Gastien Pt 1 (16 page)

Gastien nodded. “
Oui
. I sure do realize that. I really am just off a turnip wagon, I know, but I do have some common sense!” They both laughed. “Actually, I am pretty sure that some days I won’t sell a thing. There is lots of competition around here! People probably get impatient with young artists asking to draw or paint them. I am strongly considering having only soup every night from this money. That way, I don’t have to go completely without food again for several days.”

“That is a good plan. Not very filling, but very smart,” agreed Mic. He brightened. “Well, at least you will have stimulating company. I will join you every night that I can. We will talk about painting!”

“Oh, I would absolutely love that!” Gastien said excitedly. “But you don’t have to spend so much time with me. I know that you must have other
amis
.”

“Well, they will be joining us. I can’t just bore you to death with my same old stories. I will be introducing you to other students I go to school with.”

Gastien could not believe his luck. Even on the nights Mic worked he would have others to talk art with! Could life get much better? Of course, that was assuming he would sell enough to eat each night. He supposed some nights he would go without.

The conversation came to an end. Gastien sat there with a twinkle in his eye. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Gastien was fairly bursting to tell Mic about losing his virginity. Mic could sense Gastien’s desire to talk.

“Ok, Gaz…you are dying to tell me something. So spill it. Don’t tell me it gets even better or I might become jealous. Did you sell another drawing, too?”

“Ummm…no…better than that…” Gastien looked like a cat that had just lapped down a full bowl of cream.

“What could be better than – ” Mic's mouth dropped open. “Oh
mon Dieu
! You lost your virginity! That is the only thing I can think of that is better! You devil, how did you manage to accomplish that on the same night? Who did you seduce with those big eyes?”

Gastien looked at him, the smile growing bigger and bigger. Finally, he stated casually, “Oh, you know. The usual, I guess. Twins.” He could contain the full out grin no longer.

Mic barked out a laugh. “What? TWINS???? You??? I mean, I know you are good looking…but who is lucky enough to have sex with twins, especially the first time down the road? How did this happen? You must give me details!”

So Gastien told him a little about it, but he did withhold any information on who exactly these girls were or where they lived. He was not a cad. To kiss and tell would not make him popular with women. After listening to Gastien, and commenting back and forth on it, Mic said, “Well, you have had enough fun to last a while. Now it is time to get to work. Let me set up, and then you can watch and listen. After awhile I will turn the canvas over to you, so try not to daydream about twins!” Mic clapped Gaz on the back, smiling.

Gastien looked at him seriously. “Mic, I will never put anything ahead of my art. You have to know that. I am so grateful to you for this! I will be the best student I can be, you have my word.”

“I know you will, Gastien. Don’t worry, something tells me you won’t need much except a few pointers and then lots of practice. Let’s get going.”

Mic got set up and started to explain things about the paints, glazes and other techniques. Some of it was familiar, because Gastien had been reading the painting book. He watched carefully as Mic began demonstrating different things to him.

Soon it was time for him to take the brush.
Mon Dieu,
he was nervous! His hand shook. Mic placed his hand on Gastien’s. He squeezed it gently and said softly, “Don’t be nervous, Gaz. It is just me. You have it, I know it. Most importantly, you know it.” Mic paused. Then he whispered, “Use the brush like you used your other tool last night. Master it. Make it speak for you, create for you.” Gastien closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. “Feel it, Gaz? The brush speaks to you. What it says to you will be different than what it says to me, but it will talk. And you need to talk to it. Talk to the paints, too. Become one with them. Just let it happen. You do it with charcoal, this is no different. You will just achieve greater results.” He took his hand off Gastien’s. “Make love to the paints now, Gaz.”

Mic was almost afraid to watch. In reality, many could not make the transition from drawing to oil painting. He hoped his intuition was right, that Gastien was going to be as good as he suspected he was going to be. If he was wrong, how was he going to break his new friend’s heart by telling him he would not make it? Competition was stiff. Paris was the art capital of the world! Artists and would be artists arrived or left every day. Many died here impoverished, never selling a thing. Mic stepped back, holding his breath.

