Gastien Pt 1 (19 page)

As the morning progressed, Gastien found himself using his best sales skills. Time after time he was turned down. Every so often, though, someone would buy. What they paid for a drawing he had already done, or for a quick sketch, should have made them ashamed. Gastien did not show any disappointment. He could not be fussy. He needed whatever he could get for money. However, he did not sign the drawings. He decided that if people were going to pay next to nothing then they would not benefit later, should his art become valuable. It was one small way that he could protest the paltry way people treated street artists.

Soon, Mic would be on his way. Gastien had sold two of his drawings and had done one drawing for a woman. The money paid for these three drawings would buy one bowl of soup and a small piece of cheese. He refused to let that depress him, though. He needed to stay focused.

Mic noticed Gastien with his tote by his side and his tarp on his back. He immediately got a sick feeling in his stomach. Gastien must have gotten kicked out of
Notre Dame
! He hurried over, his eyes questioning.

“Mic. Needless to say, what you are thinking has indeed happened. I got found out last night.”

Mic sat down next to Gastien. “How did it happen?”

Gastien told Mic about arriving at the cathedral and finding his belongings gone. Mic sucked in his breath, feeling the pain of loss, until he remembered that Gastien did have his belongings now. Mic listened as Gastien told him about Father Fournier’s kindness.

“The Father was truly a man of God. I am so glad he is the one who “discovered” you,” breathed Mic.

Gastien laughed nervously. “
Oui
. This is awful, but at least I was fed, given warm clothing and money. Things could have been much worse.”

“Now you will have money for at least a month. You will eat. But where will you stay? I wish to God I could allow you to stay with us, but I can’t risk all of us being kicked out of school. I am almost graduated from there, Gastien, I can’t take that chance. Nor can I expect my roommates to! I just can’t!” Mic said sadly.

Gastien put his hand on Mic’s shoulder. “Mic, don’t beat yourself up about it. I fully understand, believe me. I would do the same in your shoes. You are already doing a whole lot for me. I don’t expect you to take me in. Understand? We are good here.”

Mic met his eyes. “Gastien,
merci
. I just wish things were different.”

“Hell, me too, Mic. For starters, I wish we were both rich and famous!” They both smiled. Gastien paused, and then said, “If I may ask one more thing of you, it would really help. There may be a good reason that you can’t do this, but I am wondering if I could just keep my art supplies at your place. That is all. If I could have a safe, dry place for them that would be a huge worry off of my shoulders. Then I could just worry about food and shelter for me! Is that a possibility?”

Mic took only a minute to consider it. “You know, I think that would work. I don’t see any harm in you keeping supplies there. As a matter of fact, I was going to tell you that starting tomorrow I think you should be painting on your canvases, for real. You have practiced enough. It is time to start getting serious. Having your supplies at my place is much closer and easier than at
Notre Dame
! You can pick up what you need in the mornings, then deposit them back at my place at night. I will get a key made for you. I trust you and the guys will trust you, they have met you. Some are jealous of your talent, but they are not mean spirited. I think they will be fine with it. Just make sure you knock before you enter, because…well…” Mic looked over at Gastien with a small smile on his face.

“Oh! Sure. I get it. In case any of you has made plans to “entertain” in there during that time. I have a feeling it will be a long time before I get that lucky again.”

Mic punched him in the chest. “Well, most of us will never get lucky enough to roll around in bed with twins! So that evens the score a little I would say!”

They both laughed. Gastien stated, “Point made, but let’s not think about that night right now. I need to think clearly, and my
bite
gets in the way of doing that when I allow myself to think about those twins.”

“Agreed. Do you want to practice some?”

“
Non
, actually, I want to take the money Father Fournier gave me and go to the art store. I am going to use it for canvas and other supplies. You would know quantities I need to get through the next three or four months. Will you come with me?”

Mic looked at Gastien as if he were insane. “Well, sure I would come with you…but surely you are not going to spend that money on supplies instead of food! Gastien, it is winter time! You need food more than you need to paint!”

