Chapter 11
The next day dawned bright and sunny, as typical of a French summer. For a few moments Matthew simply lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering where he was. Then the reality hit and he sat up suddenly, only to get dizzy and immediately lay back down again. He lay for a while longer, simply contemplating everything. He could hear the birdsong from outside (not that he could identify any of it, ornithology was not a passion of his) and listened to it wonderingly. It wasn't as though he didn't hear the dawn chorus at home, it was often obnoxiously loud and ridiculously early given the street lights making birds wake up in the early hours of the morning. It was just so quiet.
There were none of the sounds of a city that he was used to. No traffic, no bin lorries, no people waking up and sleepily driving to work to start their daily commute. No Al yelling at Dad either, he thought with a smile. Now that was a nice change. He suddenly remembered guiltily that he had not rung or texted either his father, brother or friends, as he had promised. Getting out of bed, he fumbled over the bedside table to find his glasses and slid them on. Picking his phone up from where he had left it, he turned it on, waiting for it to go through the tedious start up sequence.
Predictably, he was bombarded with texts and missed calls as soon as the device woke up. Most were from his brother, asking how 'rad' France was and if he had seen any cool sights yet (he'd only been here less than a day, for goodness sake!). The text from Arthur was rather more polite, simply wishing him well and asking him to ring once he was able, as well as a warning not to let that 'blond frog' pressure him into anything. Matthew checked the time. As far as he remembered, his current location was only an hour ahead of home, so now would be a good time to ring. Luckily Arthur had planned ahead and bought him a new sim card to allow him to make long-distance calls. He hit the dial tone and waited.
It was Alfred who answered, his voice as enthusiastic as ever.
"Mattie! Bro! Dude, how's it going?"
Matthew rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, thanks Al. Put me on speaker, will you?"
Alfred presumably did so, as Matthew heard the sounds of cooking, and muffled swearing. He felt a twinge of guilty relief at the thought that he would, for a while, be spared his father's often failed attempts at cooking. Arthur was actually quite a good cook, but as he rarely had the patience or time to put the effort in, his results were mostly unsuccessful, for the most part.
"Alfred, put that down. This is the breakfast table. Yes, I know it's your homework. Well, you should have thought about that last night when you had time to do it, shouldn't you? Oh, its on speaker. Hello, Matthew. Ignore everything your brother says, it's his own fault he doesn't do his work on time. Anyway, how are you?"
"I'm fine, Dad."
He heard the sounds of cooking and listened with a faint smile. He replied to Arthur's questions patiently, assuring him that he was fine and that Francis and everyone else had been nothing but wonderful. The conversation continued until Matthew heard a faint knock at the door. He turned to see Francis standing in the doorway, looking at his son with a faint smile. Matthew waved his hand.
"I'm sorry, dad, Francis is here. I have to go for breakfast now. My phone will be on all day, so you can ring or text me whenever. Al, remember to get my work for me, please. And be nice to Lovino, he's probably feeling left out. But don't let Feliciano get too worked up about it.
Yes. Yes. You too, dad. Alright. bye." He said goodbye and hung up, putting his phone down and turning to Francis, who smiled wistfully.
"That was your family, oui?"
Matthew nodded. "Yes. I forgot to ring them yesterday, so I had to let them know I was alright, and everything." He looked at Francis apologetically.
"I'm, uh, sorry if it seemed rude."
Francis tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in understanding.
"For using my name, you mean?"
Matthew nodded. "I'm sorry."
Francis shook his head. "Don't be. Artur is your father. I do not expect to replace him, nor would I wish to, at least not yet."
Matthew understood what he meant by that, and thanked him. Francis left the room for a minute to allow Matthew to dress, then showed him to the dining room.
Breakfast consisted of croissants, fresh from the oven, fresh rolls and baguettes a selection of butter and jams. A carafe of water stood on the side, along with juice, tea, coffee and milk. Matthew helped himself to a croissant and sat down. They ate in companionable silence, until Matthew spoke up.
"Um, where is everyone? Are we the first ones up?"
Francis laughed. "Non, Matthieu. Quite the opposite. I let you sleep in because you were tired from the flight and being up so late. Everyone else is up and away already. Although I think perhaps Michelle is not down yet. Honestly, that girl is a mystery to me. Always on her phone or laptop. But I suppose you are the same, oui?" He chuckled ruefully.
Matthew quirked a smile.
"eh, not really."
Francis raised an eyebrow. "Non?"
His son shook his head. "Al lives for all that stuff, but not me. I forget I have it half the time."
Unlike Al, who seemed to spend half his time chatting or posting something and was always sending Matthew anything he found 'totally cool', Matthew didn't really use his phone all that much, just to text and check the news, weather and the few social media sites he had. Hence the slew of messages and missed calls from Alfred and Arthur when he turned his phone.
