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The red ball bounced over the gingham tablecloth. Three young hands reached to catch it. The thud on the table contrasted with the sharp sound of the raindrops knocking against the glass panes and the dull hit of the knife on the chopping board. Onions wept and now the whole kitchen smelled of stinging tears. Lapin cried out his frustration and messed up his long rust-colored hair when Remy snatched the ball again.
“Chut, mes petits,” Jean-Luc interrupted his cooking to reach for the phone on the wall.
Remy heeded Jean-Luc’s command like the twirls of a second-line parasol, but Lapin groaned when the ball ended on his cousin’s palm again. On the next bounce, Remy let him win. Etienne tried to cheat by putting his pudgy hand in the way and only managed to derail the trajectory.
“Bien sûr, I am! A month is more than enough,” Jean-Luc said to someone over the phone as he diced pieces of chicken. There were no greetings like in the TV series. “Don’t be a couyon, mon fils. We’ve weaned him off his biting habit!”
Remy caught the ball in the air and bounced it back to Lapin. Jean-Luc might have been talking about Etienne or about him, and there was no way to know without interrupting.
“Yeah, it’s raining during hurricane season, what else is new?” Jean-Luc’s voice sounded peeved and Remy let go of the chance to get the ball. “I’ve been patient with you.” Jean-Luc’s voice was more serious now. “Mais you need to drag your ass from Bywater and dine with your old man. I’ve got a jambalaya on the stove and what’s enough for four is enough for six.”
Remy got ready to catch the ball next time, trying to make sense of the call. Lapin was looking at him with a smile, daring him to catch the next bounce. Etienne, golden locks flailing his face, was tapping on the table cloth in excitement.
“Yes, bring her.” Jean-Luc ordered while tossing the chicken into a pot. “Better to get it done in one go.”
The chicken hissed on the hot metal and Jean-Luc dipped his hand into a bowl of spices. The phone returned to its cradle as the fine powder rained over the meat. Remy caught the ball and took a sniff; cayenne and black pepper perfumed the air. Lapin looked over his shoulder to check if it was safe to return to the noise. Remy followed his cue. His new cousin had told him he had lived in this house his whole life, so he knew all the rules.
“Toss the ball!” Lapin demanded when Remy hogged the toy.
Jean-Luc turned around and cupped his hands. Remy didn’t think; he just tossed it to the makeshift goal. The ball looked tiny between those big hands. Lapin groaned a dismayed ‘no’ and Etienne whined. Even Remy felt disappointed. In this house, when the toys were confiscated, game time was over.
“Come here, neveu,” Jean-Luc called, dropping the toy into his apron’s pocket.
Groaning, Lapin got off his chair and stood in front of Jean-Luc. It was still a mystery how he could show his sour face to Jean-Luc without earning a quick slap.
“I’m going to need you out of the kitchen if we want a good jambalaya,” Jean-Luc said in all seriousness, showing Lapin a clean tea towel. “And it’s raining outside. So these are the rules: you are going to chase each other around the house. The kitchen is a no-go zone. You break something, you’ll clean it. Whoever has the towel by the time I call you to the table will get four cookies instead of two.” Jean-Luc looked at the other two. “Deal?”
“Yeah!” Etienne cried out, slapping the table with glee. Remy just nodded.
“Who’s my quickest rabbit?” Jean-Luc asked, twirling the towel over his head.
“I am!” Lapin shouted, raising his arms so high the rainbow on his shirt looked like a straight line.
Jean-Luc made a great circle; the towel fluttered. “Run!”
Lapin did a double take when he noticed the tea towel had disappeared. Jean-Luc had hooked it to his cousin’s belt loop in a sweep so quick it felt like magic. With a bright smile, Lapin bolted toward the laundry room. Etienne followed him giggling. Jean-Luc looked at Remy, still sitting in his place.
“Mon fils?”
“Givin’ ‘em a headstart,” Remy said with a cocky smirk before giving chase.
