Charles sipped at his Kriek, looking at the Meuse from the Couronne, the bar that had become his and Erik's favorite place in late afternoons since their arrival a few weeks earlier. The sun played with the waves created by the barges floating up and down the river. Belgian summer wasn't always nice, but when it was, the intense heat's sole ennemy was the fresh breeze coming from the Meuse. And a cold beer. Charles took another sip.
The shadow of the collegiate church on the other side of the street didn't quite reach the bar's terrace. But the massive architecture seemed to radiate some kind of comfort, as if the darkness inside the church sneaked under the heavy door to invite passer-bys to join its fresh confines. It called to Charles who, even though not a religious person at all, wanted nothing more than enter the old building and pray for the relief of the night to come earlier.
The streets started to fill with people : 4pm had passed and gone, and offices and companies let go of their tired employees into the town. They still had 2 hours before most of the shops would close for the night, hence still some time to buy clothes and books and sweets. Once home, they would enjoy about 4 more hours of light around a BBQ and a pool, maybe. Charles had come to realize quickly how much Belgian people liked their free time, starting work early in order to be home early as well. Quite the contrast with the USA. And if the relaxed behavior of people here told him anything, it was that it worked like a charm : Belgians were nice, calm and cool.
Charles was eyeing the rose window of the collegiate church when a tall shadow fell on him.
"Hello, darling. How was your day ?" Erik asked. He kissed Charles' sweaty forehead before he sat next to him.
A waiter walked to them, a large smile on his face and a notepad in his hand. "Bonsoir. Qu'est-ce que je vous sers ?"
"Une Val-Dieu triple, et une planchette, s'il vous plaît," Erik answered in a heavily accented French.
The young waiter scribbled on his notepad. He looked at Charles. "Et pour monsieur, ça sera ?"
Erik answered for Charles. "Rien pour l'instant."
"Bien, monsieur. Une Val-Dieu triple et une planchette, tout de suite." He left them.
Erik's ability with languages remained a huge turn on for Charles, and right now, he couldn't suppress a shiver of arousal. It was becoming a recurring occurence, as every day, Erik had to use some of his skills. Actually, nights in Belgium were as hot as the days – although in a different way.
"So, your day ?" Erik asked again when Charles stayed silent. "What did you do ?"
Charles cleared his throat. "I walked around in the forest of Solières," he answered while pointing at the wooden hills surrounding the town. From just behind the café, you could follow a path around the church and the fortress, through the tiniest and oldest streets of Huy, until you reached the edge of the woods. The Solières, its dark undergrowth, the caves hidden here and there, and the stream that gave it its name, had borne the strangest legends and myths – about little vengeful men called "nutons". And after having walked under the canopy for hours, Charles understood why. The atmosphere of the Solières invited to day-dream. The murmur of the stream sounded like the voice of nymphs, of pretty magical women – or young men – conversing around the Solières river during the day. And maybe sleeping in the Trou Manto at night. Charles had strolled through the forest and finally reached the border of the Meuse in Ben-Ahin, at the end of the afternoon. He had taken the bus to come back to Huy before Erik's work ended.
So he told Erik. The older man was smiling. "Maybe you could show me, some day."
"Definitely. What do you think of..."
"Une Val-Dieu et une planchette," the waiter interrupted them. "Ça fera 7 euros 50."
Erik gave the waiter a 10 euro bill, before he dag through the slices of cheese and salami lying on the wooden board.
"Is it really wise, since we're having a feast tonight ?" Charles asked while stealing a cube of gouda.
"Dinner is in more than two hours. Don't worry, I'll be hungry enough for a huge plate of mussles and fries."
"I hope so ! It was hard enough to book a table at Le Palace." Charles took a mouthful of Kriek. He wasn't usually a big fan of sugary drinks, but every beer in Belgium, even the lightest ones, were much stronger than anything he had ever drunk before. Hence his choice of sweet beer. "And your day at the nuclear plant ?"
Erik shrugged. "Same as usual. There's a leak. Everybody knows there's a leak. I was called here to prove there's a leak. And still they look for a good reason to keep the reactor working until 2025." He sighed. "I feel like I'm trying to walk through a foot-thick layer of mud. It sucks my boots in at every step – or my wits, in that case."
As an engineer specialized in nuclear power, Erik had been called by EDF to investigate the possibility of keeping the first reactor of Tihange working for 12 more years when it was supposed to be shut down in 2015. The risk wasn't high, but it was still there, and Erik didn't want to take it. Yet no one was willing to listen to him : too much money was at stake for the French company. And he couldn't call the media – he had signed a contract to stay silent about the plan to keep the reactor working, despite the leak. Charles' most important job, here, in Belgium, was to alleviate Erik's frustration, day after day. He loved the task – don't get him wrong, comforting Erik, whatever the way, was pleasing enough and highly rewarding. But he'd like for Erik's burden to disappear. To drown in the Meuse.
Charles lowered his eyes. "So you still don't know when we're going back home..."
Charles liked Belgium. It was a nice country, full of nice people. But he missed his home, his house, his friends. Living in a hotel room, no matter how charming and cozy, was starting to feel less and less pleasant. It didn't feel like a vacation anymore.
"Not yet," Erik replied, chewing on a slice of sausage and rincing his mouth with some beer. "But I asked for housing. They'll lend us a little house somewhere around Huy."
Charles sighed. That meant they could be here for quite some time. He finished his glass and asked for another bottle with a sign of the hand.
"I'd like for us to stay a couple of months more."
"Do you like it here that much ?"
Erik shook his head. "Nothing like that." He searched through his pockets and took out a small square box.
Charles stared at it, trying to understand exactly what it meant.
Erik kept talking. "You see, if we stay until the end of september, we'd have the right to marry here. Would you like that ?" he asked, holding out the box to Charles and opening it. Inside was a silver ring, simple, and more special for it.
Charles looked at the ring and smiled. "I think I can manage to enjoy a bit more of Belgium, if you insist."
Erik slid the ring on Charles's finger, and raised his hand. The waiter was here a second later. "Vous voudriez autre chose ?"
"Une bouteille de Champagne, s'il vous plaît," Erik answered. And he kissed his fiancé.
On the Meuse, a barge honked. The bright sun made sparkles on the water, throwing some magic on the instant.
Maybe Belgium was Heaven, after all.