9.
(und wünsch mir dass ich eine Mutter hätte)
Josh had no idea what had made him say these words. No; he didn't know how he could say them, in the first place. Never before, not for a moment, had he imagined he would one day say them. 'She is my mother.' It sounded abstract... and yet spread warmth and sweetness inside him. He kept looking at the woman in the photograph, absolutely certain he didn't know her; that was what his mind told him, his memory, that conscious one - but his heart knew better, knew more.
She was so young in this picture... she couldn't be older than seventeen. Dark, curly hair encircled her heart-shaped face, and blue eyes were shining with endless happiness. She radiated such an unlimited joy of life that her very sight seemed to heal wounds and ease all pain. He could stare at her for the whole eternity and have not enough.
"Yes."
He stirred at the voice that had suddenly appeared in his world - in the world that had narrowed to himself and that unearthly creature... his mother. He frowned and raised his head, trying to remember where he was, which required some effort. France. Toulouse. Lavaud residence. Mr Ghislain in the sunbathed office. Himself... he had come here to ask... and had already been given... the first answer? 'Yes,' that man had said. Yes - confirming his words. Suddenly he felt like smiling - out of that sweetness filling him. Mother. It was his mother. That realisation was so wonderful and so unusual... unlike anything he'd felt so far. He hadn't expected such sensation, he really hadn't...
The man sat down on the opposite couch yet, for some reason, wouldn't look him in the eye, and thus Josh looked at the photograph again, this time trying to retain the sense of reality. It wasn't easy, for that smile would still flood him with bliss, promised the endless good, so irresistible...
"That is my sister... Eliane Vallee nee Lavaud," Ghislain spoke again and went on, "You, in all probability, are her son... my nephew... and your name is Gilbert Vallee."
Josh blinked. He tore his eyes off the picture, his fingers involuntarily clenching on the edge of it, to look at the man. "I'm Joshua O-" He paused. "I am Joshua. It is my name," he stressed with some warning.
Only after a while he realised he had managed to pull the whole sentence together, even if his own voice sounded strange to his ears. Ghislain stared at him for a moment, his brows knitted, and then, somewhat distractedly, nodded. Apparently, he didn't feel like arguing, and Josh felt relieved, although his heart was still beating fast, as if he prepared himself for a battle - and it was really so, in a way. He was Joshua... and didn't want to give it up...!
Gathering his thoughts wasn't easy, yet it worked better than just a minute ago, which bode well for this conversation. He didn't want to behave like a complete moron, while staying in a different world than his interlocutor certainly proved him to be one. Yes, he had to focus on the conversation. "You said... that I'm your nephew...?" he repeated, then pointed at the photographs on the table, without any wish to look at them again. "Then, who...?"
"My cousins. I... That was a test," Ghislain replied, averting his eyes again. "You see... For many years, young men would come here and try to convince me they were the person I looked for. Some of them probably didn't mean harm; they simply looked for their family, just like I did... But there were also some driven solely by the profit motive. I learned how to find them out... They would grab the photo of Bastien or Leonard and cry, 'That's my dad!' But you... when you entered... I knew right away it was you," he said awkwardly.
Josh fixed his eyes on him, even though he'd rather keep staring at his mother's picture. "Why...?" he whispered; he couldn't say anything else.
Ghislain looked away again. His hands moved nervously on his lap when he said, "Because you're the spitting image of that man... her husband." Then he added, "Your father."
Something squeezed Josh's chest painfully, gnawing, trying to burst out... He gazed at the photograph... at the picture of the face that could alleviate any suffering. The gnawing sensation receded a bit, but not completely.
Suddenly, he felt there were so many things he wished to learn... there were so many questions...! And he had no chance to even start asking them, for he was too overwhelmed. He kept looking at those smiling eyes, as if they could give him answers.
"Eliane..." he said in a soft voice, and even the name made him feel warm inside. It fitted her; she couldn't not be Eliane. He suppressed the urge to move his fingers over the photograph. "What happened to her?" he asked involuntarily and blinked when the words rang in the air. "Where is she now?"
Ghislain sat in silence before abruptly getting up. Josh heard the clatter of glass and sound of pouring. He thought distractedly that neither of them was prepared for this conversation, and then focused on the photograph again. Suddenly, he was absolutely certain that it was the only way... the only possibility to look at her... to see her - but this realisation was too close to despair and hopelessness, so he forbid himself it. As long as he could look, everything was fine.
Ghislain came back and put a glass of dark liquid on the table before Josh; then he took his place again. In different circumstances, he would have probably asked what his guest would like to have... but now he'd just served him the same drink. For his part, Josh didn't feel like having anything; he knew he wouldn't be able to swallow it. However, the man only toyed with his glass, too... maybe deriving some comfort and support from it.
"I suspect... that your parents are dead," he said without any emotion.
It didn't even hurt - heard from someone else's mouth, although just a minute ago Josh had feared to understand it. Now he remembered it was exactly what he'd assumed for nearly twenty years. If anything, he regretted that such a wonderful - she was wonderful! - person had already passed away.
"I don't know how and where they died," Ghislain continued. "But I know... I know Eliane enough to be sure that she wouldn't have left her child... she wouldn't have left you alone. I have no doubt about it."
Josh stared at him in silence, and this time Ghislain - his uncle? - could bear his gaze. Josh tried to find some resemblance between the two of them, but to no avail. However - he looked at the picture again - he didn't resemble that woman, either. Foolish doubt overwhelmed him, and for a moment he felt it was not him sitting here, only someone else... Gilbert Vallee...?