Jean-Luc’s deep belly-shaking laugh was still hanging in the air when Remy entered the laundry room. Etienne had cut Lapin’s run in the middle of the back stairs; likely having jumped over the dryer. Lapin was performing a cartwheel on the railing while Etienne tumbled forward. Remy climbed the stairs two by two and planted his hands on Etienne’s back for an impromptu leapfrog.
“Not fair!”
Remy watched over his shoulder to see if Etienne was safe. A broken glass can be swept up, but not a chipped tooth. Lapin tripped on the last step with a thud, but he had the good sense to keep the towel pressed to the floor. Remy jumped over the banister, blocking his cousin from reaching the attic. Etienne was thumping his way up.
“Catch me if you can, cousin!” Lapin dared, performing a leap and sprinting toward the bedrooms.
Etienne was right on his tail, pawing the floating tea towel. Remy trailed behind, wondering where Lapin was going to turn. Lapin thumbed his nose and pushed the door of his bedroom with his tush. Etienne followed into the chaos. Remy tried not to get distracted by the eviscerated appliances, the broken toys and the unmade bed. Etienne jumped to the bed. Lapin had to turn, only to be cut off by Remy still near the doorway. Remy aimed for the tea towel and missed by a hair. Etienne was luckier.
“You little…” Remy muttered when Etienne dove between his legs, towel clutched tight.
Remy pivoted from Lapin to Etienne. The little one was rushing for the front stairs, towel waving in the air. Remy gained momentum over the runner rug and jumped to the rail. As he slid down like an avalanche, he plucked the towel from Etienne’s hand. Now, the finial was approaching fast. Remy got distracted, calculating his stop, when Lapin launched himself from the stairs to the floor, snatching the towel from Remy’s hand.
“Hey, that’s mine!” Etienne finally protested as Remy used the finial to back-flip and Lapin dashed toward the dining room.
The dining room was dark. The big table with its sixteen chairs was, according to Lapin, reserved for Saint Nicholas feasts and Guild Councils. The family ate in the kitchen. Right now, Lapin was burrowing his way among the chairs and the table legs. Remy jumped over the table. His weight made the heavy candleholders dance; he had to twist to stop them from toppling over. Etienne dashed to cover the other side of the table, to cut Lapin’s escape. Lapin emerged from under the long dark tablecloth hands first. Etienne snatched up the towel and ran toward the door at the end of the room.
“No!” Remy and Lapin shouted in one voice and Etienne tried to stop himself.
“No-go zone!” Remy yelled as Etienne tripped himself on the rug and veered into one of the big glass vases by the credenza.
“You wanna lose dem cookies?” Lapin asked, running as Etienne flailed about before stopping himself with his back to the furniture. The fine china rattled and the water inside the vase sloshed.
“Don’t yell at me,” Etienne protested with a pout, holding the vase with both arms.
“Brat!” Lapin replied, reclaiming it from Etienne’s grasp.
Remy noticed he had been forgotten, which suited him just fine. Etienne was busy with the vase; Lapin was happy enough with the towel in his hand. Remy crouched on the table and waited until his new cousin passed by and snatched the towel with the same smoothness he would with a tourist wallet. Lapin took three steps before noticing his hand was empty. His long red hair fanned out when he turned around, arms wide, in disbelief.
“You snoozed,” Remy said with a shrug before jumping from the table. Just to rub salt into the wound, he rolled on the hardwood, sprang into a front flip and landed ready to cartwheel into the parlor.
“Show off!” Lapin called out, running in pursuit.
“Green goes well with that carrot top!”
“Wait!” Etienne shouted just two steps behind Lapin.
Remy jumped between the sofas and waved the tea towel over his head as a taunt. Lapin stopped to kick his feet in frustration; he probably had been the best at the game before Remy came. Remy relaxed his posture and little Etienne seized the chance to snag the towel with a badly formed high knee tuck. Laughing, he stopped to verify he had managed to take the towel. Lapin came from behind and swiped it with effortless efficacy.
