Gastien Pt 1 (30 page)

“You are so right,
chèri,
” said Gastien, his voice thick with emotion. “Let’s make this the best ever.” He picked her up, carrying her to the bed.

They fed each other omelet’s and fruit in bed a few hours later. After bathing together once more, they went back to bed. This time during sex, when Gastien took Nathalie once again over the edge, she did not stop herself from calling out, “Gastien! Oh, Gastien! I love you! I lovvvvvvve youuuuu!” Then she placed her mouth over his while he hit his peak, so that he did not feel obligated to say things he did not mean.

Afterward, they lay in each other’s arms, talking until deep into the night. She shared her fears and hopes for the child and her marriage, he shared more of his dream of Montmartre. As they looked into each other’s eyes they both knew that their friendship held a bond that could never be broken. He felt her complete love for him. Instead of it weighing him down, he accepted it without guilt, just letting it be what it was. She, in turn, felt his love for her, albeit in a different way. She knew he would always be there for her if she asked, just as she knew that he would always be true to his word. She felt that he valued her deeply, not just as a sex partner, but as a person and a friend.

Nath knew then that they would write as they talked, sharing secrets, giving each other strength when needed, and making each other smile. Most importantly, she knew she would always have him with her in the child. And he would always have her heart.

They fell asleep during the early morning hours. A little later she woke to look at him. To her surprise, as he slept she watched him cry. She kissed away his tears softly, making sure she did not wake him.

When Gastien woke, it was his turn to watch Nath sleep. She looked as lovely as ever laying there. They had agreed to not having a drawn out goodbye in the morning, so he decided to make it as easy as possible. He dressed quietly, coming back to look at her one last time.

“Be happy,
chèri.
Please be happy,” he whispered. Pausing a moment to just look at her face, he then said gently, “I love you, Nath.” Gastien turned and quickly left.

Nathalie stayed lying there long after he left. She kept her eyes closed, breathing in the smell of him on the sheets. She had heard him say it. That was all that mattered.

As Gastien walked home, he felt for the first time in his young life the loss of someone that he deeply cared about. He had not really cared for many people in his life, as he had been mostly treated poorly by others. His mother, Paul, Matt, Mic, Father Fournier, and Nath were the few he could think of that had been good to him. To some extent he cared about Emma, she treated him like a son. He also cared about his other siblings, but had never been particularly close to any except Paul. He respected and liked Maurice, however that was not a friendship. Maurice was his boss. The other artists he knew he enjoyed drinking, talking and painting with, but – again – there was not a close bond. Gastien did not let others in easily. He had been hurt too often.

Nath had been special. He had trusted her completely, something he had never done before, except for Mic. This pain of losing someone you trusted and loved was too great to open yourself up for, he decided. Nath had not only taught him a lot about women, they had shared so many other ideas and fears! He told her things he would never share with a man. He was afraid that he would be seen as soft. Now she was gone. Sure, she might write to him, but he would sorely miss having a confidante.

He realized that meant more than the fantastic sex. That certainly made him smile. Nath would get a kick out of knowing that, he was sure. Another thing he was sure of was that, moving forward, he would bury his emotions even more thoroughly in the color. Paints would never leave him or hurt him. It would be wisest to trust only his art and those tools. And Mic. He would always trust Mic.

Gastien refused to dwell on the baby. There was no purpose feeling bad or worrying about it. He was asked to stay away, so he would. He understood why. He had no desire to cause pain in their family. He also wanted to try to avoid causing himself pain by thinking about it. He resolved, once again, to give that pain to his paints.

He was not hungry, so when he got upstairs he decided to go to bed for the day. He wanted to just hide for awhile, like an animal that has been injured and needs to lick its wounds. Perhaps he would feel like eating later that night.

When sleep finally came, it was not the healing, restful sleep he had hoped for. He kept dreaming of green eyes, and Nath’s laughter tinkling as she turned to kiss him. He also dreamt of holding her in his arms, and how she felt when he was inside her. Finally he dreamt about how she looked when she told him she loved him, as she reached the climax of their union last night. Those green eyes had seared his soul in that instant. He would miss her terribly.