"My father..." he began, but his throat became irritated, so he cleared it before being able to resume talking. "Who was he?" And now that he started, the words flowed freely, "Why are my parents dead? Why don't I know anything about you? Why didn't you people contacted me earlier? Why do you suddenly enter my life and claim things I had no idea about? Why... Who are you, really?" He realised he was getting hysterical, and pressed his lips tight.
He closed his eyes and attempted to contain himself. He was sure he would start screaming any moment... he, who had just told himself he would remain calm. What had he expected, then? A polite conversation? Now it was obvious there was no chance for it. And, if he was right, Ghislain thought the same.
"Sorry," he uttered hoarsely, trying to overcome the pounding in his head. He didn't want to be considered as someone who gave in to emotion at every little occasion... Well, this occasion could justify him, yet some part of him wanted to retain his dignity in every situation. "I'm sorry..."
"No... it's fine," Ghislain replied; apparently, talking didn't come easy to him, either. "I understand what you feel... I think." He took one sip, and Josh noticed that his hand was shaking when he lifted it.
Quite unexpectedly, he felt some sympathy to that man. It seemed that they both were on the edge... That man maybe even more, for he'd been searching for his relative for twenty years... while Josh, for equally long time, hadn't even imagined he could have any. Having a family still appeared like an abstract to him - but that man had always known about it... expected it.
Ghislain took one more sip and put the glass down, and then he started to speak... to tell the story that was intended for Josh and no-one else. He would often stop, and sometimes he would talk quickly, as if he wanted to get it over with; sometimes he would stumble over the words or clumsily try to find the most suitable ones. And even though he tried to remain calm, emotions would find their expression all the time, making his narration very natural. Those imperfections were the last thing Josh could pay attention to... focused on the content... as much as he could focus, which wasn't easy, for he still felt it was a dream, with most matters escaping his perception.
"We... the Lavaud family..." Ghislain started. "Now it's only me bearing this name. My parents are no longer alive... I have some cousins from my mother's side, but we don't really stay in contact; they live far from here. As you can see, we are..." he vaguely waved his hand, "I am quite well-off. Our family has been dealing in trade for generations, and with a success."
Josh nodded involuntarily, his eyes constantly going to the woman in the picture. His mother. It was the real wealth.
"Eliane and I would grow up in this house. Our mother died when we were in our teens. Eliane is my little sister... two years younger. She was the apple in our father's eyes... or, at least, his pride..." Ghislain said thoughtfully. "Well, I was our mother's favourite, so neither of us felt... disadvantaged."
Josh listened to it with a frown. He had no idea things like that happened in the families: that parents might prefer one child over another... It sounded strange. But if no child was neglected in favour of the other, then it should probably be fine, he decided, although he wasn't absolutely sure.
"In truth, our parents were rather strict and demanded a lot of us, especially father," Ghislain emphasized. "They required us to excel in school and in manners, to behave perfectly well... So both Eliane and I tried to please them, even though we had different characters. As far as I remember, I was always serious and responsible, focused on my goals, so I considered Eliane immature... but I probably regarded her from my viewpoint of a big brother," he admitted with some shame. "In fact, Eliane was a lovely child who wished all the best to everyone around her. And she was loved by everyone, too. She could cheer up others, she would smile all the time, and her happiness was contagious. It seemed nothing could break her, for she was able to see the bright side in every situation. I think that it was the way to hide her sensitivity..." he stated, and his gaze momentarily lost its sharpness.
Yes, Josh thought he could see it in the picture: she appeared both strong and delicate. Josh already admired her to no limits... and he had every right to do so - while Ghislain apparently had troubles with it... or at least he had once had, some twenty years ago. His voice was still distant, guarded - or he tried it to be... but in vain, for he couldn't hold back his feelings. The longer Josh listened to him, the more he came to the conclusion that the man felt guilty. Well, it wasn't anything incomprehensible: if he hadn't treated his sister as she'd deserved it, he might have felt remorseful after her untimely death... but Josh suspected there was more to it and that he would soon learn about it, so he listened with growing attention.
"In the end of high school, Eliane started to go out with a family friend..." Ghislain said, and Josh's heart leapt. "He was a son of our business partner, nice and good-humoured man, with whom she could both discuss various things and just have fun, just like young people do. I don't know if they were in love with each other and planned the future together, but our parents had nothing against it. It lasted for some months but before turning into something more serious, it came to light that Louis simultaneously had an affair with another woman, and a child with her, on top of it. After that, of course, he was forbidden to show his face in this house ever again, our father was really mad... Eliane herself laughed at it and said that apparently they weren't meant for each other... but in reality she must have taken it very hard."
Josh realised he was listening to the story completely absorbed in it already... and feeling for his mother, whom he didn't really know. Well, he would feel for anyone in such a situation... and the most perfect being in the world hadn't deserved that at all. He was absurdly relieved at the thought that double-faced bastard wasn't his father... although, now he noticed it, Ghislain had so far spoken about his father in monosyllables and without any sympathy... Ugh.