“Hey!” Etienne protested, trying to recover it with another jump.
“Nah,” Lapin replied, moving the towel behind his back. “Don’t think so!”
“Neither do I!” Remy added, snatching the towel and sauntering his way toward the doorway to the foyer.
Lapin managed to squeeze a gainer between the door and Remy; the towel changed hands again. As he recovered after a three-point landing, Etienne slid on the floor. Remy was still planning his next move when the door opened. A stout man dressed in a dark green shirt walked in and snatched it from Etienne’s eager hands.
“What do we have here?” the man said, looking at the tea towel with suspicion. “Ain’t you all a little bit old to play thief tag?”
“Henri!” Lapin and Etienne called, nearly tackling the new arrival in their hurry to hug him.
“I won’t give it back,” Henri teased, holding the towel high.
Henri tossed back his bald head as he laughed. His voice was loud and a bit aggressive. Remy looked at his new cousins crowding the man with glee, but he was yet to be charmed. The door of the kitchen swung behind his back, but Remy couldn’t force himself to look at Jean-Luc. Not when another mystery was entering the house with a case and a cloud of jasmine perfume.
“Where are the candies?” Etienne asked, clutching Henri’s belt.
“Who told you I brought you candies?”
“You went away,” Etienne insisted, dipping his hand into Henri’s pockets. “You always bring us treats.”
“This should be for me,” Lapin said, holding a white package in front of Etienne’s face. “It has a white rabbit!”
“Where did you find it?”
“Aren’t you a couple of clever boys?” the woman asked, almost whipping her hair as she squeezed between the door and the man.
“Don’t make me tell you again.” Jean-Luc raised his voice over the kids’ cries and the noisy kisses. Remy didn’t remember the first call. “Wash your hands, dinner’s ready!”
“This is the new one?” Henri asked, passing Lapin the tea towel laden with a fistful of candies. “Share.”
Jean-Luc rested his hand on Remy’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “He’s my son.”
“Jeez, Dad, you made that pretty clear almost three months ago.”
“Happy to have you home, son.” Jean-Luc squeezed Remy’s shoulder softly. “He’s Henri, your big brother.” Then he nodded toward the woman. “She’s Mercy, your sister.”
Remy raised his head slowly and fixed his gaze on Henri, wishing with all his soul for a couple of shades. Henri harrumpped and Mercy’s mouth formed a cute circle when they saw Remy’s demon eyes. Lapin said ‘cool’ when he saw Remy’s unusual coloring for the first time, getting so close he almost pressed their noses together. Etienne shrugged and just asked if Remy knew how to shoot a hoop. The silence from these two was unsettling. Then Mercy took a step forward and kissed his face. Her perfume was too powerful, nice but almost tacky.
“Hello, little brother,” she said with a smile.
“Go wash before dinner gets cold,” Jean-Luc instructed, releasing his grip.
There was never an order Remy was quicker to comply with. He scurried into the kitchen and turned toward the washbasin where they were supposed to wash their hands whenever they returned home. The laundry room had so many towels waiting. Lapin was toying with a bar of soap while Etienne spread his fingers under the old-style spout.
“I have a big brother,” Remy announced to his cousins.
“Duh,” Etienne remarked, getting away from the washbasin while the water was still running.
“We know,” Lapin assured Remy, clearing the foam. Remy wet his hands and picked up the bar. “Henri’s a swell guy.”
“What do you do with a big brother?” Remy asked, suddenly interested in the slippery bar between his palms.
“You asking me?” Lapin challenged with a smile.
Remy rubbed the soap furiously. He had forgotten that Lapin’s mom died shortly after he was born and his dad left him with Jean-Luc. His cousin said he saw his dad now and then, but Remy had not met the man yet.
“That’s a question for Etienne.”
Remy turned his eyes to Etienne while rubbing his hands under the running water. The little one always had either praise or gripe for his big brother Theoren.