Gastien remained firm. “Quite the opposite,
ami
. I need to paint more than I need life itself. Without my art, I am nothing but a transient waiting to die. There is no other way. I will find food.”

“But how, Gastien? Surely you are not going to steal!”

“
Non
, I won’t steal. I did sell a few things today. If I told you what I was paid, you would go after those customers and have them arrested for theft! But, I will do that as much as I can until I look so awful people won’t buy from me. Hopefully, by that time it will be closer to when you will be leaving the restaurant and they will hire me.”

“Gaz, that is two and a half months from now! Where will you paint in the cold? December and January can have snow. You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Mic.

“I am dead serious, Mic. I will sell enough that I survive. I will also find places to paint and sleep. Don’t you worry about it.

“And if you don’t sell anything during January, after the holidays? How long do you think you can go without food?”

Gastien looked at Mic somberly. “Mic, there are always the restaurant garbage bins.”

“Oh, Gaz,
non
! Surely not!” protested Mic.

“I hope not, too. But I will do what I have to do in order to survive until I can find a job and get a room somewhere. I know the amount of food that is wasted in those restaurants. I am not above digging for a meal.”

Mic could see that Gastien was not going to be talked out of buying supplies, so they went to the art supply store that Gastien had bought from the first time. The owner was glad to see him again. Both he and Mic made sure that Gastien got as much as he could with his money. He was well stocked by the time he was done.

Next, they went and had a key made. Gastien did not allow himself to think about how he would be faring next month or even that night. He was just glad he had supplies and a safe place for them. After everything was hauled in, Mic showed Gastien again how to stretch and prime a canvas. They got to work, getting a dozen stretched and primed. That would make it easier to just pick up a canvas and paint. As more canvas was needed, they would work together to get another dozen ready.

The three other young men who shared the room were nowhere to be seen. They would mostly be in classes in the mornings when Gastien arrived. Afternoons were taken up with employment. Unless Gastien came before 7am or after 7pm he would most likely not run into anybody.

“Please tell the guys I really appreciate this,” said Gastien. “I know this takes up some valuable room!”

“Sure. We generally keep our stuff in the classrooms anyway, just taking out what we plan to work on that night. You are good here. Still, I will tell them you said
merci
.”

 Gastien still had money from the past few days’ sales. “Mic, I wonder if I should eat a bowl of soup tonight, or wait until tomorrow night, since I ate so heavy this morning. I am not sure which is wiser.”

“Well, I think that if you wait until tomorrow night that will make you even hungrier. At least put a bowl of soup in your stomach tonight, so that it will not have been a full day and a half by the time you eat tomorrow night.”

“Do you want to go have soup somewhere cheap?”

“Let’s go!” And off they went. Gastien was thinking that there would probably be days coming up when he did not have the choice of eating soup or not, that it would be a not. He would face that when he came to it. Right now, he just wanted to have a friend to talk with, in order to keep the night from coming for as long as possible. He refused to think about where he would sleep.

As far as what Mic was thinking, well, he was worried about where Gastien would sleep, too. He knew that people died in the alleys. He also knew that if Gastien lived on the streets and somehow survived until Mic was ready to leave the restaurant he would not look like someone the owner of
Le Procope
would hire. Mic had some pull in getting a person hired because the owner liked and respected his work ethic, but he could not move mountains.

Le Procope
was one of the treasures of Paris and many wealthy people ate there. He was really worried that Gastien would not be considered at all. He would still be inexperienced, even though trained. Gastien would look awful, smell worse. The reality was that Gastien had almost no chance at the job if it came to that. He could not tell Gaz that, no matter what. He could not crush the thin strand of hope that Gaz was desperately holding on to. Without hope, Gastien would not make it through the winter.

They sat at a table in a small bistro, making their soup last as long as possible. By the time they were halfway through, the three roommates had joined them, along with a few others. Talk was about art and females, lasting well into the night. The bistro was not too busy. Therefore, no one hurried them along. Eventually, people started heading out. Sleep was needed before classes or work tomorrow. Soon it was just Mic and Gastien again.

“Mic, let’s pay for our soup. You have classes tomorrow, too, and you work tomorrow night,” said Gastien.

