It had been told to him often enough that he had nothing to offer outside of working the farm, and he was damn poor at that. He often felt like an imposter when anyone praised him. In the back of his mind, he was always waiting for people to find out how unlovable he was, and how undesirable it was to even be associated with him.
The fear of stink on him had not gone away, either. It had, in fact, grown over the years. He was sure that most times, if people stopped to really notice, they could smell the musk of sex all over him. He wondered why people did not comment on it or move away from him. When someone told him he smelled good, it felt like they were being sarcastic. He had to force himself not to react negatively.
The only people he did not feel this way around were Sophie and his son (yet he feared his son would sooner or later be repulsed by him), Mic, Cassie, and Vic. He even thought Father Fournier and Dr. Morel would not care for him if they knew everything about him. He knew it was not logical, but it ate at him just the same.
He would have loved to feel normal and trust people, but by now he knew it just was not going to ever happen, except with Sophie and Mic. Even with them, he could never come out and discuss the things that happened to him in Jean Luc’s den. Mic might know, but never would he give voice to the details. If Sophie ever found out about Jean Luc and the other men, she would finally know that he was not someone to be proud of or attach herself to. She would be ashamed of him.
That worried him greatly, always playing in the back of his mind. What if those men came back? Everything with Sophie and his son would end. Sophie would never want to see him again. His son would want to die of shame.
He looked at Sophie sadly. “You may be right. I wish I could say differently, and I wish I could change. But I cannot. I do my best. I told you I would not be a good mate for anyone.”
Sophie stroked his face. “Gastien, I know you do your best to love. That is enough for me, because for some reason I understand you. I am so glad you have given what you can to me. I am not asking for more. I am simply saying that I don’t think Tristan Michel will have the same issues.”
“I hope not. I hope he is able to love better. I just don’t have it in me. It hurts too much!” he admitted.
She kissed him tenderly. “I know. Gastien, I know.”
They sat in silence a few minutes and then he asked, “What will happen when Tristan Michel is old enough to realize what I do with other women and how unusual our relationship is?”
Sophie answered soberly, “I don’t know. He is very traditional. I don’t think it will make him very happy with you. Let’s hope he has a big enough heart to understand at some point. Still, you are very likely to have a stormy relationship for awhile when he realizes certain things. You made your choices, based on what you could do and still live. Tristan Michel will have to do the same.”
“I only hope in time he forgives me and understands, once that day comes.”
“So do I, darling. So do I. For now, all you can do is show him love in any way you know how. Life is not perfect for anyone.”
Gastien shuddered. He did not want his son to be disgusted with him, but it may come to that.
“Well,” he said resolutely, “let’s not start him being angry at me already! Let’s go get him and have a nice family dinner tonight. Shall we let him pick where he wants to eat?”
“That is fine. Right now, he thinks you are quite wonderful, most of the time. It hurts him that you don’t pay more attention.”
Gastien hung his head. “I know. I just don’t know what to do with him!”
“Just be there and listen. Don’t make it so hard!”
“But I must paint, Sophie! You know that. It eats at me all of the time, and he goes on and on about things that don’t interest me.”
“But they interest him! I guess you must make a choice and live with the consequences, Gastien. You have to decide what makes you happiest. That is what we all have to decide.”
“You are not making this any easier,” he accused.
“I can’t, nor do I want to. Your choices have not been easy for me, either. I will live with them and love you, but I can’t protect you from the results of those choices. You have to face those, like we all have to. I am sorry. Je t’aime, but you and I will both have to face whatever results there are from choices you have made. That is just a fact.”
She kissed him. “Let’s have a nice evening, Gastien. Who knows? Tristan Michel may always think you are wonderful. I sincerely hope so.”
Gastien smiled sadly. Somehow, he knew that was probably not going to be the case.
III
While the three of them were at dinner, Gastien surprised Tristan Michel by asking him, “Are you busy one week from Saturday?”
Tristan Michel stopped chewing and looked at his father in surprise. His father had never asked him something like that! Did that actually mean he might want to spend time alone with him? He swallowed his food and tried to keep excitement from his voice, in case he was wrong.
“Non, I don’t think so. Why, Father?”
“Well, I was thinking maybe we could spend the afternoon together, just us two hommes. If you are not busy, I would enjoy that very much,” said Gastien, smiling.
I have no clue what to do with him, he thought to himself.
“I would love that, Father!” Tristan Michel crowed enthusiastically, forgetting his vow to remain calm.
His father wanted to be with him! He could not believe his ears!
Then he sobered up. “We aren’t going to some old art museum again, are we?” he asked.
Gastien laughed. So his son was as unsure as he was on what to expect! He remembered Sophie saying not to make it so difficult.
“Non! I promise, no art. I was thinking that you should pick what we will do. What do you think?”
Gastien glanced at Sophie, who smiled tenderly and nodded her head discreetly. She was so proud of Gastien for reaching out! Perhaps he was going to become more involved in Tristan Michel’s life. She knew how badly their son needed his father.
