Ennui de Famille - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Paws
Last updated: 01/26/2007 02:19:59 AM

Chapter 2

“… why Rose? Why did y’ lie t’ me? I would have helped y’ both as much as y’ needed – y’ knew dat.” The man – Jean-Luc he reminded himself – looked pained. “Would have helped y’ with whatever y’ needed. Sent him t’ d’ best schools…all of dat. Why didn’t y’ just tell me?”

Remy felt his face flush at that; blood returning to his cheeks in a sudden surge. He knew why his parents had kept him hidden. One glance is all it took for him to figure it out. This man wasn’t the same as them - the fine suit, the gold gem studded cufflinks, the thick ring on one finger all proclaimed the man’s status clearly. Like a well to do family like that would have wanted anything to do with the likes of them – or him, some freak kid. His Mere was huddled in on herself, shivering, muttering some barely intelligible words under her breath at Jean-Luc.

Clenching his jaw he drug off his glasses, fixing Jean-Luc with a glare. “Dat’s why. So just leave it be, comprehends?”

*************

Jean-Luc couldn’t help gaping for a moment as his nephew stared at him from the oddest eyes that he’d ever seen. They were red on black, the red irises flaring brighter in anger like a blown on piece of coal. Devil eyes. He’d not felt this utterly out of his depth in years – what was he supposed to say?

The young man just crammed his glasses back on his face and turned to walk down the path, holding Rose firmly but gently by her arm as he drug her after him.

“Wait, sil vous plait…Remy is it?”

He watched as the auburn haired man stopped again, noticing the way his jaw was clenched as he reluctantly turned back to face him. They spent a moment just letting the rain poured down over them as they watched each other. Just when he was convinced that the young man wasn’t going to answer him, he took a deep breath, nodding slightly.

“Oui. It’s Remy.”

Jean-Luc smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring, walking carefully back up to Rose and the boy, as Remy looked ready to bolt at the nearest opportunity. His nephew held a tight sense of distrust and anger around him, and Jean-Luc worried as to why that was the boy’s gut reaction to him. What had Rose and Bastien told the boy about him?

He offered his hand to Remy to shake, who hesitated only for a minute before clasping it briefly in his own, only to let go and stand silently again, waiting. Rose clung to his one arm like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Dieu. What does a man say to his nephew that he’d thought dead at birth?

********************

Remy dropped the man’s hand as quickly as he could, unsure as to what to say next to him. What did he want? A sudden thought sprung to mind.

“Did y’ pay for dis? D’ funeral?” He couldn’t imagine how his Mere would have been able to even be allowed to walk through the front door of a place that was ritzy enough to service this graveyard, never mind come up with the money for a deposit.

“Oui.” Jean-Luc looked bewildered at the turn of conversation. “He was my brother.”

“Remy’ll pay y’ back as soon as he can.”

Evidently that had stumped the older man yet again, as he opened his mouth momentarily and shut it, a slight frown puckering his brow.

“Non. It’s my place t’ pay for it.” The words were firm and no nonsense. A sudden smile teased at the corner of his mouth.

Remy blinked, glad for the dark glasses that he knew helped him keep a poker face. The man – his uncle, he reminded himself again, was studying him thoroughly again.

“Y’ look just like I did at dat age. It’s like lookin’ in a mirror.”

Remy thought on the words, taking a moment to study the man in return. There were many points that he could see now that they’d been pointed out – the same chin, brow and nose. But it was more in the way that they both carried themselves. He supposed that the resemblance was fairly strong, though he’d never thought about comparing himself to another person like that.

Yet. What did that matter? What did the man want from him?

Jean-Luc looked back over his shoulder up at his companions still on the hill who were watching the whole scene intently, but were more than likely too far away to hear most of it.

“Remy, dat’s y’re cousin Henri…an’ his wife Mercy.” He smiled encouragingly. “Why don’t y’ come up an’ meet dem?”

He just shook his head quickly, making to step away. “Got t’ get Maman back t’ d’ hotel. She’s soaked through.” As he was – but like a few more minutes would make any difference. He just found that he was suddenly terrified with the thought of it all – the pressures of trying to meet expectations and failing.

****************

“Remy.” Jean-Luc saw that the boy was ready to slip away on him. He was desperate not to lose this chance. “Wait - is dere a way dat we could meet y’ for dinner or somethin’? Once y’ get a chance t’ get changed an’ all dat is.” He noticed the way that the boy’s gaze turned again to the people up on the hill, and realized that the boy may feel overwhelmed, faced with a whole bunch of relatives.

“Or just me. We can talk. I’d really like t’ get a chance t’ talk with y’…for just a bit.”

Remy turned back to him and shrugged. “Remy’ll see. Depends. Got stuff t’ do, an’ not in N’awleans for long.”

Jean-Luc was careful to keep his face pleasantly neutral. The odd manner that Remy had of speaking – referring to himself as if he weren’t even present concerned him. Was it just a ‘hip’ way of talking? He was concerned about what the boy’s life must have been like growing up, despite the confident air that he held wrapped around him.

He’d seen enough of Rose and Bastien over the years to know that there was no way they could have offered a child a normal upbringing. He slipped a card out his pocket, passing it to the troubled young man.

“Sil vous plait. Call anytime.”

************************

The ride back with his Maman on the streetcar had been spent in silence. He had a million questions to ask – and yet he didn’t want to hear the answers to any of them.

He walked her to her room, opening the door for her and standing to the side to let her in. Waiting till she was clear of the door, he started to swing it shut before her hand on his stopped him. He looked up at her questioningly.

“Y’ should call him Remy.”

He dropped his face into neutrality. “Got a lot of things t’ do.”

“Non.” She looked at him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time since he’d met up with her on the corner. “Y’ need t’ call him. Jean-Luc’s a good man. Y’ two should know each other.”

He shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the conversation, but he nodded in the hopes that she’d take it as agreement, and leave him alone.

“I’m sorry, Remy.” His gaze snapped back up to her face in surprise. “We should have done things different. But nothin’ t’ do about that now. Just – y’ call y’re uncle. Y’ hear me?”

“Oui, Maman.”

***********************

Despite the fact that he had agreed to do it, it took him a long time to call. He delayed as much as possible, lingering through the dinner hour in the shower. It was nearly 9:00 pm by the time he finally picked up the phone and dialed the number displayed on the stylish black embossed card, half hoping it was too late, or that his uncle wouldn’t be home and the decision would be taken out of his hands.

He listened to the phone ring on the other end, his stomach clenching as he heard a somewhat familiar voice answer it.

“Allo?”

“It’s...Remy.” he twisted the dirty off-white cord of the phone around one finger, sweat slicking his hand and making the cord slip easily against his skin.

A gusty sigh of relief made the phone crackle funnily in his ear. “I’m so glad y’ called Remy. Was thinkin’ dat y’ weren’t going t’.”

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Maman told me too.”

“Well, I’m glad she did.” A brief pause; he felt the awkwardness between the two of them. “So den…can we meet somewhere? Have y’ eaten?”

“Non…”

“Well den, where are y’? We could meet somewhere nearby, or I could pick y’ up.”

Remy thought quickly, trying to pick a restaurant that was middle of the road…not somewhere that he wouldn’t be welcome, but not somewhere where his uncle would feel like he was slumming. “Could meet y’ at Mulate’s…it’s not far from here.”

“Dat sound’s bein…in thirty minutes den?”

He agreed and said goodbye, replacing the phone onto its cradle, untwisting the cord from his finger. His fingertip had gone purple he’d had it wrapped so tightly – he hadn’t even noticed.

Ah well…best to get it over with. He threw on his coat and left.