Gastien grasped the brush in his left hand. All of a sudden it became part of him. He did not will it, it simply was meant to be. It was like that part of him had always been missing. Finally, at long last, here it was! Gastien was no longer afraid. Unsure of what he was doing, but not afraid. He listened to the voice in his head. That voice was older than creation itself, and it was telling him that it was time. He was simply an instrument for that voice, the force that creates. He dipped the brush in the paint and started. Mic had begun a park scene, painting in the trees and fountain. Gastien now began to add a person…then another. One could not tell they were really people yet, but as he added different colors and tones they began to take shape.

Mic found that he had a lump in his throat. He was very moved by what he was watching. This boy was truly gifted! Sure, his painting was rudimentary, but how he was doing it, where he was going, were things that lessons did not teach. He could see that Gastien had already felt that deep relationship between an artist and their tools. Mic knew that soon his friend would be making beautiful love to those paints. He kept silent, not wanting to break the spell. When people walking by slowed down, Mic waved them away quietly with a kind smile. He did not want Gastien interrupted. Not so soon. Gastien needed time to build that relationship with his tools, to cement the bond. He needed to live and breathe the paints.

After about an hour, Gastien stepped back. Looking at his work, he felt it was not great, but he did not think it was awful, either. He turned to look at Mic. “Mic? “ That was all he dared to ask.

Mic nodded. Then he broke out in a grin. “Gaz, I think you are going to make it!
Fils de pute
, I think I have met someone who is going to be much, much better than me! Good job, Gaz. Great start!”

“Not bad, is it? I mean, I know it is not sellable by a long shot. I know I will probably make a mess of glazing and stuff for awhile…but it is there inside me like I said, isn’t it. Now I just need to practice. A lot!”

“We will see to it that you do, too. We will use and reuse this canvas for the next several times. Moving forward, you will be painting the whole time, with me giving you hints when either of us thinks you need them. You did a great job this first time! Now, let’s fold up shop and get some soup. I want to hear more details about those twins!”

“The twins? I thought we were going to have a serious discussion about art!” Gastien said coyly.

“Are you out of your mind? You just spent several hours between the thighs of twins! I am your best
ami
, and we are both young men. You can’t hold out on me, Gaz! I need to hear more!”

“Well, ok, but you had better be prepared to give your hand a good workout when you hit the sack tonight,” Gastien teased.

“Don’t you worry about that, Gaz. Just give me the fuel for the fire!” They both were laughing as they walked to a restaurant for their meager dinner of soup and perhaps one
baguette
.

The next few days were spent with Gastien reading his painting book and drawing in the mornings through early afternoons. After that, he would paint on the practice canvas under Mic’s watchful eye. He also tried several times to sell different drawings. He sold a few for very small amounts of money. All money was welcome. He was turned down regularly, too. Gastien just kept trying.

Soon it was Sunday, the day that he was to meet Mic at
Le Procope
to learn how to be a proper waiter. Gastien stood at the mirror in the church.
Mon Dieu,
he looked shaggy. His facial hair was growing out quickly. As for his hair, it had been time for a haircut before he had left home. At least he could be somewhat clean. He washed his face and neck, his underarms. It would be wonderful if he could bathe. It was a little too cold to bathe in the river now. He used his tooth brush and rinsed his mouth. Mic told him to wear the same clothes he had worn all week, because he would probably get food on them.

When he arrived at the restaurant, Mic was waiting. Gastien was introduced to the chefs and other kitchen help, along with a few other waiters. He would be “practicing” in an area that was not used during this time of day on Sundays, as people generally ate at home as a family then.

The head chef looked at him critically. Then the chef asked Mic, “Why are you bothering to train him? You know
Monsieur
only hires experienced waiters. This boy does not stand a chance!”

