no getting around it. Men notice as well as women. You need to understand that.”
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