Coming awake, Gastien heard noise in Mic’s room. It was a surprise that Mic was not with Clarissa. He dressed quickly, deciding to knock on Mic’s door. When Mic opened it, Gastien looked at him with sad eyes.

 “Nath has left me.”

Mic ushered him in, where they sat on the bed. “Well,” shared Mic, “Clarissa is gone, too.”

They both sat staring at the floor. Gastien finally said, “I am sorry for you, Mic. I know you and Clarissa tried your best to make it work.”

Mic nodded. “We did, Gaz. But, you know, it is almost a relief that it is over. We were quarreling almost constantly lately. It was unhappy for both of us. I will survive. I am beginning to think I will never have a permanent partner.” He sighed.

“Well, you know…it is hard to expect to have a permanent partner if you are not a solid provider, Mic. I know that is difficult for you to accept, but if you truly want to paint, and I know you do, then you will need to understand that women need security that you can’t give. Can’t you harden your heart a little?”

Mic shook his head. “I don’t think so, Gaz. I wish I could, but I really like the idea of someone loving me forever. I will probably get my heart broken at least a dozen more times.”

“Ah. Well, if that is the case, then I guess I will just have to slap some sense into you every time it happens,” Gastien said, looking serious.

Mic jerked his head up to look at him. “You and how many others?” he asked, and they both grinned. Then the mood got serious again. “Do you love her, Gaz?”

“Not in the way you are talking about. But,
oui
, I love her. Nath was very, very special to me.”

“Well, what happened?” inquired Mic. He could not imagine a woman being the one leaving Gastien.

“Well, if you remember, I told you that she was eventually going to marry an older man, that it had been arranged for years. She is marrying him in two weeks.”

“Why the hurry all of a sudden? I mean, couldn’t she have given you some warning?”

“Not this time. She is going to have a baby.” Gastien swallowed and looked at the wall. “The baby is mine, Mic.”

Mic drew in his breath. He saw that Gastien was in pain, but he also knew his friend did not want to be saddled with a wife and family, even if Nath would have married him. And, he knew Nath! He could not imagine Nath living the way Gastien planned to, she was too privileged. He also knew that now was not the time for reasoning.

“Well, hell,” Mic said. “I guess it is time to go get drunk!”

“Agreed, my friend.” Gastien looked at Mic. “Still, we have to work tomorrow night.”

“That is almost twenty four hours from now. We can get quite pissed by midnight. That still gives us plenty of time to recover.”

Gastien grinned. “Well, then what are we waiting for? The clock is ticking. Let’s go!”

Neither of them felt very good when they showed up to work the next night. In fact, both were quite pale. They valued their jobs, though, so they gave it their all with no one the wiser. Gastien thought he was going to vomit each time he poured a glass of wine. Gallantly, he did not let it show. Mic, for his part, hit the bathroom a couple of times during his shift. Thankfully, the nausea would pass before he actually got sick. They both vowed to never drink again.

Of course, when their shift ended they looked at each other and agreed that they felt much better. Out they went to join up with a couple friends. Although they indulged very little that night, both knew they would be partying again in no time. Parisian nights were made for good times. A few hours of feeling sick could not dampen their spirits for long.

A couple of weeks went by. Gastien had no one hiring him for paintings, because it was still the season of cold weather. Even so, he felt confident that people were interested. Some had inquired about his services, which was a good sign. Everyone was waiting for spring to return once again to the city. People always were more ready to spend money in the spring.

It was hard to believe that his one year lease was going to be up on the first of March. That was only about one month away! He had already told Emma that he would be paying for another year. He appreciated the fact that she did not even raise the rent. Gastien was not making enough to really save much of anything. He would have to start saving more and going out less, as his bank deposit box would be almost empty after paying for another year of rent. He had enjoyed a year of just being young and having fun. Now it was time to get serious about saving money to least lease a studio someday.

