Part 2
A tall man with shoulder length blond hair tied back into a pony tail. His chin was cover in stubble. He wore a black trench coat that went to just above the knees and a blue scarf was wrapped around your neck.
He wore a smirk on his face.
Greenland's grip on my arm got tighter.
"What do you want, Franskmand? Can't you see we're a little busy?"
The man scoffed.
"What I can see, monsieur, is that you are disturbing the petite dame de day."
Greenland glared at him. "What's it to you?"
"A crime against feminine delicacy; that's what it is to me. After all, why would a lady want to go around with a punk like you?"
Greenland was really hot and bothered.
He let go of my arm and got right up in the man's face.
"You're asking for it, Jeune Français."
"I'm not asking for anything. I just think that the women should make their own decisions, especially when it comes to who their escort is going to be. So, ma dame, you have the floor."
They both turned to me.
I looked between them. Greenland still wore a hard face from being up-staged. The blond man had a warm smile on his face and he offered me his arm.
It wasn't too hard of a decision.
I slowly walked up to the blond man and lightly hooked my arm with his, placing my free hand on his bicep.
I watched Greenland as this stranger escorted me away. He was pissed. He kicked some a light pole and stomped away.
I turned my face forward.
"I could have handled that by myself."
"I don't doubt that for a moment."
"So, why did you step in?"
He thought about it for a moment.
"In truth, I just saw you and what he was doing to you and, before I knew it, I had said something."
"Do you really expect me to believe that?"
"I'll I know is that it's the truth. You can believe whatever you want."
I looked at him and he smiled at me.
There was something in his eyes that told me to believe him, so decided that I would.
But, he was still a strange man that I knew nothing about.
I looked back to see if Greenland was stalking u, as he tended to that sometimes. Once I saw that he wasn't around. I unhooked my are from the strangers and breathed into my hands, trying to warm them up.
"Looks like you could use some chocolat chaud."
I looked at him and saw that he was gesturing towards a 24 hour café.
"Thanks, but I'm alright."
I started walking away when the stranger took one of my hands and pressed it between his.
"Goodness, enfant! You are anything but alright. Your fingers are about to freeze off. Come. Join me for some chocolat chaud."
I looked him straight in the eye.
"Why are you treating me like we're friends?"
"Because I assumed that we were."
"I don't know anything about you. I don't even know who you are."
He gave me another smile.
"My name is Francis Bonnefoy. I was born and raised in Paris, France. I'm the strange one in my family. I enjoy good food, matching wine, nice clothes, slow music, long walks on chilly nights… and you. What else do you need to know?" He offered me his arm again.
I looked at him, trying to think of something to say, but all I could think about is what he said; I'm the strange one in my family. Something we had in common. Maybe for different reasons, but still.
I looked between him and the café, knowing that he wouldn't back down until I agreed to join him.
I nodded and took his arm.
He lead me to the café with the biggest smile on his face.
We enter the café and go up to the desk.
I order a French vanilla hot chocolate and he orders a peppermint hot chocolate.
Once we get our drinks, we take a table by the window.
He slipped off his trench coat and draped it over the back of the chair. I did the same with my leather vest, revealing my aqua tank top.
"No wonder you were so cold. I'm quite surprise you are not sick."
"I've live here since I born; I've gained an incredible resistance to the weather."
He smiled at me. He rested his elbows on the table.
"Now, you know everything you need to know about me but I know nothing of you."
"Where do you want me to start?"
"Your name, first off."
"Lea. Williams."
His smile widened. He stretched his hands across the table and picked mine up.
"Plaisir de vous rencontrer, Lea Williams."
He lightly kissed my hand.
I just kinda stared at him; now man had ever done that and I really didn't know how to respond.
He released my hand and I let it rest on the table.
"Now, question number 2; What is a young lady like yourself doing out on the town, at this time of night, all alone."
I looked him in the eye, debating what I should say. Should I lie? Should I tell him the truth? Should I tell him to go jump off a cliff?
Option 3 was out because he saved me and bought me hot chocolate.
But, I still didn't trust him enough to go with Option 2.
I sipped my hot chocolate and said, "I do this every night. The city is so beautiful, especially in winter, and it calms me."
I took another sip of my hot chocolate and watched his eyes. He facial expression didn't change. Was he buying it?
"So, what the real reason?"
How very perceptive of him.
I stayed silent for a while, just rubbing the edge of my mug, not meeting his eyes.
'Should I tell him?'
I looked into his eyes, trying to find answer to my own question. Even though his face was straight, his eyes reflected that he knew something was wrong.
"Can I tell you the truth and not regret it?"
He slowly nodded.
"I'm running away from home."