“Really?” asked Tristan Michel “That is great! Let me think.” He sat and pondered a few minutes.
“You don’t have to decide right now. You can always let me know before that day, so that I know what to expect; or perhaps you would like to surprise me,” said Gastien.
“Non, you know what? The circus is introducing all new acts that weekend! I would really like to go to that with you. Can we? Is it too expensive?”
Gastien nodded seriously. “I think that will be fine! We should have a nice time. It is not too expensive. I will get the tickets ahead of time, so that we have good seats. How about if I pick you up that day around eleven? We will have some lunch and then walk around, looking at the animals before the show starts. Would you enjoy that?”
“OUI!!!!” yelled Tristan Michel. Then he looked around, embarrassed. “I am sorry, Mother. I did not mean to be so loud here at the restaurant.”
“I understand, Son. This is an exciting outing you two are planning! I am happy for you both,” Sophie said.
The next day and Thursday morning that was all Tristan Michel could talk about. He was thrilled that in a little over a week he and his father would be spending the day together alone. He would wear his best clothes and make sure he did nothing to upset his father. He did not want this to be a onetime occurrence.
The week flew by. Gastien assured his son that he had the tickets when Sophie and the boy arrived on Tuesday. They were not going to stay until Thursday morning this week. Sophie needed to be at Odette’s Wednesday night for a family function that Gastien had not been invited to. Instead, the three of them said goodbye at nine o’clock on Wednesday morning.
IV
Now Gastien had an extra day for painting! He could feel his mistress once again calling. What a perfect way to spend today through Thursday, becoming one with the color! Gastien found that his mistress called on him to give himself totally to her at least every othe
r month now. It was more frequent than before, but he was always a willing participant.
Gathering everything he would need, he set about readying himself for the merging. By ten o’clock he was at his easel, eyes closed, answering the call. As his breathing once again slowed, he felt his mistress slide her hands down his body, caress his face, and kiss him. Soon he could feel her hands reaching deep into his body, clear through to his soul. As she enfolded herself with his spirit, he felt himself dissolving. Finally, they were one again.
Gastien began to paint.
This time she took him on the wildest ride yet. She took him to the birthplace of creation. Upon her command, he consumed a large amount of absinthe over the hours, along with the eating of hash. As he became higher, she allowed him to see more.
At last, he arrived at the center of the beginning of creation. The pure energy that was exploding from the depths was fearsome in its intensity. He remembered vaguely wondering if, instead, he was viewing the center of hell. To behold this bright purity of color with the naked eye would be blinding. He was thankful that this journey she took him on was cerebral.
Picking up a fistful of the molten energy, she turned to him. It dripped thickly from her hand. Every color in existence was contained there. It pulsated with life and the desire to form new creation. He was outside of himself, watching his body standing there as she approached. Smiling into his eyes, she kissed him deeply, her tongue sliding down his throat to his heart.
When he pulled back, gasping for air, she covered his mouth with the hand that held the energy, allowing it to pour into him down his throat to his center. He screamed in his mind from the searing heat. It burned fiercely as it touched his tender insides. Yet, at the same time, it cleansed and healed.
He realized that he was being baptized. From now on, he would see things differently than he had ever been granted before. His eyes searched hers for answers, afraid that he was not strong enough to carry the weight of this new gift. She simply smiled, crossing him head to toe, side to side, back to front. Then he heard her speak.
“Creation above you, creation below; creation behind you, creation ahead. Creation on your left side, creation on your right; creation inside of you, creation without.”
She forced him to his knees, pouring more blistering energy over his head.
“Gastien Beauchamp, I thee baptize into the energy of creation. You are now truly one with the color. Your hands will be under service for the rest of your days. You will use it and be used by it. It has created you and now you will create it for others. Show the world, Gastien. Show them it is all about the color. It is your calling; your destiny. Show them the energy of the color, for that energy is what creation is.”
As he stood, he knew that the world would never look quite the same to him again. There would be the ability to see things close to normally when not painting, but that ability would leave now whenever he picked up a paint brush. His talent no longer belonged to him, if it ever had. He would now be painting the message. Regardless of if people understood the message, he would be the vessel.
For the first time in his life, he was scared of what was asked of him by his mistress. He knew it would not be easy. The work –and because of the work, he himself – would be misunderstood. Gastien wondered if he would ever be able to come close to living up to what his mistress had finally asked of him.
Then, she came forward and her face lit up with the most beatific smile he had ever seen. As she held his face in her hands he felt her say (for her lips did not move):
“Do not be afraid, my darling. It was always you; you, and others chosen. This is what you were made for. You cannot disappoint, because it is your essence. Just relax. Let it speak through you. It does not matter if the message falls on deaf ears. The only thing that matters is that the message is spoken through your work. Once you create the work, the energy has validated itself. Do not worry about anything but creating. When you are finished, you will find yourself coming home to peace.”
Unsure, he asked, “How will I know when I am finished?”
