A thousand French kisses

Chapter Two

I have been on planes before, not once, not twice but I have never felt this sick in one. I'm guessing my mom noticed because she placed her palm on my forehead as if to check my temperature. I loved the times when she remembered she was a mother.

It was some how unfortunate that I only had one younger sibling, if I had two, I wouldn't be sitting next to a stranger and trying not to come out as rude. I had my earphones on, with the sound blasting into my ears at full volume. I had prepared myself already for this flight : downloaded movies on Netflix, new songs on my Spotify to keep me curious, Sally's drum tracks to listen to and a fashion magazine although my fashion sense included a baggy shirt and a pair of shorts. Mom and my brother sat at the seats at the back so it meant if I ever needed something to eat, she was right there to provide it.

The flight attendants seemed as irritated as I was but they seemed so used to it that the smiles plastered on their faces felt so real but I knew no one would feel comfortable having to attend to people who didn't respect other people's spaces. I made a mental note to only fly business class in the future.

A couple next to me seemed to be newly weds, they were too lovey dovey for me who just almost threw an eighteen months old relationship into the gutter. A child with a runny nose was crying and her father's attempt to get her to keep quiet was really weak. Glad I had my earphones, I put them over her ear. I imagined I was in Paris and Sally was waiting for me and screaming "surprise!" at the top of her lungs. 

The only person screaming was mom when the plane landed and her newest husband, was waiting for her with open hands. Andre Boucher was extremely bubbly for someone his age but seeing him this close for the second time, I was kind of glad mom married him. He wasn't so tall but he was taller than the rest of us, he had tanned skin, a nice goatee and a thick line of moustache that made him look younger than his early forties and when he picked my little brother up and carried him in his arms I said to myself that maybe this marriage would last two years or so.

Of course, Andre Boucher was rich, mom wouldn't marry someone she was going to feed. My mom's family ran a bottle making business and being the last child of her family and the only daughter, she had never had to work a day in her life, she was constantly getting an allowance from her brothers who managed the company. She was lucky and pampered and a brat but she was my mom and there wasn't much space to make any complaints. Andre owned a two storey building, it was really big and fancy and sure enough I've seen pictures of its interiors (mom showed us) but I was still amazed when we got in and the lights from the chandeliers hit my eyelids.

"oh my goodness." My brother shrieked. My brother shrieks at everything. Andre chuckled proudly and lifted my brother higher in his arms. "This is your home now, boy, every Boucher needs this sort of shelter."

I rolled my eyes, how much more till my brother was no longer a Boucher? "Where is my room?" I asked. "I need to take a shower."

"oh of course dearie." Andre smiled. "Let me walk you there, we can have a grand tour later on." He told me and led us up the stairs. His home was bigger than I had pictured, and he seemed nicer than he had been at the wedding. The walls were painted a creamy brown, the yellow lights from the chandeliers made them look rich, on the walls were few art paintings hung on nails, I couldn't recognise any. Perhaps one was a painting done by Michael Angelo but how would I know. On the second floor, (or the first floor as the French love to say) there was a black and white painting of a woman, her hair was tightly styled into a bun, making her look almost bald. There was a dull smile on her face and an oddly satisfying twinkle in her eyes.

The woman in the painting seemed to be in her forties but the aging lines around her smile and the folding on her forehead made her look older. The round collars of her shirt looked tighter around her neck, the artist had carefully outlined the stress lines, every detail of the painting was sharp that it made me want to look away yet made me want to continue staring at it. "That was my mother." Andre said, he had placed my brother down beside me and was now standing at my back. "I had this portrait done after her death. I hated that she was gone, I did not want her memory to die along with her."

"cool." My brother said.

"Sad." I said.

Dead people made me feel uneasy, mom said it was because of my traumatic experience with my dad. But I thought otherwise, being in the same room with my dad when he had his heart attack definitely had nothing to do with me being uneasy around dead people. Because when my father died, I couldn't even shed a tear.

"This is your room." Andre smiled as he opened the door to a completely empty room safe for the ceiling fan and the light bulbs. 

"My what?"

He chuckled. "Your mom told me that you're pretty picky with everything so I thought I'd let you design your room yourself. You've got a few weeks before school resumes so I'm sure the painting and furniture's will be ready before then."

"why bother when we'll be leaving in a year, no two?" I wanted to ask but I didn't, instead I asked where I would be sleeping and I was taken to a smaller room than the one that's supposed to be my room and almost annoyingly, I had to share with my brother.

" Cool." My brother said. He loves me.

" Ew." I said. I detested his excessive love for me. He was too clingy.

"Honey." My mom smiled as she helped bring my things into the room. "Do you want me to take out your clothes or you'll do it yourself?"

"Take them out." I told her. "mom?" I called. "How do I connect to the WiFi?"

"oh." My mom paused. "I'll go meet Andre for that."

"mom?" my brother called. "When are we leaving?"

I saw my mom's mood change. It went from very excited to be in Paris to of course my kids don't feel too excited to be here. "When we leave, we'll leave." She said. "And if we don't, then we don't."

I raised an eyebrow at her. Way to go, mom!

She opened my luggage and helped me bring out all the things she thought I would need. My brother and I sat on the bed staring, I felt the need to hug him and let him know that things would still be fine even if they weren't. I never imagined that growing up with different fathers had affected him as well, I thought he was too little to know anything, I thought all he cared for was food and games, I had been too selfish thinking of myself only not realising that he too had given up his friends and familiar faces to be here.

"Hey." I whispered in his ear. "How about we share a room? Like we fix up a room for us to share."

"Ew." He said, I frowned, I had expected him to say it was cool.

"You'd have to send me out if you wanted to dress." He said. "And what if I want to bring friends over? I don't want them to see your bra lying on your bed!"

"Mom!" I yelled. "He's being disrespectful."

"I'm just being reasonable." My brother countered. "She wants us to share a room what if she wants to bring a boy over and do the hullabaloo."

My mom looked at me in surprise but I just shrugged. "I just thought we could bond." I said.

"Awwn sweetie." My mom smiled and pulled us both into a hug that became uncomfortable after four seconds.

"Ew." My brother said and tried to free himself from my mom's grip.

I didn't say “Ew. “ but I did the same, mom never stopped hugging us unless we pulled out first.

“We are going to love Paris, kids.“ She said. “And Andre is such a nice guy.“

“He's cool.“ My brother said. “But we'll be need the WiFi password now.“

“Yes, of course.“ She smiled and went out of the room, to go meet Andre. I turned to look at my brother and caught him frowning.

“What is it?“ I asked.

“I would have loved being roommates with you.“ He said without looking me in the eye. “But you get super annoying when things don't go your way. I'd like to have somewhere to hideaway from you.“

“Hey!“ I playfully punched him in the arm.

“I'm just saying.“ He looked at me and smirked. “Things never go the way you want it, honey.“

And yes, He was right.