“The same as you do with a cousin.” Etienne shrugged, twisting the hand towel. “They play less, though.”
Remy nodded and he and Lapin shared a towel before moving to the kitchen. Dishes and bowls were in front of their seats. The kids had only spoons and the grown-ups had whole sets of cutlery. Each of them received a generous portion of fragrant jambalaya while mumbling a quick thank you.
“I don’t like mud bugs!” Etienne complained and his heels hit the chair in frustration.
“Trade you for my chicken?” Lapin offered before Jean-Luc could say a thing.
“I want your andouille!”
Henri laughed at the other side of the table, attracting Remy’s attention. Mercy was sitting next to Lapin, rubbing his back. The caress felt like a reward for sharing. Jean-Luc sat next to Remy and his new dad’s warm hand landed on his shoulder. The touch made his heart skip a beat, but it was brief.
“Half and half?”
“Deal!” Etienne accepted, moving his bowl next to Lapin’s.
“Eat, my son,” Jean-Luc encouraged as Henri kissed Mercy’s fingers. “May you grow strong.”
They ate in silence. Remy tried to curl his arm around his bowl, but Jean-Luc’s hand stopped him, placing a piece of bread with butter into his grasp. Remy nodded and smelled the treat; garlic and thyme came from the butter. The bread was new. With both hands full, Remy had no choice but to eat. He was the first to finish, and, without asking, Jean-Luc scooped another spoonful from the pot.
Lapin asked for seconds next, then Henri. Mercy declined with a smile and got up to pour coffee. While she was at it, she asked Jean-Luc if he wanted some. Remy found that strange; this was Jean-Luc’s house. Stranger still, Jean-Luc agreed as he added half a spoonful to his plate.
“Want some more?” Jean-Luc asked, offering Remy a third helping.
Remy shook his head. He wanted more, but he knew not to show his greed. “Non. Merci.”
“Here, then.” Jean-Luc offered him another piece of buttered bread. “By the ruckus, you three need all the food you can get!”
“Give me bread, Uncle!” Lapin demanded, carrying a spoon full of rice to his mouth.
“Manners, Emil,” Henri barked from the other side of the table.
Remy felt his chest tighten. Lapin went by his last name; no one called him Emil except when they were angry. Anger, with Fagan’s mob, meant hits would start flying. Remy wondered if he could get under the table before he caught the rebound of Henri’s swing. Jean-Luc, however, was calmly buttering another crust.
Lapin huffed, but no slap came his way. “May I have some bread, Uncle?”
“You can when you ask proper,” Jean-Luc agreed, pacing the piece to the rowdy redhead.
Coffee hit the table and Remy felt it tickling his nose. He had drunk coffee before, in the streets, but he hadn’t mustered the courage yet to ask for a cup. Jean-Luc was asking the table if anyone wanted more and, upon receiving a chorus of negatives, carried the pot to the stove. Remy used the bread to mop his bowl and avoid the temptation of Etienne’s half-finished one.
While they were finishing, Henri got up and began to gather the dishes. Jean-Luc moved behind Etienne to open the fridge. Henri took Remy’s plate, muttering something about his appetite. Remy was still wondering if that was good or bad when a tall glass was set in front of him. Milk poured in. Remy couldn’t help it. His tongue danced on the corner of his mouth; it was not coffee, but it was almost as good. While he took a long sip, two chocolate chip cookies landed on his plate.
“Not fair, Uncle,” Etienne protested when he got only two cookies. “I had the towel!”
Jean-Luc gave him a side eye, putting four cookies in one coffee dish and placing it in front of Henri. “He had the towel. You know the rules.”
“He wasn’t playing!”
“You’re such a baby!” Lapin said, rolling his eyes dramatically.