“
Oui
, I hate to leave you, but I do need to get some sleep. I have a very long day tomorrow. I will see you the day after at two o’clock.” He tried to make it casual.

Walking out, Gastien turned to Mic. “See you soon Mic. Don’t worry!” He quickly turned and walked away.

Mic wanted very badly to call out to him, asking him to come stay with them…but he could not chance all of them being expelled. His heart broke as he watched Gastien walk down the street. Where in God’s name was his
ami
going to sleep tonight?

Gastien walked aimlessly for about an hour, wondering where he could go. He remembered that there was a small church in the 6
th
, so he headed back in that direction. It was cold out and would probably get colder before morning. He should have put on his sweater before he had left the restaurant! But, how could he unfold his tarp and dig around for it in there? Gastien sighed. Even something as simple as putting on more clothing was going to be difficult.

When he got to the church he was pleased to find it unlocked. He stepped inside and looked around. Not seeing anyone, he went into the worship area, rummaged through his tarp, and found his sweater. He put it on, then his coat again. It was not cold enough for extra socks or glove liners. He got out both blankets and sat down, wrapping himself in them. He pulled a prayer book from the back of the pew in front of him, opening it. Hopefully if anyone came they would think he had been reading and fell asleep.

All of a sudden he was being shaken. “Wake up! What are you doing in this church this time of night?” Gastien stared into the eyes of the resident pastor.

“Sorry,
Monsieur
, I guess I fell asleep while reading,” Gastien started.

“Humph. Likely story. Move along. This is not a flophouse for vagrants,” the pastor said roughly.

“Do I look like a vagrant?” challenged Gastien.
Mon Dieu
! He was cleaned up! “Exactly how do you determine that I am a vagrant?”

“Look,” the pastor said tiredly, “People don’t come in here after Midnight to read or pray. You have a tarp full of whatever crap it is you carry with you, and you are wrapped in blankets. I don’t have time to argue. Please leave! Don’t come back!”

Gastien slowly put his blankets in his tarp, getting up to leave. “I am leaving. I am sorry that I took up your time. I imagine you are quite busy praying to that God of yours. You know, the one that, supposedly, you are emulating.”

“We can’t have every homeless person in Paris sleeping in our church. It looks bad.”

“I see. I guess it looks much better to have an empty church! Why help someone out that has no place to go?” Gastien shook his head in disgust. “I might be homeless, but I am not stupid. I seem to recall that your Jesus had compassion. Maybe you should work on that.”

Gastien stepped back out into the night. Well, at least he got his sweater on! He looked around for a place to sleep. He finally decided to lay down behind a dumpster, next to a restaurant. There was a good space between it and the wall of the building. He got his older blanket spread out on the ground. Lying down, he covered himself with the other one. If he curled up, he might stay warm. Pretty soon he fell into a fitful sleep.

Gastien woke up to a pair of eyes staring at him. Oh my, someone’s cat is prowling around the alleyways, he thought groggily. All of a sudden he noticed four or five more pair of eyes. Sitting up, he realized that he was covered with half a dozen good sized rats, the size of house cats. Gastien yelled and jumped up. The rats scattered. Hurriedly, he gathered his blankets, running from the area. He felt sick to his stomach.
Mon Dieu,
those rats were huge!

He learned a valuable lesson that night. No matter how good of a spot there is between a restaurant dumpster and a building, you don’t sleep there. The rats owned the dumpsters at night. He was lucky he had not been bitten. Smelling fresh meat, the rats would not have been above taking a few exploratory bites out of him. He sat on a bench and inspected his clothing for rips. They had not gotten to him. Thank God! He knew the diseases that rats carried.

There would be no more sleep for Gastien that night. He was too tense after that near miss. He sat huddled on the bench, a lonely figure in the night all alone, waiting for the sun to come up. When it did, he made his way to the public outhouse to relieve himself. Already the privy was almost full to the brim. It stank so badly that he retched. He decided that from now on he would use the river or the alleys. He was sure his would not be the only human waste going into alleys and the river Seine.