From Dream to Destiny Page 28

  “Good. Because Lord knows I am for you.”

  The girl at the table asked one of Gastien’s amis. “Are they newlyweds or something? They sure act like it.”

  “Non. They have a six-year-old son.”

  She laughed. “Well, they may have another on the way after tonight.”

  Sophie and Gastien never did have another child. It was not for lack of sex. They always wondered why. Then again, they both realized that Tristan Michel’s birth had been very hard on Sophie. Perhaps something had happened. Gastien was just as happy that no more babies arrived. One child was enough to deal with, even on a part time basis.

  Cause and Effect

  I

  Gastien was now thirty-four and his son was ten years old. He was an intelligent boy, but much different from Gastien in that he liked tradition and family. Tristan Michel was always trying to talk to his father about history and science. These were things that Gastien did not find all that interesting. When the situation was reversed, and Gastien tried to interest his son in painting, it also was a dismal flop. His son simply had no desire to create with color. Gastien was beginning to wonder if the boy would ever have any creativity at all.

  Tristan Michel was old enough now that, when he wanted to, he could come to where his mother worked after school. They would sometimes stop by Gastien’s and eat dinner with him. Other times the two of them would just walk home together, depending on the weather and their mood.

  A few times Tristan Michel had tried to stop and see his father first, before going over to Sophie’s place of employment. He always hoped that his father would have time to just sit and listen to him. He would arrive bursting to talk about what he had learned that day in school, or about what the kids at school were up to, general things that little boys want to talk about.

  However, Gastien was always immersed in a painting. His father would either tell him to go see his mother because he was too busy at the moment, or he would just pretend to listen for a few minutes. When Gastien pretended to listen, he would be so short in his responses, so obviously preoccupied, that the boy’s heart would sink; and he would struggle not to cry. He could not understand why his father could not be available to him for a short amount of time after school.

  One day, shortly after Tristan Michel’s tenth birthday, he stopped by again. He had gotten out early because the teacher was ill. He was excited. Perhaps this earlier time would be a more convenient time for his father. Tristan Michel had no idea what it meant when the shutters to the studio were pulled. In addition, Gastien had been in a hurry to get to the “project at hand”. Because of that, he did not remember to lock the door.

  Tristan Michel bounded through the door.

  “Surprise, Father, surprise!”

  His smile turned to puzzlement; then to shock. There was a woman kneeling in front of his father – and she was kissing his private part! Not exactly kissing it, he decided. She appeared to be swallowing it. His father was standing back on his heels, hips thrust forward; it looked like he was pushing the woman’s face closer. He was not being very nice to her at all!

  At the sound of Tristan Michel’s voice, Gastien’s eyes flew open. The woman quickly pulled her mouth from his bite. She was now frozen in horror and embarrassment at his feet. Gastien hastily stuffed his bite into his trousers, back turned from his son. His fingers would not work right, damn it. He struggled to get the buttons fastened properly.

  “Father?” asked Tristan Michel. “Father? What is happening?”

  He started to cry, because his father looked very angry as he turned toward his son.

  Gastien advanced toward him. Tristan Michel had never seen his father this way. He looked murderous.

  “Do not ever, EVER come into this studio when my shutters are closed! EVER! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” Gastien thundered.

  Tristan Michele just stood there speechless. His father never yelled at him.

  “I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? ANSWER ME!”

  In a small, hurt voice Tristan Michel asked, “But, why? Why can’t I come and see you just because the shutters are drawn?”

  “BECAUSE I SAID SO! THAT MEANS I WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE! WHY CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT MANY TIMES I JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE?” Gastien stormed. He was so upset with his son walking in that he did not think about his words.

  Tristan Michel’s heartfelt a stab of pain. “You are always too busy for me, Father!”

  Gastien realized he had been yelling and tried to lower his voice. “That’s not true! We spend time together.” He stopped, frustrated.

  Gastien then blurted out, “You don’t seem to want to do anything that I try to do with you! I don’t know what to do with you!”

  “I just want you to pay attention! I want to just be normal and talk to my father about my day!” cried Tristan Michel. “N-n-never mind. Y-you can’t understand anything but your stupid painting. I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, FATHER!”

  He stood there crying, ashamed to have his father see him bawling like a little child. And why was that woman still on the ground? What was she doing to his father, anyway?

  Gastien was stunned by how much it hurt to hear Tristan Michel say that he hated him. While logically he knew every child said that to their parents once or twice, it stung. He blinked back tears, swallowing hard.

  “Tristan Michel?” Gastien opened his arms. “Come here. I am sorry.”

  Tristan Michel just looked at him. “Y-y-you always say you are sorry! S-s-sorry you don’t have time right now. Sorry you have to take mother somewhere without me. Sorry you don’t know how to play games other fathers play! But you never fix it!”

  Now it was Gastien who felt ashamed. He moved toward his son.

  “You are right. I know I am not very good at being a father. But, truly, I do my best. I am just different, Tristan Michel. I am not like most people. But I do love you, regardless of what you may think right now. Je t’aime. In fact, very much.”