Henri put the plates in the sink and his expression twisted when he saw the cookies. Without a word, he spread his good fortune between the small fry. Remy was not about to complain about an extra cookie, but this was new. His new big brother moved the chair back and opened the case Mercy brought in. With a cookie in his mouth, Henri passed straps over his arms and fixed a big accordion to his chest. Remy had seen accordions before, but this was not a Cajun one; this had keys like a piano and many rows of buttons. This was a street busker’s instrument.
“Play your old man’s favorite,” Jean-Luc said, sitting next to Remy.
“With pleasure,” Henri said, expanding the accordion. “I need to warm up…”
Remy put a cookie in his mouth, noticing the rows of buttons and the way Henri extended his fingers over the keys. The real surprise was Mercy, who launched herself into a song while dissolving the sugar in her cup.
“Non. Rien de rien…”
This was a song Remy had not heard before in the streets. A lot slower than the usual fare, but kind of defiant. Mercy’s accent was heavy, and her French Rs were too soft, but when she looked into Henri’s eyes, her whole face lit up. Remy lifted his milk and sipped slowly, wondering what kind of siblings would look at each other like that. If Henri was his brother and Mercy, his sister, then they had to be sibling-like to each other.
“You have improved fast, Mercy,” Jean-Luc praised with a big smile.
“How can I not when this man can’t shut his trap and he only spews French?” Mercy said, pointing at Henri with a flourish.
Remy almost snorted. Henri barely opened his mouth the whole night.
“Coupable, sans aucun doute,” Henri declared proudly as he grazed the keys. He fixed his eyes on Remy. “I’m sure you know this one, Remy.”
The music that came from the instrument was loud and fast. Remy only needed three notes to identify it. Every busker on Jackson Street could play it. Etienne was slapping the table and Lapin stole Mercy’s spoon to keep the rhythm by hitting his glass. The noise made him tremble, until Jean-Luc’s hand touched his arm. Henri repeated the chorus, looking at Remy as if he were inviting him to sing.
“Come on, Remy,” Lapin encouraged, almost headbanging.
“Sing! Sing! Sing!” Etienne cried out without stopping his rhythmic slapping.
Remy looked at Jean-Luc while Henri repeated the chorus for a third time.
“Only if you want,” Jean-Luc said softly, drawing back. “It’s not mandatory.”
Remy swept the table with his gaze. Lapin was totally absorbed in jamming with Henri and headbanging. Etienne took his chance and stole the last cookie in Lapin’s dish. Mercy was picking up empty dishes and bottles of condiments. Henri was waiting patiently, too pleased with pushing buttons and keys. Slowly, Remy gave him a shy nod and Henri smirked before launching himself into the verse.
“My grand-maw and your grand-maw were sit-tin’ by the bayou,” Remy sang with a thin voice that could barely be heard over the bellows. “My grand-maw told your grand-maw Im gon-na set your flag on fire… Talkin’ ’bout, Hey now!”
“Hey now!” Lapin replied as if he were waiting for the chance.
“I-KO, I-KO, un-day!” Remy and Lapin sang in one voice. Mercy, reaching inside the pantry, added a whoop that could make the Dixie Cups proud.
“Jockamo feeno ai nané,” Remy sang more freely.
“Jockamo fee nané!” sang the whole table.
“Look at my king all dressed in red,” Etienne said, pointing at Jean-Luc.
“I-KO, I-KO, un-day,” replied Remy and Lapin.
“I bet-cha five dol-lars he’ll kill you dead!”
“Jockamo fee nané!” The LeBeaus sang in a single voice.
“Talkin’ ’bout, Hey now!” Remy almost shouted over the din.
The chorus repeated with glee. Remy felt the energy rush through him like they were in a Mardi Gras parade.
“See that guy all dressed in green?” Mercy sang the next line, wrapping her arms around Henri’s shoulders.
“I-KO, I-KO, un-day,” the three boys replied.
“He’s not a man, he’s a lov-in’ ma-chine,” Mercy sang, tossing a wink in Jean-Luc’s general direction.
“Jockamo fee nané!” Lapin and Etienne sang happily, but Remy didn’t.