"It must have affected her greatly, although nothing indicated that at first," the man continued, and there was that guilt in his voice again. "Eliane was like always... but somehow her behaviour started to change... so slowly it was hard to notice. She would no longer go out as often as before, and instead she would spend more time in her room. She would often feel tired, complain of malaise; finally, she stopped to eat with everyone, saying she didn't feel well. The family doctor didn't find any disease, only decided she was exhausted, and prescribed some vitamins. Well, it was her last year in high school, so she studied a lot, preparing to enter the university. We thought she was simply tired of learning and would improve once all that stress was over," he said, looking at Josh somewhat apologetically. "But her condition would only grow worse, until she couldn't even get up from her bed, she only lay down and hardly ever speak... In the end, instead of final tests, she landed in hospital, diagnosed with-"
"Depression," Josh whispered, making Ghislain give him a surprised look. "I... study psychology," he added, blessing his studies that proved a useful justification of his knowledge without revealing his personal involvement.
His thoughts became muddled again, and suddenly he could grasp only one, 'Depression is often genetic.' It seemed he was a hopeless case, predisposed to it doubly: via genes and via trauma...
He shook his head. What good thinking of it could do now? He fixed his eyes on Ghislain again. He wanted to know more...
"Yes," the man replied with difficulty, although he seemed slightly relieved, too. Could it be that he'd been anxious about telling his nephew that his mother had suffered from depressive disorder? Well, in this particular case, he'd been completely mistaken, for Josh knew depression as well as himself... But it was also true that knowledge filled him with conflicting emotions: on one hand, he felt compassion for her... but on the other hand, he was glad he wasn't the only one suffering from it. "But for our father, it was a hard blow. He didn't understand it. He couldn't accept such a disease... such a treatment in this family, in his family. He always considered... mental illnesses as weakness... maybe even as inventions. Eliane's disease was both shame and disappointment. Blot on his reputation and dishonour..."
"Primitive, egoistic bastard," Josh hissed, not caring that he spoke of the father of the man sitting before him, and late, of top of that. Some behaviours, some attitudes deserved condemnation... There were no mitigating circumstances for them.
But Ghislain, after a while, nodded, although rather hesitantly. He drank his brandy up and put the glass on the table. His hands were shaking. "In any case, he couldn't imagine that Eliane stayed and was treated in Toulouse. She had to be sent away... far from here... and in the end she was admitted to the hospital in another province," ha said quietly, lowering his eyes. "Father practically forbade to speak of her. Eliane was recovering, but it was a slow process. All in all, she spent the whole summer in hospital, and even longer. I... I visited her only once," he confessed in a strangled voice, expression of shame appearing on his face. "That time, I have to admit, I used to share my father's opinion. And even if it was my only sister in question, I treated her with distance... I couldn't understand her problem. You see, we were taught that we should be strong... Never give up or pull back. I thought exactly like my father: that all that was only her whim. That instead of going to university and live like any normal adult, she ran away from responsibility and caused us troubles."
"While, in fact, depression is a disease that requires treatment," Josh replied coolly. If that man expected some sympathy, then he was greatly mistaken. Josh felt no compassion for people who discriminated against others... especially some with mental problems.
Ghislain nodded again... and Josh slightly relented when he realised that his... mother's brother probably regretted his actions. And, maybe, during all those years, had changed his opinion at least a bit. "What happened later?" he asked in a conciliatory manner, although his agitation - due to the fact his mother had been treated that way by her own family - had yet to abate.
After a moment of silence, Ghislain resumed talking, but it seemed to be even more difficult for him. "In autumn, Eliane returned home... but not alone. She was accompanied by a man she'd got to know in the hospital. At first, we thought he was a nurse escorting her home... so that she didn't need to travel all that way alone, for no-one came to pick her up. Father didn't care about her treatment being over, while he should have sent a car... Actually, Tristan was a nurse working there... but he came here in another purpose, namely to ask for Eliane's hand."
Josh felt he went pale. His eyes wide, he stared at Ghislain and whispered without a single thought, "Where was that hospital that... your sister was being treated?" - but he was completely, absolutely certain he knew the answer, and his heart pounded wildly.
"In Sainte-Jeanne, a small town by the border with Esperanto," Ghislain replied. "Tristan worked there... and was dismissed afterwards."
Josh covered his mouth with one hand. Vallee... Of course he'd heard that name only hadn't paid attention to it, for it was very common... But he had heard them spoken by Madame Montagne, not so long ago...! 'Do you know Tristan Vallee?' she had asked. She'd really wanted to ask, 'Are you his relative?' And later Etienne had told him about that scandal, 'A male nurse seduced a female patient.'
Oh my God...! How could it be possible...?! Incredible, no, completely unbelievable, it just couldn't happen - unless he believed in fate. How could it be possible that he'd come exactly to that place? That of all places in France he'd come to where his... parents had met. And that he'd learned about it now, while just a month ago, in Paris, he wouldn't have imagined his life to change like this. All that sounded like a tale... fantasy... fiction right from the start. Such things didn't happen to real people, no...
Yet, at the same time, it was as if only now he believed that everything he'd learned in the last hour was the truth. Tears came to his eyes. 'You're the spitting image of your father.' Madame must have seen it... must have remembered it...! Even if he wouldn't believe that Ghislain Lavaud here, he unreservedly believed Madame. Now there was no going back, there was no other option than accepting that story...
And, paradoxically, the first thought he felt was, 'My poor, poor parents.'
"What... what happened later?" he rasped, wiping the tears with his trembling hand.