  Tristan Michel wiped his nose on his sleeve. Gastien opened his mouth to say something about that, and then he closed it again. Now was not the time to criticize or correct his boy.

  Suddenly Tristan Michel asked, “Father, why were you letting that woman taste your private part? Why would she want to do something like that?”

  Gastien blanched. How in the world was he supposed to explain this to a ten-year-old? Damn it, why had he not locked the door? He always remembered, ever since that day several years ago when Sophie had walked in. He sighed. Twice in eight years was human he guessed…but what does one say to their son when the boy walks in on fellatio?

  “Son, that is something private. It is nothing that is discussed with others. It is between the two people doing it.”

  “But, why would either of you even want to? You go pee out of that!”

  Gastien tried not to laugh. “I am well aware of that, Tristan Michel. It is something you will understand when you are older. Let’s leave it for now, please.”

  He looked helplessly at the woman.

  Tristan Michel thought about it a few minutes.

  Then he said fearfully, “Does Mother know you do that?”

  “Oui. Your mother knows that people do that.”

  Tristan Michel looked even sicker. “Does Mother do that to you, too?”

  The woman got up. “I think I will leave, Gastien. I will see you another time.”

  She broke a record for quick retreats, once she managed to overcome her embarrassment.

  Gastien looked at Tristan Michel. “Son, it is really important to me that you do not disturb me when my shutters are drawn. When they are shut I am busy with something that is none of your business, do you understand?”

  Tristan Michel stuck his lip out. “You did not answer me! I asked you if Mother did that, too. You don’t have to answer. I already know she would not. She would never do something like that, because you pee out of that. You were being naughty, Father! I am going to tell Mother, too, so that she knows that you are a naughty ma
n!” He turned to leave.

  Gastien hurried over and grabbed him gently.

  “Son, come here. Let’s sit down. If I tell you why I did it, will that make you feel better?”

  “Oui. I want to know what is wrong with you.”

  Gastien sat down with him and sighed. Wasn’t this a little early for a father to son talk? Then he remembered how badly he had wanted to ask his father questions, but was afraid to. He had actually thought he would be beaten if he told his father that his cock grew bigger and he wanted to do what the animals on the farm did, only with a girl. His father gave him some talk about whores and disease when he was fifteen, and that was it. Well, better early than late he guessed. He thought a minute and then cleared his throat.

  “Son, you are a little young to really understand. Since you walked in on this, I will try to explain simply. First of all, your mother knows. If you wish to tell her, you can, but she knows. Secondly, when boys turn into men, and girls turn into women, their bodies have certain needs. They want to get very close to each other and make each other feel good. Your private thing is not just for going to the toilet. It can make women very happy, once you are old enough. It also creates children. That is how you were made.”

  “By putting your private part in Mother’s mouth????” asked Tristan Michel, shocked.

  “Non! Non, of course not! Women have a private part, too. Our private part fits into theirs.”

  Tristan Michel narrowed his eyes at his father. “Are you telling the truth? I don’t believe you. That sounds awful.” He made a face like he wanted to be sick.

  Gastien chuckled and put his arm around his son, then ruffled his hair. “Well, that is because you are ten! As I told you, you are a bit young for this talk. But in a few years, you will start to have those feelings, too. And when you do, you can always ask me any questions you want about it. Don’t ever be embarrassed. It is a natural, wonderful part of life. In fact, it is one of the most wonderful things about life.”

  “But, Father, that still doesn’t explain why that woman – ”

  “Ah. Well, you know men and women kiss all gooey, right?”

  Tristan Michel shook his head oui and made a disgusted face.

  “Well, they kiss each other all over when they are alone. Again, it is normal and natural. Once you are older, you will want all kinds of kisses, too.”

  “Well, I will never kiss someone where they pee! And that woman was doing more than kissing.”

  Gastien nodded. “That she was.”

  “I want you to know that I will never do that! I will never do anything where someone touches or sees my private part! And if Mother let you do that it was only because she wanted me.”

  Gastien tried not to laugh. “Well, the choice will be yours when the time comes. I have a suspicion you may change your mind. Either way, Mother and I will love you. Now, how about if you and I go have a sweet at the café right down the street? I could use some time with my son talking about something more fun, like what you learned in school today.”

  “Really?” asked Tristan Michel suspiciously, “You won’t start thinking about painting?”

  “I promise I won’t! Not today. Today just seems like a day where fathers and sons should talk about other stuff. Let’s go.”

  II

  Later that day, since it was a Tuesday (which meant Sophie and Tristan Michel would be staying through as usual until Thursday), Gastien stopped by Cassie and Vic’s store to ask if Tristan Michel could stay there for a little while. They agreed, and Gastien hugged his son.

  “We will be back to get you shortly,” Gastien promised. “I think we will all go to dinner tonight and give your mother a break from cooking, how does that sound?”

  Tristan Michel was excited to be going to dinner with his parents, so he did not mind that he was being left behind for a little while.

  Gastien walked across the street and met Sophie as she was coming out the door of the floral shop.

  “Bonsoir, beautiful,” Gastien flirted. “How about showing a farm boy new to Montmartre a good time tonight?”