Jean-Luc’s laugh was too loud and Henri blushed, but his sure fingers never wavered. Mercy’s fingers were tracing spirals over his new brother’s shiny dome. Remy had seen that look before. People in the street gave each other a certain look before dipping into an alley and making soft noises. Sometimes they stayed together for months, most of the time it was only for a night. And money changed hands.
One of Fagan’s older kids had told him men liked to dip their bites inside a happy chatte. Remy still had to discover what a chatte was—something told him not to ask his new cousins—but he had seen men and women, and men and men, and women and women slotted like parts of a lock, sweating and making noise. Maybe Henri’s bite had found its way into Mercy’s happy chatte. Mercy looked easy enough. She kept caressing Henri in a way that looked clingy, which was odd. Henri wasn’t handsome; he was kind of stocky and Remy never had seen a walrus mustache that thick. The idea of Mercy wanting Henri’s bite crossed Remy’s mind. No one had told him women also liked to have a bite inside.
“You look tired, mon fils,” Jean-Luc said, resting his hand on Remy’s shoulder.
“Do the Saints now!” Lapin demanded as soon as Iko Iko was done.
Remy shook his head and tried to compose a happy face at the same time.
“You two,” Jean-Luc said with a big smile, “just one song more, and then you hit the bed. And you two,” he continued, pointing at Henri and Mercy, “you do the dishes. I’ll be back after I take Remy to bed.”
So, Jean-Luc didn’t buy it. With a shrug, Remy smiled at the rest and got off his chair: “Bonne nuit!”
“But I want to sleep with Remy!” Etienne protested and began to pout as Mercy gave Jean-Luc a mock military salute.
“Don’t be a crybaby, cousin!” Lapin replied without taking his eyes from Henri’s accordion.
“You a big boy, Etienne,” Remy comforted, squeezing Jean-Luc’s fingers. “Sleep well. We’ll play tomorrow, oui?”
“Bonne nuit, chèr,” Henri said, attacking the first notes of When The Saints Go Marching In as Remy and Jean-Luc left the kitchen.
“Yay!” Etienne cried out as if he wasn’t about to cry a minute ago.
“I wanted to know my new big brother,” Remy protested, following Jean-Luc toward the stairs.
“You’ll have the rest of your life for that,” Jean-Luc said, pulling Remy’s arm.
Remy had learned to avoid fighting Jean-Luc’s pulls; it took him a while to know it was a cue. He just allowed himself to be airborne, sure his new dad’s arms were there to catch him. So far, Jean-Luc hadn’t disappointed him. Remy soon settled his head on Jean-Luc’s shoulder and enjoyed being carried up the stairs in a secure embrace.
“But I want to have my little boy for myself one more night.”
Even if that was a lie, it tore a smile from Remy. Two months ago, he would have been shitting himself in fright. On nights like this, the sound of his steps making the old stair creak and Jean-Luc’s warmth around his ribs felt like having a door one could close. The best thing, however, was how brief it was. Soon, Jean-Luc was leaning forward, letting Remy know it was time to let go.
“Teeth and pajamas,” Jean-Luc commanded as he dropped Remy on the landing. “Bon Dieu, you’re getting heavy.”
Heavy was good; it made his bending parts ache less. Remy grinned and waited for Jean-Luc’s acknowledgment. His new cousins’ voices singing and the sound of rhythmic clapping climbed the stairs behind them. Jean-Luc scoffed; that sound was never angry. Remy ran to his room, already popping the buttons of his jeans. The heavy fabric hissed against his legs on its way to the floor. Remy stepped out of his shoes and dipped into the bathroom in his undies and t-shirt.
“Don’t forget to put your socks in the basket,” Jean-Luc reminded him. By the sound of his voice, he was picking up Remy’s discarded jeans.
“Huh-uh,” Remy signaled, the small brush already inside his mouth.