“That choice won’t be yours. It never is. When you are finished, you will be called home. Now paint!”
“But – “
“Gastien! Just paint!”
The work he did was an explosion of color. Bright, searing color that shimmered on the canvas, bursting forth from between thighs, from the centers of unearthly flowers, showering down from stars; for all of these places are where creation comes from. There were nine paintings in all. Five of them were only the colors and held no tie to objects at all. His mistress would be right in that they would not be understood. She would also be right in that, just by being painted, they paid tribute to the force that makes everything that has ever been in existence. This force has no ego. Therefore, it does not care if people appreciate or understand. It simply cannot be denied.
The next time that Gastien even realized he existed it was dark outside. He was hungry, but so exhausted that – once again – he fell into bed fully clothed. He left a mess of paints, dirty brushes, empty absinthe and whiskey bottles, a little leftover hash, and a chamber pot that was full.
Gastien was incapable of even thinking straight. He was pushed to the limit of his exhaustion. There was no drifting into sleep. It was as if someone punched him full in the face and he was gone. When he woke up fifteen hours later, it appeared to be about mid-day. He must have painted all day Wednesday and Thursday, until late Thursday night!
V
Gastien knew he needed to eat immediately. He walked next door to Cassie and Vic’s. Cassie was happy to see that Gastien was back in the real world.
“Welcome back, Gastien! You need to clean up. Go get in the tub, I will bring you some food. You look like hell.”
Pulling some money out, he handed it to Cassie. “Merci, Cassie. I appreciate you getting the food, even if you do feel the need to tell me I look like hell. I don’t know if I need a shave or a bath worse.”
Cassie wrinkled her nose. “Both.”
Gastien immediately got water ready on the stove. Finally it was ready. He poured it into the tub and climbed in. As the hot water worked on his muscles, he grabbed his straight edge razor. When he saw how badly his hand shook, he decided to wait until after he had eaten to shave.
He was famished! How nice of Cassie to get food for him again. As he washed his hair, Cassie came in and dropped off his food on the table he had pulled over by the tub.
“Merci beaucoup, Cassie. You are really good to me.”
“And you are really good to us, Gastien. You do a lot of things for us around the shop and home, so it works both ways.” She paused, smiling. Splashing him, she teased, “You look better already! If I was not a lesbian, I would be tempted to get in the tub with you right now.”
“At least wait until I shave!” he teased back. “By the way, what time is it?” he asked.
“About four.”
“I hope it is nice tomorrow. I have tickets for Tristan Michel to go with me to the circus.”
“I thought you always spent Sunday at their house. Are they letting the two of you out?” she joked.
Gastien froze with a forkful of food on the way to his mouth. A sense of foreboding crawled up his spine.
“Cassie, what do you mean by that?” he whispered.
“Simply that tomorrow being Sunday, I had thought you and Tristan Michel might be tied up in one of those family dinners you love so much. It is the first Sunday of the month tomorrow. That is when they usually occur.” She looked at him, puzzled.
“Mon Dieu! Oh please, God non! Please, please don’t tell me this is Saturday. Please! Please, God! Non!” Gastien closed his eyes, begging it not to be true.
“Well, oui it is Saturday. Don’t you even know what day it is?”
“NON! Non, it can’t be Saturday! Oh, God, Cassie, I – “ he pushed the plate away. “I have to go! I have to get to Tristan Michel!” He quickly stood.
“Gastien, what
is wrong?” Cassie said fearfully.
“I was supposed to take him to the circus today! Today was going to be a really special day for us! It is all he has talked about for the past week, Sophie said. Oh, dear God…how did I disappear since Wednesday morning? How did that be allowed to happen? My mistress knew! She knew I had plans! How did she let this happen? Why wouldn’t she send me back? I need to – “ he was furiously scrubbing himself and reaching for the towel.
“Gastien, stop!” Cassie grabbed his hand. “Stop. First of all, you are late already. Take the time to shave, so that you don’t scare your son half to death. Here, I will shave you. Sit back. You are too worked up, you will cut yourself.”
She soaped his face and proceeded to shave him.
“How do you know how to shave a man?”
“I used to love to shave my father.”
Gastien started to cry. “Why must I be such a failure at the simplest of things? This is so unfair. I answered the call of my mistress; that is all. Why couldn’t she make sure I was back in time?”
“Gastien, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“The color! I answered the call of the color! That is my mistress. But I had no idea I would not be brought back in time. This is so unfair!”
“Gastien, whatever “call” you answer, I don’t think that entity deals in real time. You should have known better! You should have made sure something like this did not happen.”
“I could not refuse. She had been calling me for several days and finally I could no longer fight it. Oh, damn it, I KNEW I would fail with Sophie, and with Tristan Michel, too! I just can’t be counted on for anything but my art!” Gastien was sobbing now, and toweling off. “How will I explain? Oh mon Dieu, what do I say to a ten-year-old about not knowing where I am for three days?”
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