Christian and Ryan left the bakery a moment later, with the boy holding a small cake in one hand. He stared at it as if it were pure gold. He stammered his thanks.
"It's no problem." Christian answered. He nodded to the boy, as a way of saying goodbye, then sat down at another cafe table. To his surprise, Ryan sat at the table with him.
He watched Christian scribble on paper for a few moments. "What are you writing?"
"Just a story."
"What is it about?"
"Um...love."
Ryan made a face, the typical face of an eight year old boy when he hears about that. "Love? That's boring."
Christian smirked. "No it's not. You say that now, but wait until you're older."
"Yeah right." Ryan broke off a piece of the cake and offered it to Christian, who shook his head. Ryan shrugged and shoved the piece into his mouth. "So, you're a writer. Have you published any books?"
"A few."
"Name one."
"Well, my first, and most popular, book was called A Story About Love."
"You wrote that book? My mom has it, and she reads it all the time. It makes her cry." Ryan looked up with a quizical look. "Why does it make people cry?"
Christian looked down at his lap for a moment. "Well, it has a very sad part at the end. Very sad part."
Ryan nodded. "I thought so, but my mom won't let me read it. She hides it so I can't look at it." Ryan frowned. "She doesn't even let me look at it in the bookstore, even to just read the back of it."
"Well, it isn't a book for kids."
"Probably not. But anyway, I think you're my mom's favorite writer, or something. She has all of your books, and she reads them all so much that the pages fall out. Then we have to go buy another copy."
"What about your father?"
"I don't know my father. My mom said he left soon after she had me and doesn't even know he has a son."
"Well that's sad."
"I don't know. I mean, how can you miss what you never knew?"
"I don't know."
Ryan opened his mouth to say something else when a harsh voice called across the cafe. "Ryan Christian! Get over here now!"
Ryan frowned and turned toward the voice, along with Christian. An older woman was rushing towards, bag of groceries in hand. She approached Ryan and snatched up his hand. "Ryan! You know better than to go running off without telling us where you are going! Your mother is worried sick!"
Ryan turned to Christian and made a face. Christian stifled a laugh. Ryan wretched his hand from the woman's grasp and turned back to her. "Marie, this is Christian. He's a writer." He turned to Christian. "This is Marie. She helps take care of me."
Marie looked to the man Ryan called Christian, and nearly dropped her bag of groceries. It was the Christian! Satine's Christian! She struggled to keep a poker face as she extended her hand. He shook it, and looked at her with a curious expression.
"Have we met?" he asked.
"Um, no! No we haven't. Ryan! We really must go." She turned and grasped the boy's hand again, practically dragging him with her.
Ryan turned back to a confused Christian. "It was nice meeting you, Christian! Hope to talk to you again soon!"
"It was nice to meet you too!" Christian shouted back as the boy and the woman turned a corner. He laughed quietly to himself as he pulled out a pen.
"It's no problem." Christian answered. He nodded to the boy, as a way of saying goodbye, then sat down at another cafe table. To his surprise, Ryan sat at the table with him.
He watched Christian scribble on paper for a few moments. "What are you writing?"
"Just a story."
"What is it about?"
"Um...love."
Ryan made a face, the typical face of an eight year old boy when he hears about that. "Love? That's boring."
Christian smirked. "No it's not. You say that now, but wait until you're older."
"Yeah right." Ryan broke off a piece of the cake and offered it to Christian, who shook his head. Ryan shrugged and shoved the piece into his mouth. "So, you're a writer. Have you published any books?"
"A few."
"Name one."
"Well, my first, and most popular, book was called A Story About Love."
"You wrote that book? My mom has it, and she reads it all the time. It makes her cry." Ryan looked up with a quizical look. "Why does it make people cry?"
Christian looked down at his lap for a moment. "Well, it has a very sad part at the end. Very sad part."
Ryan nodded. "I thought so, but my mom won't let me read it. She hides it so I can't look at it." Ryan frowned. "She doesn't even let me look at it in the bookstore, even to just read the back of it."
"Well, it isn't a book for kids."
"Probably not. But anyway, I think you're my mom's favorite writer, or something. She has all of your books, and she reads them all so much that the pages fall out. Then we have to go buy another copy."
"What about your father?"
"I don't know my father. My mom said he left soon after she had me and doesn't even know he has a son."
"Well that's sad."
"I don't know. I mean, how can you miss what you never knew?"
"I don't know."
Ryan opened his mouth to say something else when a harsh voice called across the cafe. "Ryan Christian! Get over here now!"
Ryan frowned and turned toward the voice, along with Christian. An older woman was rushing towards, bag of groceries in hand. She approached Ryan and snatched up his hand. "Ryan! You know better than to go running off without telling us where you are going! Your mother is worried sick!"
Ryan turned to Christian and made a face. Christian stifled a laugh. Ryan wretched his hand from the woman's grasp and turned back to her. "Marie, this is Christian. He's a writer." He turned to Christian. "This is Marie. She helps take care of me."
Marie looked to the man Ryan called Christian, and nearly dropped her bag of groceries. It was the Christian! Satine's Christian! She struggled to keep a poker face as she extended her hand. He shook it, and looked at her with a curious expression.
"Have we met?" he asked.
"Um, no! No we haven't. Ryan! We really must go." She turned and grasped the boy's hand again, practically dragging him with her.
Ryan turned back to a confused Christian. "It was nice meeting you, Christian! Hope to talk to you again soon!"
"It was nice to meet you too!" Christian shouted back as the boy and the woman turned a corner. He laughed quietly to himself as he pulled out a pen.