Les Vingt Anniversaires
A/N: So I'm not completely sure where this idea came from, but I thought it would be fun. Translation of the title is "Twenty Birthdays." Full of fluff and general moodiness, so look out.
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Prologue
10 Avril 1985 – Massy, IDF
Renata Linguini leaned back into the pillow with a sigh of exhaustion and contentment. In spite all the warnings from her mother, her friends, and her doctor, she had just given birth in the safety and comfort of her own home, as she'd always hoped she would. Now, instead of being cooped up and jittery in a hospital bed, she could sit up in bed, simply relax and enjoy the peace of her own little townhouse on Rue de Versailles. Her newly washed hair against the back of her neck, the clean blankets surrounding her, and the gentle breeze from the ceiling fan felt cool and refreshing. "Sherry" by Les Chats Sauvages was playing at a very low volume on the radio on the other end of the room. The late evening sun that slanted through the mini-blinds was an unreal mix of orange and pink that she wished she could quickly paint and keep forever.
It all felt perfect.
The midwife, Amelie, finally approached with Renata's son, cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket. "Here you are, Renata," she said very quietly, as though she had just birthed the baby in a library. "He is beautiful."
Though Renata considered herself to be better with words than most of her friends, she knew that she'd never be able to adequately describe how joy and gravity simultaneously surged through her as she finally got a good look at her son. His eyes were blue for now, but Renata knew that genetics wouldn't leave them blue for very long, and they'd probably turn brown or green. His hair was as fine as a cobweb and red like her own hair. As she studied his face, and realized how closely his features – the nose, the shape of the eyes, even the angle of the eyebrows – resembled his father's, tears began to sting inside her nose. She quickly inhaled, erasing any threat of tears and all thoughts of his father, and held him close to her heart. As though startled, the baby squirmed and began wailing.
"Sounds like he's hungry," Amelie said cheerfully, folding a stray blanket.
"I guess so," Renata said. She looked the baby in the eyes and gently raised her voice above the hearty racket. "Hey, hey, Alfredo, what's that all about, huh? Are you hungry, love? Hmm? I would be after nine months, too."
For a second Amelie stopped her straightening and sorting to glance at Renata. "Alfredo?"
"Yes, I decided on the name last night, and his middle name is René. If he'd been a girl, I would have named him Simone. I do love that name, too." Renata brushed a smiling kiss against the top of her baby's head and began preparing to feed him. "Joyeux anniversaire, Alfredo."
She barely heard as Amelie exited the room quietly, murmuring, "Alfredo René. Hmm. Alfredo Linguini…all right, then. Hmm."
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10 Avril 2008 – Paris
Rémy awoke with the sunrise, and immediately realizing what day it was, jumped off his windowsill bed, crossed the hallway into Linguini and Colette's room, and shimmied up the counterpane to stand on the bed. Colette had already left, fifteen or twenty minutes ago judging by the smell, and Linguini was sprawled in her place, snoring lightly. Rémy went to tug the curtains open and let the sunrise in, and climbed back on the bed, shouting, "Rise and shine, kid!"
Surprisingly, he didn't have to squeak again before Linguini jolted upright so suddenly that Rémy wondered if he hadn't already been awake. "Huh? What time is…oh."
"Joyeux anniversaire, Alfredo!" Rémy yelled.
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Not the most thrilling start in the world, I know, but…tell me what you think, whether it's worth continuing…