He popped his eyebrows in slight surprise.
"Originally, I was just breaking my curfew, bailing on being grounded and just going for a Saturday walk. But, I later realized there was no reason to ever go back."
"Are you sure about that?"
"100%."
"So, you're going to live on your own. You think you can take care of yourself?"
"Of course."
"Do you have a place to stay?"
"I'll find one."
"A job."
"I'll find one."
"Can you cook?"
I stayed silent. I had never learned any of that home ec stuff; learning how to cook British would be learning how to comit suicide.
Francis laughed at my silence.
"What about your family?"
"The reason why I'm running."
"Friends?"
"Don't have any."
"None at all?"
"Well, only two, but they're really my cousins and, usually, all of us are grounded so I don't get to see them that often."
"That's still a reason to stay."
"How do you mean?"
"Clearly, the three of you are all quite similar and you depended on one another to understand when no one else will. What will happen to them if you leave?"
He had a valid point.
The only why any of us had survived in our delusional families was because of each other.
We all had it so rough; Madison, ripped from her home in Russia. Alena had countries fighting over her like she was a wish bone and every country that wanted her was a dog. Eventually, Uncle Alfred won the custody battle but didn't acknowledge her as a daughter for 60 years. And, then, there was me; the only child of Canada who refused a British life style and was resented for it.
We were each other's crying shoulders and comforting hugs. When ever our fathers, uncles, siblings and cousins were cruel and unusual to us, we went to one another, separating ourselves from the world, and poured our heart outs, ranted, vented our anger and found ways to cheer each other up.
I hadn't ever tried to imagine my life with out them. I didn't ever want to. And, I suspected that they didn't they.
Francis rested his hand over mine. I looked him in the eye as he spoke.
"Now, I'm going to assume that you've tried to run away from home before. Have you ever gone back home on your own decision and will?"
I shook my head.
"Try it. Maybe the family that's chasing you away will give you a reason to stay when you get back."
He gave me a soft smile.
Who was this man? How could he convince me the way that he had?
"Come one. Finish you chocolat chaude."
...
We slipped our coats back on and stepped outside of the café.
We walked our way to the edge of town where my woods were. The walk was silent but I liked it. It gave me time to think.
Once we got to my woods, I turned to Francis.
"This is where we part ways."
"Before you go, I have an offer."
"Yes?"
"You want to, eventually, live on your own, but you don't know how to cook."
"Yes."
"Would you like to learn how?"
"… Are you offering?"
He flashes another smile at me. "Every Saturday, from noon to 5. Come to my cottage here and I can teach how to make the best in French cuisine."
For the first time, in a very long time, I gave someone, who wasn't my cousins, a genuine smile. "I might just take you up on that offer…. Goodbye."
He picked up my hand and kissed it, again.
"Adieu, petite chef."
I smiled as he walked away. I stood, just for a moment, watching him.
Then, I turned around and navigated my way through my woods until I got home.
My window was still open but my blanket rope was gone. I had to make due with the crisp vines growning on the side of our house.
I jumped through my window and, immediately, shit it behind me.
My room was so chilly from being open to the cold night air, so I turned on my heat and my electric blanket.
I changed into my flannel pajamas and crawled into bed, curling up in a ball.
Suddenly, I heard voices.
"Where could she have gone?"
"Matthew, stop worrying about her. Just shut her window, locked the doors and let her learn her leasson, out there, in the cold."
"Arthur, if I do that, she'll die. I know shes given all of us a lot of trouble, but she is, first and formost, my daughter."
"Maybe, there's something in her room that will tell us where she's gone."
"Good thinking, Alfred. Let's go look."
I heard my door open and light flooded in, shining on my back.
Silence cut through the air like a knife cuts butter.
I heard someone start to stomp into the room but then it stopped.
"No, don't wake her."
"Why not? She's made you worry for hours and, now she thinks that she can just slink back her and get into bed, without explaining herself."
"Don't you realize what has happened?"
Silence.
"She came back home… on her own."
More silence.
I heard the light footsteps of my father some closer. I felt him stand over me and look at me, making absolute sure, I was asleep.
Once he was convince, he gently placed his hand on my shoulder and lightly kissed my hair.
They all tip toed out and gently shut the door behind them.
I sat up and looked to the door.
Dad hasn't kiss me good night for two years. Or, had he, while I was asleep?
Franskmand - French man (Danish)
petite dame de - little lady's (French)
Jeune Francias - French boy (Danish)
ma dame - my lady (French)
chocolat chaud - hot chocolate
enfant - child
Plaisir de vous rencontrer - pleasure to meet you
Adieu, petite chef - goodbye, little chef
