Gabriel learned from a very early age to keep quiet and do everything in his hand to act like he wasn't there. The men who came to Maman's room didn't appreciate seeing children around—after all, they were there because they had their own at home. So Gabriel's place was inside the closet, in the dark, until Maman was finished.

It wasn't that bad. He knew how to distract himself. He pictured himself like the heroes of the movie posters he saw at the cinema—he had never gone to the movies, but the posters at the entry were stimulating enough. It could also be pretty entertaining to hold his pee or coughing, or wait for the right moment to let the inevitable sounds out. The bedroom became quite noisy once the guy came in, so it wasn't that difficult. Sometimes, he also peeked out and saw what seemed like a wrestling fight.

It was a fight sometimes, and not a very fair one. Some of the men were huge, and Maman was petite. It usually ended up with Maman telling them that they were hurting her, and it seemed to make them proud, and played tougher. They were definitely not gentlemen. Gentlemen don't treat ladies that way. But, in a way, Maman wasn't a lady either—women called themselves 'ladies' in order to differentiate themselves from the likes of Maman. So, yes, nobody was a gentleman or a lady in there. Sometimes, when they were gone, he had to give Maman some time before he showed up, but it always ended up the same: with Maman holding him in her arms and filling his face with kisses. If there were no visitors that night, they slept together, in the same bed. Maman sang him to sleep and told him how handsome he was, his little man.

That didn't happen much often. Maman was a very popular girl. She was young (she wasn't twenty yet), blonde, clean and pretty. Many men dismissed the other girls and wanted her. Some were good to Maman and brought her presents; others hit her.

Maman said one of them was his Papa and so had to be respectful. Gabriel wanted to know which one, but Maman never told him. Wasn't it funnier, not to know? Like a big surprise. You don't spoil surprises.

Some were travelers who came and went. There was one, an old man Maman called Petit Bouchon, that died in the act, of a heart attack. Others were caught by a wife that came in screaming and pulling women's hair and were never seen again.

There were two who were regular. Their names—Gabriel found out hearing them talk to each other—were Bellamy and Ernest. Two young men, the kind of people who went to college, and drove nice cars, and went to awesome parties, and played tennis in their own court. They were friends; they were always seen together. They always shared Maman.

Gabriel risked himself to be discovered every time they came over because he wanted to look at them closely, retain their features in his memory, study their bodies.

Bellamy was lean, had brown hair, pale blue eyes. As Gabriel grew up, he found that his body was developing in that direction; his hair was blond just like Maman's but his eyes were the same shade of blue as Bellamy's.

Ernest had a birth mark in the butt, just like him, and that was not all: they had the same face when they smirked. Also, he was blond. His kind of blond.

There were times when he was caught. Since they were single and had no children (that they knew), they were not bothered to find children in that kind of place. They almost seemed amused.

He remembered one time when Ernest lit a cigarette and patted his head saying: "You are so lucky to have a Maman like that, kid."

And Bellamy added: "You want to be like her one day? You seem like you're going to be one hell of a beauty when you grow up." And they both laughed, he didn't know why.

Maman said she shouldn't listen to them. Many men came drunk and said nonsense. Remember, just cover your ears and pretend they are not there.

Until he couldn't ignore them. That night, when it seemed the pair drunk way too much.

Maman didn't make a sound. She tried to but couldn't. Gabriel didn't move because he had to obey her, he couldn't leave the closet while they were there under any circumstance, so he could just watch. He saw Maman's face getting red, then purple, then blue. He saw the two gentlemen muttering excitedly to each other, getting dressed quickly and running away.

The Madame was not very annoyed by this: she had gotten paid in advanced, and girls like those were very easy to replace. She told Gabriel there was no reason why he should stay any longer and had to leave. Maman had already told him that the Madame had insisted very much when she was pregnant with him that she didn't like the idea of him being born in the first place—her girls didn't need that kind of distraction and a pregnancy ruining their bodies. The other women in the house were much more understanding. They hugged and kissed him in tears, some gave him their own savings, wished him good luck. When you are older, find whoever did this to poor Milou and cut their balls off.

Why should he wait?

Maman said he was a little man.

It wasn't difficult. He knew how to go unnoticed. Also, he wasn't much developed yet. He just had to choose the right clothes, and he could totally pass as a girl. Fortunately, it seemed the pair was so drunk they didn't reject any kind of female, no matter her age.

They were drunk, and Gabriel took advantage of it. Ernest was giggling when he leaned over him and, with a quick movement, cut his throat with a piece of glass from the back alley. He saw him choke in his own blood like the pig he was.

Was it him? Or was it Bellamy, who, realizing what was happening, tried to strangle him the way he did with Maman? While stabbing him in the chest once, twice, three times, four, his eyes on his, Gabriel tried to guess. Which one of them was the one who gave him life? Was it one of them?

He wandered the streets some time after that, until a man called Rochette took him under his wing. Gabriel wasn't stealthy enough stealing his wallet. It turned out the guy also earned a living assaulting people's pockets. He had talent, he said; he just had to refine it. He also said that he didn't need to be sad about not having a father. Someone who's always telling you what to do, bothering you, not allowing you to do what you want! He was better off never knowing if his dad was alive or who he was.

After some time, Gabriel agreed and decided to let the question he had lived with all of his short life die.


THE END