"Of course, father refused," Ghislain replied, without noticing his agitation, lost in his own grief. "Eliane was only eighteen... and besides he would have never consented to her marrying a psychiatric nurse... dismissed, on top of it. It was unacceptable, absolutely unacceptable," he said, unconsciously imitating his father's tone. "Then, however, something unexpected happened... Eliane, for the first time in her life, opposed him... and, in the end, father told her to get away. And my sister turned away and did leave. And never... never came back," Ghislain said in a broken voice. "Father prohibited from any contacts with her, prohibited from letting her in, prohibited from answering her calls, and her letters were to be destroyed. In other words, he disowned her. I... couldn't object him... but, in fact, I must have felt that my sister had become someone else, a stranger. That she was no longer Eliane that everyone had once loved. In fact... I rejected her just like our father did."
He covered his face with one hand and took a longer while to overcome his emotions. Josh observed him with his lips pressed tight. Apparently, his ideas of parents as people who always wished for their child's good, were nothing more than fantasy... Still, he didn't plan to accept any other vision. He didn't plan to forgive that. How could they have treated her that way? Was it what a family was for? Suddenly, he no longer wanted to belong to it... he wanted things to become like they had been until now.
Ghislain regained his balance and continued talking, "Eliane would send letters, lots of letters... She didn't want to break a connection, maybe trusted that father would change his mind one day... She must have known he was stubborn, but she probably believed she would be able to win his heart back... However, her letters were destroyed before anyone could read them, just like father had ordered. One of the first was the wedding invitation, that almost gave father an apoplexy. He considered it an offence," he added with anger. "Father died three or four years after those events. For my part, I graduated from university, inherited the company... and realised how empty this house was. It lacked laughter... I became more and more dejected. For some reason, I didn't marry... I haven't found the right woman... No, I didn't even meet any, in a way I kept alone. I only maintained business relations."
For a while, he remained silent before looking at Josh, who listened to this story with conflicting feeling: aversion to that family was fighting in him with compassion for that man sitting before him and telling about his suffering. There was no other option than letting him speak: both for Josh, who wanted to know the truth, and the man himself, for he could spit out emotions he'd been keeping inside for years. Josh thought he was performing a good deed, and winced inwardly; no, he wasn't so pure.
"When father died..." Ghislain clasped his fingers, "I started to call into question some of his opinions, as if I finally became free of his influence. In truth, I had resented him for treating Eliane like that already before, but I couldn't admit it. It took many years for me to realise it: that my grudge against my sister had faded away and that it had been groundless from the beginning... just like my grudge against Tristan, whom I'd blamed for having taken Eliane from us... while it was father and I who had rejected her. One day I made a decision to contact her... invite her back home. Invite her whole family. Eliane didn't even know that father had died. The idea invigorated me, I had more energy, I found a goal and a way to change my sad life, ease my feeling of guilt. I realised I wanted to see her very much. Then, however, I learned that her letters had already stopped coming, and thus there was no address I could look for her at," he added in a lower voice.
Josh stared at him intently and, when the silence prolonged, asked, "But you have... in the end you did learn something, sir?" He didn't feel like calling that man an uncle.
Ghislain nodded, and that tormented expression vanished from his face, replaced by hope; he was reliving what had happened years ago. "It appeared that a human's will can't be strangled so easily..." he said somewhat philosophically. "That there were more people beside Eliane who could act in accordance to their own beliefs. As I succumbed to despair and hopelessness, one of our servants came to me... Hortense, who had taken care of us in childhood, being especially attached to Eliane. I will never forget that moment although over fifteen years passed since then... Hortense, frightened and in tears, prepared for being dismissed right away. handing me one of Eliane's letter, that he'd kept in secret. It could be that moment that I realised how much of a tyrant my father had been, how he had demanded absolute order and hadn't tolerated any objection, only had wanted to dominate everyone around him. I was probably considered as his successor in everything... My reaction must have frightened Hortense even more as I started to embrace her and shout that she'd given hope back to me. But that was really the case," he finished somewhat pompously yet with conviction.
He got up and approached his desk. From a drawer, he took out a sheet of paper wrapped in a plastic foil and gave it to Josh, whose hands trembled. The letter, written in a neat cursive, was dated less than one month before his birth. He looked at the man with a question, and when Ghislain simply nodded, he started to read.
My Dear Ones,
I already decided to write to you after the delivery, but I can't wait, since it's still two whole months! I slowly begin to have enough of Bayonne; winters are rather mild here, but the constant wind from the ocean is simply terrible. I'd gladly move inland, and we've already talked about it with Tristan. Of course, it's not possible now, and we can't really travel with a baby, either. Fortunately, spring is coming, so the weather should become more friendly soon... Well, it's a long time until the next winter, and I'm going to trust it!
Our baby should come into the world in April. I don't know if I prefer a girl or a boy; I think it's not important. I already love this little one, but it's Tristan who has gone crazy over him/her. He stokes my belly every day and 'talks' to him/her, in both languages actually. It's really crazy, isn't it? I want to name the baby Gilbert or Clio, after Father and Mother. Tristan has nothing against it, and I have yet to tell him I wish to give the child the middle name after his parents. Tristan's parents died many years ago... and that's all I know about them, for Tristan is rather reluctant to talk of them. It's a pity that the baby won't have a grandmother...