Mic did not agree. “He will be experienced by the time I am done with him. I will be leaving in four months. I know how much the owner likes me. He will value my recommendation.” The cook still looked doubtful. “Look, if Gastien proves he can’t do it, I won’t recommend him. I would not do that to the restaurant. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. What can it hurt? He needs the job badly.”

“So do a million others,” grumbled the chef. He looked again at Gastien. Gastien held his gaze and refused to look down. He smiled at the chef. “Actually, I am not as bad as you might think. I will be a quick learner and a hard worker. I worked twelve hours a day many days on the farm. This will be a breeze.”

The chef looked harder at him. The young man was scruffy but very handsome. If he could learn how to serve without being clumsy, he might be good for business. Women did not come in to restaurants alone, but they did come in with boyfriends and husbands. A man with looks of Gastien’s caliber might cause them to select
Le Procope
even more often. He returned the smile. “Fine. I will reserve judgment until you have had a while to learn. You might make a good team member after all. Just expect to work hard! Oh, and keep your hands from stealing food! We have too much of that here.
Monsieur
will tell you what you can and cannot have for free.”

“I don’t expect anything for free, but thank you for giving me a chance to prove myself.”

With that, Mic grabbed a tray. He piled it with platters and drink ware. Then he showed Gastien how to shoulder it. “Now you try it,” he said. Gastien took the tray and the glasses swayed. “Wait!”said Matt. “Let’s fill them with water. That way they won’t tip as easily and the weight will be more realistic, too.”

 Once that was done, Gastien tried again. He picked up the tray, hefting it up to his shoulder. Immediately, one glass tipped, dousing him with water. At least it did not fall to the floor and break! The cook guffawed, Mic was trying not to laugh. Gastien was embarrassed. Suddenly, he looked at both men and could not help it. He started to laugh, too. All three of them roared, cutting the tension. He tried it again, this time with success.

Over and over again that day they practiced the skills of serving. Mic had him lifting trays, taking orders, serving imaginary patrons, removing plates from tables, all while those “imaginary” people were still there. He was clumsy at first, but he got better. At the end of the day, both the chef and Mic agreed that he had made some good progress.

“Now we will just have to practice for an hour or so every Sunday to get you polished at it. In the meantime, you will take menus with you. I have already indicated with paint which wines go with what foods. The brand name is not as important right now as the type of wine. Brand names will vary from restaurant to restaurant, but the types of wines will remain the same. You will need to know which wine goes the best with different types of dishes. Study these menu’s this week. Next Sunday you will be recommending wine.

He turned to the chef “I know you have a personal stash of wines.” The cook looked offended and started to protest. “
Non
, don’t deny it! I could care less if you drink. But, next Sunday, will you please let Gastien sample a small amount of each? He needs to know what each type of wine tastes like in order to know why they go with the dishes they pair with. Just a small sip of each. I don’t want him drunk. I need him sober, so that he is able to practice serving. He will also do an oral wine and food matching test.”

The chef thought a moment and then said, “
Oui
. Sure, I will do that for him. Just don’t mention to
Monsieur
that I have a bottle of each back here!”

“You think he does not know, you rascal?” Mic asked. “He knows. We all do. If you weren’t such a damn good chef, you would have been gone long ago. I think
Monsieur
feels it is a small price to pay for the amount of people who come back for your delicious fare.”

The chef looked surprised that everyone knew. He accepted it in good humor, looking at Gastien. “Nice to meet you, Gastien. I don’t know if we will ever work together, but I hope you succeed in finding a serving job. Mic tells me you are an artist and want to succeed there. That is tough. But, nothing is easy that is worth doing.” He put out his hand.

Gastien shook it. “
Merci
.”

Things went on like that for a few weeks. Gastien passed his oral wine test from Mic, and was getting better at serving. He was selling a few drawings here and there, but not much. Many days all he had was a bowl of soup at the end of the day. His clothes were getting a bit loose on him. Still, he had a place to sleep, to keep his supplies and one “meal” a day, he reasoned. Things could be much worse. He was thankful for what he had.