"Ah, that is good. This culture, it is not good for youth, oui? Too much worry over what your image is. By all means, care for yourself, but try not to let what others think of you affect yourself, Matthieu. No good will come of it, do you understand?"
Matthew realised that the serious words, coupled with the sad look on Francis face, showed that he spoke from personal experience. Once again he felt a rush of emotion for the man who wanted so desperately to be his father. It could not have been easy to return home, dealing with the grief of being widowed and having left his child, no doubt enduring the comments and whispers of his family and others.
He made the effort to smile brightly.
"I won't. I don't really understand all that stuff anyway."
Francis returned the smile. "So you are not in the limelight at school then?"
He shook his head. "No. That's Al's thing. He's loud, but I guess he has a way of drawing people to him. I prefer to stay on the sidelines."
"And clubs? Are you in any teams or anything?"
Matthew relaxed, pleased to be able to tell Francis about the team.
"Yes, actually. I'm on the football team at school. I'm actually glad I'm not playing at the moment."
"Oh?"
Matthew relayed Lovino's situation to Francis. Francis face steadily paled while he was speaking, and when he mentioned the name of the counsellor he was seeing, Francis gasped, then began to laugh weakly. Matthew faltered and stopped speaking.
"eh, is something wrong?"
Francis shook his head absently, still pale.
"It is just a strange world, that is all." Seeing his son's confused expression, he sighed.
"You see, myself and Tonio used to be very good friends. However, we got into some, how should I say, bad company. We were to be sent to what I think you would call a juvenile centre. It was only for the efforts, and I have to say money, of Pére that I escaped a harsher sentence. Of course I was given the beating of my life for it, but I never forgot that I was incredibly lucky. Tonio and Gilbert, of course, did not have the connections I did, and so they spent several years there. I am not sure what Gilbert did with his life. I contacted him when you were born, of course, but I do not know where he is now. It is a shame, that we lost touch. I blame myself, of course. I should have helped more. But that is the past. Tonio had regretted his actions, and I have to say it was in large my fault for encouraging him. He used his time to study, and I believe he moved back to Spain after completing his course.'
He looked at Matthew tentatively, as if unsure. Matthew levelled his gaze, his face curious. Francis continued.
'It was in part because of him that I finally decided to contact you. We had kept in occasional contact with each other, you see. When he told me that he had been contacted by an old friend of his who's grandson was having trouble at school, I was reminded of the son I had left. By this time Maman's health had already begun to turn, and I decided to look into finding you. When I finally gathered the courage to contact your aunt, I learned that not only were you safe and well, but at the very same school that Tonio was due to begin teaching at. It very nearly made me regret everything that I had decided, but it seemed so much like fate that I thought it was God's way of allowing me to atone for everything I have done. And now you have told me Tonio's, and of course your friend's -Lovino, is it?- side of the story. It truly is a miraculous world we live in, non?"
Matthew could only nod in agreement. It was a remarkable set of coincidences, indeed. He gasped as he remembered something.
"You said you had lost contact with Gilbert, right?"
Francis nodded, hope coming to his eyes at Matthew's questioning tone.
"Well, when I told Lovino about you, he said he already knew. I thought it was because his brother had told him, since they're twins, but it turns out he had met Gilbert at a café outside of town at home. He said he told him the same thing you told me, that you had almost been sent to juvenile prison, and about Mr Carriedo majoring in psychology. Lovi said the reason he knew gilbert meant me was because he said Gilbert remembered you calling him and telling him he had a son named Matthew. Apparently he guessed it was me because I have a brother the same age as me and my mother is American. The similarity seemed too much to be a coincidence, so he realised Gilbert meant me. And to top everything off, his younger brother is our football coach."
Francis looked confused. "Younger brother? Gilbert does not have a younger brother. He is an only child."
Matthew thought for a moment. "Well, Coach Beilschmidt is in his first year of college, so I think he's nineteen. If Gilbert is the same age as Mr Carriedo, then he would be, eh,.." he stopped, wondering. Francis supplied the answer.
"I was seventeen and them a year younger when we…parted. I am 37. They would be 36. So he has a little brother? Mon dieu, but they must be almost twenty years apart!" His face fell into a thoughtful expression.
"Now that I recall, his parents were incredibly young. I think perhaps that is part of the reason he fell so readily into the wrong crowd. There was a lack of parental influence at home, I think." He smiled ruefully. "Of course, I cannot say the same. What right have I to criticise?"
He fell into reflection, staring out of the window with a strange expression. Matthew sat in silence, not knowing what to say.
They were interrupted by a light knock on the frame of the door. Michelle walked in, wearing a bright red top and light cream-coloured slacks, partnered with little red flats. She walked over to the side table and picked out a baguette, then poured herself a coffee. She walked over to sit at the table, looking curiously from one to the other.
"Are you alright?" she asked lightly.
Francis came back to himself, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "oui, everything is fine, Cherie. Matthieu was telling me about his school, were you not, Matthieu?"