To tell the truth, I feel pretty well, and I hope a childbirth will go smoothly. My doctor says that I may experience low mood after delivery, but for me it sounds like he tries to scare me. I haven't been needing medication for a longer while, and I feel the happiest person in the world, so I can't really believe it might change after birth; quite the contrary, I think I'm going to score a new record in happiness. But it's good that I have such a caring doctor; I feel I'm in good hands. I don't claim that I don't fear birth at all, but every woman just has to go through it. I even heard that some want to have more and more children, for it's so funny. For my part, I'm going to settle with Gilbert and Clio, for now, and later we will see. I'm not even twenty yet; I'll manage to give birth to many children.
Apart from that, there's nothing new. Tristan works in the city hospital and likes the place. It's quite close to our home. I make correspondence courses. It seems I must postpone my dream of university studies... but I tell myself I'll have time to study later. The family is the most important. Speaking of what, this winter we took in another cat, although it's the maximum in our flat. The cats get everywhere, and I hope they will spare the cot, at least. On the other hand, if our little one won't have any allergy, it shouldn't really do him/her harm.
As you see, my thoughts circle around what is going to happen... but I guess it's rather normal. I wish Mom had been still here; I didn't manage to talk with her about all that. I mean, about becoming a mother. I can only trust that she looks down on me from Heaven and is going to guide me. I became acquainted with some girls in antenatal class, but all of them are primiparas (what a terrible word!) like me, so they can't really support me. Well, at least not in the matter of caring about a baby; as for the mental support, we share it constantly with one another.
Now that I think about it, we don't live in the best place for having walks. To get here, you need to climb a hill... Also, you won't reach the nearest park without the same attraction, so I'm somewhat scared by the vision of running with the pram. Well, maybe it will help me to lose weight faster; I put on quite much during this pregnancy. Tristan says it's just more body to love, but I'd rather like to move more easily; at present, I feel I more roll than actually walk. But I think I end this letter here, for I started to write about silly things, and you already know the most important thing: everything is fine with us.
Greetings to all of you there!
Yours,
Eliane, Tristan, two cats and Clio/Gilbert
Josh realised he was reading that letter over and over again, unable to tear himself from it - just as he couldn't resist the feeling that he really wanted to be that woman's son. But... he was, right? That thought - and thought of her - kept filling him with warmth. She was exactly as full of like as her photograph indicated. Even after an episode of depression and a several months long treatment in psychiatric facility! Every word... every sentence and paragraph showed her incredible energy, free vital force... She was so open and trustful, so honest in her feelings and natural... And brave enough to accept everything that life might bring.
A sudden realisation struck him: They were so alike! In that love had been a salvation for both of them... the best cure. Somewhat irrelevantly, Josh decided he would do anything to win Alain back. He wouldn't settle with Alain's decision; he would fight until the end, whatever it might be. He should follow Eliane's... his mother's example...! He had a long way to become so stable... but he couldn't give up!
He shook his head and tore his eyes of the sheet of paper - he still jealously held it in his hands - to look at Ghislain... He guessed the man had memorised the letter's content long ago. "And?" he asked, resuming the conversation.
"Of course, I tried to contact them, but my letters returned. I had no courage to go there, not right away... Maybe, deep inside, I still thought like, 'Eliane was at fault, but I can forgive her and let her come back'..." Josh frowned and stared at him in disapproval, while Ghislain sighed and shook his head. "However, when I still didn't receive any reply, I swallowed my pride and travelled there. I didn't find them at that address, and no-one could tell me where they had gone to. I learned from their neighbour that they had moved out much earlier... with their little son. The old woman couldn't remember the boy's name, but when I suggested it, she agreed he might have been Gilbert."
He observed Josh, somewhat puzzled, and Josh felt strange. He'd been Joshua all his life; he didn't want to give up this name. His parents had called him Josh! He didn't want to be called Gilbert, especially after the man that had treated his own daughter in such a cruel way...! No, Josh would never consider him a grandfather... and he thought with malice he was glad that man was already dead. He wouldn't like to meet him, never...!
"I returned home empty-handed," Ghislain continued. "Soon after, I made an announcement in the newspaper that I wished to contact them... but to no effect. I received no message. Eliane and her family had simply vanished... and my anxiety grew stronger. I reported it to the police, but they couldn't explain their missing either. Nowhere, in the whole country, there was no Eliane and Tristan Vallee... I mean, they weren't registered in any place. They had disappeared into thin air, along with their child. They could have travelled abroad... The letter indicated," he pointed at the paper in Josh's hands, "that Tristan might have been of foreign descent, so I wanted to follow that lead... but no-one would tell me anything in Sainte-Jeanne. He'd been working there for a short time, and yet he'd managed to cause a scandal; no wonder people had wanted to forget him. I suspected that the head nurse knew more, but her lips were sealed and I couldn't convince her that it was a human's life in question..."
Yes, Josh could imagine that perfectly in case of Madame Montagne - or her possible predecessor, who might have been her master. The head nurses probably were alike, character-wise.
"Interpol provided me with no answers. Someone suggested that I look for my nephew in orphanages... although it meant admitting that my sister was dead," Ghislain said in a breaking voice. "Still, that was better than doing nothing at all... and, as much as my work allowed it, I started to tour such facilities, searching for little Gilbert Vallee. Years passed... and it became my habit. At some point, I probably lost hope to ever find my family... and be able to ask Eliane forgiveness..." he said bitterly. "Then, for many years, in large numbers, various boys would come here, claiming to be Gilbert Vallee... They only added to my despair. And to my feeling of guilt. I still visited the orphanages, maybe treating it as a penance... or maybe I simply had nothing else... it had became my way of life. Besides, desisting from it meant giving up... And I couldn't bear it," he said in a low voice, staring blankly ahead. He broke out of his reverie after a while and resumed talking, "I also visited Esperanto, for it wasn't so far from here, but the result was the same... until I arrived at that town... that you've come from, right?"