  Sophie looked him up and down. “Hmmm. I don’t know. You don’t look like a farm boy with that long hair. You look like a bohemian! I think you are trying to get me away somewhere dark, and have your way with me!”

  Gastien laughed knowingly. “You are not only good looking, but smart as well. Those are exactly my plans for later! However, I am going to take you, and this little boy I happened to run into, out to dinner first.”

  Sophie grinned appreciatively. “That would be wonderful! I could use a dinner out with the two males I love.”

  “I will expect to be repaid later when we are alone. I hope you will be prepared to do just that.”

  “Oh, I will pay you alright. There won’t be one spot on your body that has not been kissed or nibbled or stroked. That I promise.”

  “Well…in that case I will even order wine and a dessert for everyone.” They crossed the street. “Tristan Michel is at Cassie and Vic’s right now. I need to talk to you alone for a few minutes.”

  They entered the studio and Gastien sat down on a chaise.

  Sophie asked, “What is it? You look serious. Are you ill?”

  “Non, Sophi-belle. It is nothing bad. I just want you to be aware of something that happened today. Come, sit with me here on the chaise.”

  As they sat, he told her about Tristan Michel walking in on him and the resulting conversation. Sophie was not happy that Tristan Michel had witnessed what he had. She scolded Gastien for carelessly leaving the door unlocked.

  He agreed, but reminded her that he did not forget often. When he told her the part about Tristan Michel saying how awful he thought all of it was, and that he would never do it, she had to laugh along with Gastien.

  “Sophie, he was quite concerned about the fact that bites were for going pee. I was trying so hard not to laugh and hurt his feelings. But, honestly, I did not know what to do. He is young to be told the facts of life. I know that, but I felt it was time because of what he had witnessed. Plus, he kept asking. I remembered wishing I could talk to my father about sex, and always being afraid I would be beaten. Are you all right with what I told him?”

  “Well, if I am not, what can we do about it?” she asked. “I realize you had to say something. You could not just ignore his questions.”

  She thought a minute and sighed. “I will just have to talk to him about not sharing this new knowledge with amis at school. I will tell him it is a special privilege to know about this before you are a teenager, so he should not say anything. I will explain that he should let his amis learn from their parents. I think that will work. He is quite careful about not breaking confidences.”

  “Good idea. I have to tell you, this makes me feel ancient. I cannot believe that I just discussed sex with my own son! How did he get to be even ten so fast?”

  “I know what you mean. He asked me the other day why my chest had lumps on it like other women, and men’s did not.”

  “What did you tell him?” asked Gastien curiously.

  “I told him to ask his father because that is something fathers and sons discuss.”

  “Oh, merci! That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “Well, you get by with a lot, Gastien. You don’t have to do hardly any parenting at all. I draw the line at sex talk. I am sorry, darling, but you are going to handle all of that with your son; at least the explanations. I will probably need to give him guidelines about what to do with that information. You have different boundaries than I would like our son to have.”

  Gastien raised his brows.

  “Oh, come, now,” said Sophie. “You can’t really think that I hope our son is as free with sex as you are, can you? It will be his choice, but it will be much easier to find a wife if he attempts to be more mainstream.”

  “I understand. But, Sophie, you can’t control someone’s sexuality. If he inherits my sex drive, he will ignore your wishes. That I guarantee you.”
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  “True, if it is truly a drive that you were born with. I really think your need for all of this sex stems from your abuse as a child. You need to feel loved and share love, yet you are afraid to open up. I think you use sex as a substitute, never allowing yourself to really get what you crave: true validation of self, so you are never satisfied.”

  Gastien tensed up. He did not particularly like being analyzed.

  “Well, you certainly have become an expert of people’s motives. I congratulation you!” he retorted.

  Sophie just shrugged. “You want me to accept the fact that you are different from the vast majority of people, Gastien. I have done that as best as I can. But, surely, even you have to wonder why you keep feeling the need to fulfill yourself sexually. It is just never enough! There has to be an underlying reason; that is all I am saying.”

  “Certainly I don’t mean it as a criticism. I know you love me. You have opened yourself up to me more than you ever thought you could to another person, except for Mic. I just hope that Tristan Michel feels he is loved enough that it is safe for him to openly love without fear when the time comes. And love, as we both know, is not just sex.”

  Gastien was silent. Sophie made some very good points. Many nights in bed alone, he wished that he had the capacity to just trust that allowing his wife to be there with him would not turn into something that hurt him. He also knew that many times after sex with others, he felt empty and devalued.

  He knew very well that the women he had sex with did not care about him as a person, other than what he could do for them in bed; and maybe his painting talents. And, truthfully, he could care less about their lives and issues. He knew he was missing out on normal feelings that people had for each other, yet when he thought about trying to get past it he became frozen with fear. He simply did not feel he deserved to be loved if people really knew him.

  He felt he was dirty, used, and simple; not someone that really could add much value to anyone’s life, except what he could do with paint and with his bite. If people found out about how he had lived in the alleys, what he had done to survive, and what he had agreed to in order to get some financial security, they would see him as someone disgusting and repulsive. Why would anyone find any value in him beyond his two talents?