Matthew nodded, instinctively knowing that their conversation was not for her to hear. She turned to him curiously.
"Oh? Tell me! How is it like in England? Does it rain all the time like on the TV?"
Matthew smiled. They fell into easy conversation, discussing the differences in their respective schooling systems. Matthew could not understand her grade system, while she found it horrifying that they spent the whole of the week in classes, although marvelled at the fact that they did not have to go to school at weekends, unless for clubs or events. Francis excused himself to go and get ready, leaving the two chatting.
He came back down to find them washing up together, Matthew handing plates to Michelle to put away. She was hopping up and down the wooden stepladder, plates balanced carefully in her hands. She turned to see him standing there and hopped down with a rueful expression.
"Sorry, uncle."
Francis waved a hand at her. "Just be careful. Mattieu, are you ready to leave soon? We will have to hurry to be in the city by 11."
Michelle looked at him wonderingly. "You're going into the city? Can I come?"
Matthew turned from the sink, drying his hands on a tea towel. "I, eh, was actually hoping you would. See, I'm meeting up with someone I met on the flight over here. His name's Carlos, he's in Paris to study the architecture as part of his photography course. He's from Cuba."
Michelle grinned. "He sounds cool! Can I come, uncle?"
Francis nodded. "Certainment, cherie. I will hang back, I would not want to interrupt you youths. I will meet you at the tower for lunch, oui?"
She nodded. "Merci." She ran out of the room, presumably to grab her bag and jacket. Matthew turned to his father.
"I just have to get my bag and stuff."
Francis waved him off. "I will go and start the car. Please be ready in ten minutes, Matthieu." Matthew nodded and went out of the room to collect his bag and phone.
The excitement built as the car journey towards the city. Matthew couldn't quite believe it. I'm actually going to Paris!
His phone buzzed with a text.
C: Hey bro. You still on for 11?
Matthew smiled.
M: Yes. We're on our way in now. I can't believe I'm actually going to see Paris!
C: It's a great city. You coming with anyone? Don't want you to get lost before we meet!
M: Yes, my dad's driving me and my cousin in. She's the same age me, I think you'll get on well. Her name's Michelle.
C: Fine by me. See ya soon, bro!
Matthew replied with a smiley face, then sat back with a matching grin of his own. Soon he would be in the one of the most famous cities in the world, the city of love. Most people dreamed of seeing it at least once during their life, and here he was about to see it for free. He stared out the small window in anticipation, eagerly watching for the first glimpse. He couldn't stop a gasp when he caught the first sight of the Eiffel Tower, growing steadily larger on the skyline.
Michelle and Francis shared a look. To them, of course, it was normal, just a familiar sight. But there was something wonderfully gratifying about seeing the look of amazement on the face of someone seeing it for the first time.
"Excited, Matthew?" Michelle teased.
He turned to look at her, his face alight with amazement. "Excited! It's the Eiffel Tower! For real!" he laughed softly.
"I am glad you like our city, Mattieu. I assure you, it is even finer up close." Francis didn't take his eyes from the road, but couldn't stop a smile spreading across his face at his son's enthusiasm.
Matthew's eyes only grew wider as they approached the city. Once Francis successfully found a parking space on one of the narrow streets, they got out of the car. For a long moment, Matthew simply stared at everything in front of him. It was exactly as he had imagined. The narrow, cobbled streets, lined with shops of every kind.
He took a few steps forward, then turned back, a huge grin on his face. "I'm in Paris! I'm actually in Paris!" he gushed.
Michelle laughed and took his arm. "Ok, tourist, that's enough. This way. You can marvel as we walk. Don't want to keep your friend waiting, ok?"
Matthew sobered up a little, nodding. "I'd better text him to say we're here." He took his phone out and sent a quick text. It chimed a moment later.
"He says he'll meet us at the column by the tower." He looked up. "That's close, right?"
Michelle nodded. "Yes. Come on then!"
Matthew nodded, still grinning. Michelle threaded her arm through his – "So you don't get lost, silly!"- and, with a promise to Francis to meet back in a few hours, they were off.
Francis watched them go, a wistful look on his face. "Ah, to be that young again." He smiled as Matthew turned around again to wave at him, then set off.
A/N
A few points here. One, I apologise to anyone from France. Your school system is very strange to a Brit, though. On that point, the setting has now been finalised as England, which is why the flight only took an hour. If anyone wants clarity on the British school system, I'll include details later.
Two, the chateau is loosely based on the real (although far more elaborate) Château de Rambouillet, located just over an hour southwest of Paris. However, I have to admit I've never been outside of the UK, so the details might not be correct. Google maps is by no means an accurate resource, but it's all I have.
On a side note, I do not currently have a beta for this or Love and Lightning. If anyone is able to, please let me know. If not, please consider reviewing to let me know whether you like it or not. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!