Josh nodded. "Yes, Paco," he confirmed, although it wasn't necessary.
Ghislain, however, seemed grateful for that remark. "I learned about the strange accident that had happened many years earlier," he said. "And about the boy that had been found around the same time, with no-one ever coming for him and whose identity had been never confirmed. Well, he had since long left the orphanage, having found a new family. They had no documents, but they did remember that the boy's name was by no means Gilbert," saying that, he stared at Josh with some resignation, and Josh only nodded. "There was no possibility to contact him... I regretted that, for it was the very first so strong lead, especially after I saw... your picture in the newspaper," he said in a quivering voice, and Josh only now realised Ghislain was no longer speaking of just some boy only him. But, well, he had recognised him right from the start... while Josh still didn't know whether he wanted to recognise his... uncle.
The man straightened up and leaned against the backrest. Looking at Josh didn't seem difficult any more. "Of course, I had no idea how you might look," he stressed, "but there was your age and date of birth that fitted. I asked the local police about that accident... and the victims that couldn't be identified." His gaze lost its sharpness again; it could be he was there again, in that small town where everything had changed for him. "It was the first time that I thought that Eliane and Tristan might have really been dead; until then, I'd still had some hope... It was very hard... to realise I would never see my sister again... my sister who had once been very important to me. On the other hand, I knew it would be some relief if I stopped tormenting myself with that... if I accepted they were gone, and stopped searching... for next five, ten, fifteen years... However, I didn't know if I was allowed to do so."
He fixed his gaze on Josh, who was listening to that confession in silence. He didn't feel a right person to judge those internal dilemmas of Ghislain, but he realised at least as much that they were genuine. He had his own, too. He lowered his head and stared at the picture and the letter he was still holding in his hands. Two conflicting feelings fought in him: that he had obtained the most precious treasure... and had lost it.
"What..." he started and licked his dry lips. "What did police say about that... accident? I planned to go there and ask... but now I am here," he added somewhat awkwardly.
Ghislain nodded. "The car fell from the low precipice," he replied in a faked indifferent tone. "The weather conditions were very bad. The driver probably lost control of the vehicle. The tracks indicated they had tried to brake at a longer distance... But the pavement was very damp, and when they left the road, it was really impossible on the muddy ground..." he added in a softer voice.
Josh tried to imagine that. Had he been on that car? Had his parents realised they could no escape death and... pushed him out of the car? He didn't remember... he didn't remember anything like that... And would never know... But if it was the case, he'd been truly saved. They had abandoned him, doing so had hurt him... but they had also given him life, and two times. His throat clenched, and it took him a while to understand he really believed his parents had been in that car... and had died. 'She wouldn't have left you alone,' Ghislain had said about Josh's mother. It wasn't possible that Eliane lived somewhere, aware that her child had been left alone.
"I heard it had happened somewhere... out of the way?" he said, wondering whether he had heard it indeed. But the precipices didn't use to occur in the middle of towns. "What did they... do there?" he asked, knowing he would never receive the answers.
"They might have lost their way... made a wrong turn in the darkness and gone to some wastes. They probably didn't know that place. If they were surprised by a storm, everything might have happened."
Josh nodded absently. His heart clenched with pain, and that earlier thought occurred to him again, 'Poor parents.' They couldn't have been much older than he now; they'd had the whole life ahead of them, and so much happiness in it... Many hardships, too, but that what living meant. Why theirs must have ended so soon? It wasn't even about Josh having been forced to do on his own - he had managed, after all - but about themselves.
He shrunk, remembering another young life that had faded almost before his own eyes... and thought it was so strange that some people chose their own death while others met it against their will. He didn't want to blame Gilles, but now he felt that the boy had acted so foolishly... discarding the chance for happiness, discarding everything. And those who were left had nothing but sorrow and grief...
Well, maybe not only that. Josh thought that maybe they had also some motivation... even greater desire to live... even bigger confirmation that one should care of that gift that had been given only one time. Now he was sure he didn't want to waste that what his parents had probably died for. Maybe it was the whole purpose of all that conversation... Even if it didn't change anything else, it helped him understand this one thing... intensified this one belief. Maybe it made him stronger.
He took a deep breath and then slowly released the air out of his lungs. He was under the impression he had grown up a little during last hour. As if to agree with him, deep inside the house the clock struck five. Josh raised his eyes and realised the sunlight was coming inside through different windows.
"Would you... would you accompany me by the meal... Jo... Joshua?" Ghislain asked hesitantly, having stared at him for a longer while in silence.
Josh wondered how such a prosaic thing like food could exist in this world... and then nodded. "Thank you," he said. However, he didn't move; he kept shifting his gaze between the photograph and the letter, that were nearly as important as his own life.
"You can keep them," he heard Ghislain's voice.
His head snapped when he looked up at the man and then again at those treasures in his hands... and he had to once more wipe his tears. He had no idea whether he cried over his mother... over his father who had died... or he had simply experienced, just listening, too much to be able to grasp it calmly. Reaching wise conclusions was one thing, but being told such revelations on himself was quite another. It would undoubtedly take many weeks or months to get his mind around it... to accept it... to absorb it deep inside. And those items were a tangible proof... a real confirmation for what he'd learned.
