"Checkmate!" Chip yelled excitedly. Gaston was upset by another loss to a kid. He sat staring at the pieces wondering what he did wrong this time. Chip showed him a couple of toys in his room, and then they headed down to dinner.
When they reached the table, they could see they were late. Everyone was sitting, talking and eating.
"Chip why didn't your mother come get us?" Gaston whispered the words to him awkwardly. Chip looked a little guilty.
"Oops, she told me I had to be more responsible, and I needed to be on time to dinner without her telling me tonight." The two of them turned to see Mrs. Potts angry expression.
"This wine is wonderful!" Jacob lifted his glass. "To life!" Everyone laughed and smiled raising their glasses to the toast.
"To life!" They all yelled. The only one who did not yell was Shira. Gaston noticed in fact that she looked slightly worried. Gaston didn't think much of it. He was happy to have dinner that night. Everyone was. There was a happy feel overall in the room that night. The dinner buzzed with conversation.
Finally the conversations died down, and slowly everyone left the table. Gaston headed back to his room.
That night continued just like the last one, and Gaston covered his head again. Night after night, it was the same thing. Finally Gaston gave up, and didn't bother covering his head with the pillow. As he tried to fall asleep, he noticed something he hadn't before. He could hear whimpering on the other side of the curtain. Normally when they spoke it was in another language, but tonight he could hear them speaking in French.
"Shira, the word is bottle! Why are you so stupid? You need to learn the language!" Gaston could hear Jacob's voice rising over the curtain.
"Please Jacob, you've been drinking." Shira's voice was trembling, as though she had been crying. Gaston had noticed that Jacob drank a lot of wine at the dinners. The same dull thud he had heard the nights before happened again over and over. Gaston finally realized what was going on. They had not been making sweet love every night. They were not a cute happy couple. Gaston could see the image of his uncle as he heard Jacob's yelling. Gaston was the only witness to this crime. How did he not see it earlier? Shira had a number of bruises. He wanted to go over there and hit Jacob for what he was doing, but he couldn't do anything. He couldn't hurt anyone.
How could this man harm such a beautiful quiet woman? As Gaston lay in bed, he began to wonder whether he would have beaten his own wife. He was not incredibly respectful towards women, but could he bring himself to hit one? Shira never did anything. She was quiet and followed orders. To Gaston, she seemed like the perfect wife. He lay there confused and upset. He had to tell someone, but would it help? He wasn't sure, but he didn't like hearing her cry like that, muffling screams as her husband beat her.
Gaston was no saint, but even he recognized that this was wrong. Memories overwhelmed him. He was getting weaker as they weighed him down. His conscience grew heavy. He felt himself falling asleep, dreaming of another memory from long ago.
He was thirteen at the time and he had gotten pretty good at hunting. He arrived home that night carrying in a large pheasant.
"Uncle, I brought dinner." By this time in his life Gaston knew not to expect a response from his uncle He never knew what the man might be busy doing. Gaston heard heavy footsteps.
"Looks good kid." His uncle grabbed the bird and proceeded to remove the feathers. "Too bad we don't have a woman in the house to do this work. Gaston, will you get a pot boiling over the fireplace?" Gaston hurried over to the fireplace to light it. He grabbed the cooking pot which was left in the hallway and hung it over the fire. Hurrying, he ran to the well with two buckets to get some water. He saw the other kids his age playing outside. He wished he could be playing, but he somehow felt indebted to his uncle. He had to do a lot of housework, since it was just the two of them.
Lefou ran over to him. "Hey Gaston, you gotta see this!"
"Lefou I have to help get dinner ready. I'll look at it some other time." Gaston lifted the heavy buckets full of water onto his back.
"Gaston, you gotta see it!" He began to whine.
"No Lefou!" Gaston snapped back at him and carried the water home. His uncle lifted a bottle of ale to his lips.
"Took you long enough kid. Your mother really didn't teach you any work skills. Not much of a mother, if I say so. I don't know why my brother married that woman." Gaston couldn't take it when his uncle started in about his mother, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. "Hah, he really should've pounded that woman into shape. A few good beatings and maybe she wouldn't have gotten herself killed. The stupid whore." Gaston couldn't handle it anymore.
"Don't talk about my mother that way!" Gaston yelled. She was the only person he could remember loving.
"Don't talk back to me boy!" Gaston's uncle pulled out his belt and whipped him across the back. The pain burned heavily and Gaston bit his lip as he fought the ache. Gaston had to do something. That night, after his uncle went to sleep, Gaston grabbed a knife and headed to the room. Gaston watched him sleeping serenely. The time was opportune. He stood over his uncle, his neck facing the open air. Gaston trembled with the knife. Just one swipe and he'll be gone. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He dropped the knife and left the house running, his breath heavy in his throat. After what felt like hours of running, he reached an abandoned farmhouse. He spent the night there, safe and alone, promising himself that one day he would get back at the man, the man he called his uncle
Gaston turned over in bed, shaking off the memory, hoping things would get better again. He fought his pain and memories, as he reached for the safety and painlessness of sleep.