Leaving work one day with Mic, Gastien reminded him that another year was coming up. He assumed that Mic would be staying. Mic surprised him, though, by saying that he was not going to stay after the end of February.

“Gaz, I need to move on. I really need to get to Montmartre soon. I am hoping you will come along.”

Gastien was really disappointed to hear that. He needed to stay in Paris at least another year to try to build a reputation. It would be imperative that he had clients who wanted portraits when he first got to Montmartre. Otherwise he would once again have no money. His reputation would be what would drive people to Montmartre to be painted by him. He knew rent was far cheaper there, so if he had clientele he would be ok.

It still really bothered him that owning his own place would always be next to impossible. He really wanted to be able to eventually just paint what he wanted to paint and have his own hours. Landlords had a way of raising rents unexpectedly. He did not want to have to move every year or two just to keep ahead financially.

“Mic, I can’t. I need to build a clientele from the gentry and the
bourgeois
. I am thinking I will be ready in another year, but not before then. Can’t you wait another year?” he pleaded.

Mic shook his head. “I just can’t, Gaz. I really hate going without you. But, I don’t do portraits, I do landscapes. Montmartre is where the art scene is taking off. I want to get there before it is too late. Plus, six of us are going to rent a space together. We were hoping you would join us.”

“I can understand what you are saying, but I need to get that reputation built. Also, how can I expect people to come to a noisy studio with six artists in it and sit for a portrait? Unfortunately, I will need my own space when I get there. I want people feeling comfortable coming to me.”

“
Oui
, I realize that, too. I don’t like it, but I understand it. Do you understand why I have to go?”

“
Oui,
I do. I don’t like it either, but I will be there in a year. You won’t get a new best
ami
, will you?” teased Gastien, as he made kissing noises at Mic.

Mic laughed loudly. “Oh, hell no, Gaz! You are too unique to be replaced. Although I have to say, if you ever make kissing noises at me again I may reconsider.”

“It’s a deal. We stay best
amis
. Send me a letter at the restaurant when you get settled, in case I am gone somewhere painting at an estate. I will always check there.”

“Sure, but I will also come to the city sometimes. It would not kill you to come out to Montmartre once in awhile on your days off, either,” teased Mic. “I seem to remember you and I having a few wild nights there when we took a
cabriolet
out.”

“Don’t I know! I am lucky to be alive to remember! I will, if I am not working. I really hope that I get more painting appointments.”

“I hope you do, too. I want you in Montmartre as quickly as possible. The village will never be the same once you arrive.”

“Are you saying I will be the village idiot?”

Mic laughed. “
Non
. I am saying women better keep their legs crossed. I will take the ones you don’t have time for.”

Gastien punched him in the arm. “You can have most of the village girls, Mic. I plan on keeping busy with the wives that come to be painted.”

“What fun is that? They already belong to someone,” grumbled Mic.

“Exactly,
ami
. No commitment. No heartbreak. Just hot sex, quick satisfaction, and then back to painting again.”

Mic looked at Gastien carefully. “Why are you so afraid of caring?”

Gastien looked right back at him. “Because caring means you get hurt. Now, let’s go eat.”

Over February, Mic gradually moved his paintings and supplies to Montmartre into the studio the others had rented. He would be completely gone by the 28
th
. On the 27
th
Gastien and many other artists threw him a party. They both had the 28
th
off. Mic and Gastien went to breakfast the next morning, then Gastien said farewell. “See you soon, Mic. If we don’t cross paths for some reason before then, don’t forget: one year.”

“I won’t forget. Just keep building your reputation. And I don’t mean the one controlled by that weapon in your pants.”

“You’re just jealous of it.”

“You wish. Yours is just a glimmer of what I am packing…”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, embraced, and then Mic got into the
cabriolet
. Soon he could not be seen even at a distance. Even though he would be lonely for his best
ami,
Gastien understood. This was the start of Mic’s life in Montmartre! Seeing Mic go made it seem even more real for Gastien. The year would be over before he knew it.