"Can I, really?" he asked in a strangled voice.
"Yes, they belong to you," Ghislain replied, and there was some relief to his words.
Josh grabbed his bag and shove the picture and the letter to the envelope with the grandfather's papers. Then, however, his hands froze... to frantically start looking for his childhood picture the next moment. In the end, the whole content of the envelope landed on his lap - as well as the floor, but he didn't care - but he was already holding in his trembling fingers his image from nearly twenty years ago. However, now he didn't look at it only the inscription on the back. His hands shivering, and his heart pounding in his chest, he compared the handwriting with the one in the letter... It was, beyond doubt, the same...! The same neat cursive, the same letter J with a fancy flourish...! His throat clenched with emotion again, and he had to gulp for a while until he managed to calm down. And then, so unexpectedly and for the first time since his coming here, he smiled, feeling extreme joy and bliss. After all he'd heard, if he still needed any proof - and he knew he absurdly did need - now he had it. Eliane Lavaud, later Eliane Vallee, was his mother.
He found his family. His roots. His origin. He was no longer a creature detached from the rest of people. It was a wonderful realisation.
"Is that..." Ghislain's voice broke into his thoughts.
He raised his gaze and looked at the man, as if he saw him for the first time in his life... and then, without a word, handed him the letter and the picture. Ghislain's hands were shaking, too, when he stared at the both items. He returned them after a moment, and Josh noticed his eyes were glistening, yet the man said nothing only nodded. It could be he was too moved to speak, Josh decided, gathering the documents to shove them into the envelope. He forced himself to do it carefully, for the brown paper threatened to tear apart after all that manipulation of the last two days.
Finally, he managed to deal with it and inserted the packet to the bag again. He looked at Ghislain, who had apparently regained his balance. However, if he expected that the man would comment their, now proved, kinship, he was disappointed, for Ghislain got up and somewhat stiffly waved towards the door. "Let's go," he said, and Josh didn't hold it against him, for he didn't feel like discussing their relation right now, himself.
He didn't believe he could swallow anything, yet the meal appeared to be light and very tasty, and he did start to eat. He was very thirsty and drank the whole carafe of water. There were only the two of them by the table in the beautiful dining-room, and they ate in silence. Even though Josh tried not to think about it, his mind wouldn't calm down only was working at full capacity, trying to piece together everything he'd learned. However, it was a futile effort. What he remembered was the names of his parents... and the fact he'd been a longed-for child... loved even before being born, and he believed it had been so later as well. It seemed to him that knowing it healed all his wounds.
He'd lost his parents, long ago. Now he'd got them back. It was a strange order... but he knew he could accept it. He was no longer a man without roots. And... He was old enough to not need parents... not physically. Maybe he still felt like a child - and he probably acted like one quite often, too - but he was an adult. Every day, he built his adulthood and his life, and didn't need to be cared for by older and wiser.
He longed for Alain again - so much that his fingers clenched on the cutlery, and a moment passed until he was able to resume eating. Alain belonged to his present life... and Josh didn't want it to ever change. He couldn't lose Alain. Just like some time ago - when he'd learned that his mother had decided to discard everything in order to be with the man she'd loved - he decided to do anything to regain... to keep... to save his love. It wasn't time to hesitate any more, to torment himself with the question whether Alain still wanted him... Now, when he'd realised again how fragile a man's life was, he desired to live and be happy even more. Parents hadn't given it to him so that he succumbed to despair and depression... that he suffered...!
After the meal was over, they returned to the office - Ghislain seemed to regard it as his safe haven and stronghold, and it was a good place for having a serious talk - and sat down on the couches again. The light of the afternoon was no longer glaring; quite the contrary, it filled the room with softness, gentleness...
"Would you tell me more about yourself, Jo... Joshua?" the man asked; apparently, he'd thought of him as Gilbert for so long that he found it difficult to get used to the new name. Josh couldn't not recognize his effort. "I'd like to know you better."
Josh blinked, but he didn't consider that request an absurd. Still, he didn't feel like launching in the full story - and he intended to keep his personal life to himself - so he started from the dry facts. His childhood in Suno, with grandfather, who had given him a family name. Seven years in Idealo and education in Saint Grollo Boy's School. Graduating from it with honours, which had enabled him to enrol at the University of Paris, where he'd been studying for last two years. The longer he spoke, the more it appeared to him that he could see appreciation in Ghislain's eyes.
"I'm happy to find my nephew a well-educated person. I can also tell that your manners are fine, and you know how to behave. You seem a... polite and intelligent man," he said, although Josh hadn't noticed himself to show a particular politeness or intelligence; to the contrary, he was under the impression he'd been acting like a boor, and his contribution to the conversation had been limited to the concise remarks. "I feared that you might be... a hooligan since you'd lived in an orphanage... and then had been cared by strangers. There's no telling what kind of people you might have gone to. And now I'm not at all disappointed. Actually, I'm delighted and very satisfied."
Josh stared at him in silence, but something unpleasant stirred inside him. Suddenly, he was under the impression that what he'd feared on his way here - that he met people he would find hard to like - was happening now. It was strange, for he didn't even know that man... his mother's brother, yet he knew instinctively Ghislain Lavaud was not someone with whom he would be on the same wavelength. He was someone who had a different system of values and regarded the world and people in a different manner.
