Part two: Pépinot

Chapter seven: Lunch

Pépinot picked the menu up and began flipping through the pages before he opened to the first page and actually began reading the first page of it, then the second, and the third. He closed it looking upward at the ceiling of the restaurant, and opened it again and shut it, then took a sip of his water and continued to look at the lights.

I cleared my throat to indicate I was about to talk, but he didn't look at me; his eyes were fixed on the ceiling above us.

"Have you decided what you want?" I asked making his neck snap his head in my direction.

"Yes…" he answered quickly, reaching for a piece of bread in a basket that was sitting on that table and going to take a bite from it.

"Pépinot, if you eat too many of those you won't have any room for lunch," I informed him, after the fact realizing it sounded far too fatherly like.

The boy shut his mouth and put the bread back into the basket, then looked down like he had disappointed me, or had gotten in trouble. I didn't want him to feel badly, but I also didn't want him ruining his appetite, alright now I was being fatherly, I needed to stop.

"So how've classes been going?" I asked, but I was doing it again.

He shrugged, "Okay, I don't get anything right though…. I don't think Mr. Rachin likes me very much."

This was true, but not because of Pépinot, he simply disliked all the students, well all that either misbehaved or were just not good in school, which in retrospect were all of them.

"That's alright, don't worry," I said cheerfully, "He's not the easiest to get along with, I think he dislikes me too."

A flicker of a smile creased Pépinot's mouth when I said this, so now with a bit more enthusiasm he picked up his silverware and pushed the crumbs around on his plate. He was a slight bit happier, but something was still wrong, he didn't seem… well to be enjoying himself.

"What's wrong, Pépinot?" I asked leaning forward.

He didn't answer at first, just continued staring at something on the ceiling that wasn't there and twiddling his fingers.

"Do you not like it here?"

Again he didn't respond.

"Pépinot?"

"… It's Saturday," he said, the words dribbling off his tongue like it was something he was very used to saying.

Saturday was something that was familiar to him however, it was the day that he thought his father would come and pick him up, but both his parents were dead. I wasn't sure why Chabert had told him this lie, but now they couldn't get him to stop believing it. They had told him many times that his father, nor anyone, would be coming, but he wasn't fazed by it. Every Saturday, rain or shine, freezing or blistering, he would go out to the gate, stand on the right side with his face looking through the bars onto the road, and he would wait. Sometimes he would sneak out when I wasn't even Saturday to wait there until Saturday. On Saturdays I rarely saw him come inside to eat, I don't think he ate at all on those days though. I wondered an awful lot if he knew that no one was coming, if he was trying to fool himself into believing that.

"What if he comes and I'm not there?" Pépinot asked longingly.

"Don't worry," I said while trying to think of something I could say that would not only make sense, but also make the boy feel better, "He won't come unless he knows you'll be there…."

Pépinot shrugged slowly and then looked at me, "… Will he come?"

My brain was tying knots in my tongue, "… Do you think he'll come?"

He hesitated and then shook his head slightly, "But they told me he'd come, and then, they told me he wouldn't…. Is he coming?"

"Pépinot, some of the people there aren't very nice, and you need to understand that."

He nodded, but continued staring up.

"And even if he doesn't come, one day you'll be in a place where someone loves you very, very much. I don't know how soon that will be, but I will try and help."

He didn't understand what I was telling him, but one day he would.

"So what do you want for lunch?" I asked to change the subject; I picked up the menu myself and began flipping through the pages just to make my question look convincing.

"A sandwich," he said picking up his menu and doing the same as me.

"What kind?" I said just to get him to talk.

"Cheese… maybe ham."

"What kind of bread?"

"The regular kind."

I wasn't sure what to say next, I should have brought him something to do, and again I felt like even that thought was something a parent might think while at a restaurant with their own children.

For a brief moment I heard a sudden voice inside my head telling me that I should have married, and I should have had children. But I had focused too much on my career that had never happened. I wondered, for what? I was employed as a prefect, at a school for reforming misbehaved children, for taking in those who didn't have a home, and keeping innocent kids from seeing their parents, I was unmarried, I was unhappy, and I was disliked.

Well, dislike by all but one, and that was the boy I was sitting with right now. Maybe I was liked by the others at the school, but for the most part, they would like me because I did not treat them the way they had been treated all their lives, they were treated with the slightest trace of love by me, which meant the world to them.

After another moment passed a waitress came to take our drink orders, Pépinot ordering chocolate milk and a ham and cheese sandwich, I got a glass of water and a salad with chicken on it. Pépinot wasn't one to talk excessively, but it seemed he talked more than just a little. It was hard to listen to all of it since he was talking so fast, it was hard to even hear a little of it. Although he had been upset a few seconds ago, apparently it didn't take long to get him back on the right track.

"Mr. Mathieu, what are we going to do after this?" he asked looking from his plate, completely cleaned, and then to my salad.

"We're going to walk around for a while, but after that we'll go to the hotel," I said finishing the rest of my food.

"Where are we staying?"

"Just down the street, they serve dinner and breakfast, so we can go there tonight when you get hungry."

He nodded and looked at me as if trying to say that he was more than ready to get a move on, and I didn't doubt it.