The feeling only deepened as Ghislain went on, "Now I no longer feel reluctant to say it to you... I would like you to stay here. I couldn't ask Eliane... although I wanted to do so. I wanted them to live here... your parents and you. Now I can only ask you," he said solemnly. "I realise it's quite sudden... but you are my only relative... And I am yours. I would have nothing against making you my so- my successor. It is unlikely that I will ever have children... and this house is so empty. Now that I finally found you... I'd gladly share this place with you... It belongs to you as much as me. I'll gladly share everything I have with you. I won't have any regrets about it. Not with someone like you," he assured.
Josh observed him closely. If he'd heard such an offer ten years ago... maybe even five years ago... he would undoubtedly have been delighted. But now... Now he was twenty years old and had his own life. Besides, he would lie if he said that the man's way of being pleased him. Ghislain might claim he would accept him without objection... but he said it only now. Because Josh had proved to be 'worth' of his attention. Would he be... was he going to be equally willing to share his... name and fortune - although Josh didn't need either - when he learned more about him? Reason told him he was being too rash, that he was refusing that man a chance, that he was regarding the situation two-dimensionally himself... But it was his life in question, and he never accepted anyone to squeeze him into tight frames of their own expectations and bestow their grace on him only when he fulfilled them. No, the very thought raised an objection in him, so he knew that his answer could be only one. Would he regret it later?
He realised that tension accompanying him right from the beginning of the conversation - that funny feeling under his skin - hadn't eased even for a moment. Ghislain Lavaud wasn't a man that Josh felt comfortable with. Not now. "Mr Lavaud..." he started.
"You don't need to answer right away," Ghislain interrupted him; it was obvious he didn't want to hear a refusal, while he might have expected it, unconsciously. "Think of it as long as you need. Why, I understand you have your studies in Paris... It's important that you graduate, of course..." He nodded, but the knuckles of his clenched fingers turned white.
Josh didn't lower his attentive gaze. For his own convenience, he could deceive that man as long as he felt like - Ghislain was giving him the opportunity himself - but it wasn't in his nature. He would rather once and for all clear up the matter and make his stance obvious. "Mr Lavaud... Thank you for your proposal," he said calmly. "I'm happy you decided to see me as a... family member. And I'm happy that you told me about my mother... about my parents. You've already given me more that I'd ever expected to receive," he said honestly. "I'm truly grateful to you."
Ghislain looked at him with hope, and Josh, in spite of himself, felt guilty at the thought of what he planned to do. Still, being frank was the most important here, even if it could hurt. "However, I haven't come here to become a successor to the name," he said, realising how sharp his words were. "Even less the fortune. I'm satisfied with my life... just as it is. And it contains much more than university, good manners and intelligence... it contains more things, various things, both good and bad. I don't know if you are able to accept them." He took a deep breath. "I'm not cut out for being a heir to the fortune or name... because I won't be able to pass them down anyway."
Now Ghislain frowned, listening to him, and Josh decided he had to get it over with as soon as possible, so he said outright, "I will never have children because I am..." He hesitated. "Because I can be only with men. And there is one man that matters to me more than anything in my life."
He had expected that: a grimace of repulsion on Ghislain's face. So-called good families used to have problems with accepting such things. 'Mom, Dad... what would you feel? Would you look at your child with disgust?' occurred to him. He thought, however, he knew the answer.
He rose from the couch, although he realised he was simply running away - from that new situation that scared him, in a way. From the change he didn't want, so he used the... excuse to avoid it. Staying here would require the effort he didn't want to make, not now... so he told himself he was doing the right thing - although it was 'right' only for himself. For a split second, he was even relieved that Ghislain didn't say, 'I don't mind it at all! You are who you are, and you may stay like that. I want to be your family regardless.'
"I suppose you want to say, 'In that case, get away from here'..." he threw, looking his uncle in the eye. "At least, that is what your expression says... I will get away, for you imagine that I could be in this family only on your terms... right? And that's something I cannot agree to... just like my mother couldn't and made her choice. I think she never regretted having done so."
Ghislain sat in silence, and now there was an anger on his face... but also some uncertainty... and surprise. Josh bowed briefly to him and made his way to the exit, with his head up. He didn't feel any triumph - was there anything he should rejoice at, after he'd rejected his only family? - only peace that he'd stayed true to himself... lofty as it sounded. Besides, he'd done it only with his advantage on mind, which wasn't something to be praised for.
He was by the front door already when Pichet caught up with him; Josh could hear his steps over the humming in his ears, but wouldn't turn back until the secretary was next to him. The elderly gentleman was clearly shaken, and his voice was breaking when he spoke, "Please, wait... Monsieur asks that you leave your address. Please... Please don't leave like that. You are... you belong to the family...!"
Josh stopped and gave him an intent look, "Please, tell Mr Lavaud that I don't need a family that rejects-"
"Joshua, please!" came from inside the house. Ghislain was standing in the doorway of his office... as much as Josh could tell, very agitated. "Please...!" he repeated, his voice resonating in the spacious, empty hall.
They looked at each other over the thirty metres of marble floor - without any words, for those ringing in the air were enough - and then Josh nodded slowly. Something touched his heart, and he dictated the address to Pichet before leaving with the feeling that his life belonged to him... as well as a silent joy that there was still some hope for him as a human being.
After all, kindness was a better choice than pride.
And I wish that I had a mother - Rammstein, "Mutter"