Remy brushed his teeth to make Jean-Luc happy. The taste of the toothpaste was still alien in his mouth. Distractedly, moving the tool against his gums, Remy pushed down his socks with his toes. A splash of foam hit the washbasin and water sloshed on the washbasin. While he did his best to make the taste disappear, the socks went into the basket, along with his sweaty t-shirt.
“You have one too many,” Remy said, putting on an old Goodwill New Orleans Jazz jersey.
“Are you calling this old thief greedy?” Jean-Luc asked with mock outrage as he lit the tiny gaslight by Remy’s pillow.
Etienne and Lapin climbed up the stairs with shouts and giggles. The discordant notes of the accordion followed them. Remy caught their silhouettes cutting the light in the corridor before Henri rushed behind them like an Indian wild man.
“You call us your run,” Remy continued once they passed by, grabbing the doorframe. “I’m ten, Lapin nine, Etienne eight.” He wanted to take a step toward the bed, but he couldn’t. “You got yourself a Jack and a Queen now.”
“What is the problem, then?” Jean-Luc asked, pulling back the sheets and sitting on the mattress.
Henri’s accordion was playing something happy and rhythmic, but Remy barely paid any attention. His chest began to hurt; he needed to say his piece. Like tipping a trash bag in the way of a pursuer, Remy needed to toss something in the way of Jean-Luc to let him know Remy was grateful, but he knew all of this could be taken from him. Remy needed to make clear he wouldn’t hold a grudge, because he knew.
“You de King,” Remy mumbled, looking at the floor. “And next year, Lapin be ten, and Etienne, nine…”
“So, if I understand correctly,” Jean-Luc said, rising from the bed, “you’re afraid you’re ruining my royal flush?”
His cousins were shouting their bonne nuits amidst laughter. The music changed to something softer; Remy had heard the piece in the tourist bars, but he didn’t know the name. Pushing away the memory of the streets, Remy took a breath that sounded like a sob, fixed his demon eyes on Jean-Luc and nodded.
“I’m not a King, Remy,” Jean-Luc corrected, crossing the two steps between them. “I’m the dealer.” Jean-Luc’s hand, strong and steady, touched Remy’s head and messed his hair up. The touch still made Remy cringe inside, but he understood Jean-Luc was trying to be kind. “And I’m perfectly happy with a queen-high straight.”
“You sure?”
“It is my job to be sure.”
Jean-Luc knelt to look into Remy’s eyes. Remy’s fingers hurt when they clutched the doorframe. He didn’t like when people looked at his eyes, even people hellbent on loving them as much as Jean-Luc.
“I’m de père; you, de fils, ‘member?”
Remy nodded. He remembered; he just didn’t believe it. And didn’t want to believe it because it would hurt when Jean-Luc changed his mind or his heart.
“You had a long day, hop on your bed, mon fils,” Jean-Luc said with half a smile.
Remy waited until Jean-Luc got up and moved to the door before walking to the bed. His bed. The novelty of having the same place to sleep hadn’t worn off in the slightest. His legs slid between the cool sheets and his head fell on a soft pillow. The bed smelled, but it didn’t stink, which was a plus.
“Heu, Henri,” Jean-Luc was saying, leaning out the doorway. “You have a choice. You either play something softer or don’t play at all. The kids need their sleep.”
The accordion immediately changed its tune. The music was slow and quiet and Remy sank into his pillow. Jean-Luc came to his side, thief-like, after turning off the lights.
“Do you want this on?” He gestured toward the gaslamp. Remy nodded. “Bien. Do you want me to go? Or should I stay and answer your questions? A bright boy like you might have some.”
Remy scooted over in the bed to let Jean-Luc sit. “What’s Henri playing?”
“A valse, I think,” Jean-Luc replied with a chuckle. “He learned more pieces than I care to remember while he lived in Paris.”
Remy rubbed his face against the pillow. He had heard the name before, it was a faraway place. One of Fagan’s kids was sent there when they didn’t meet the cut. “Paris, Texas?”
“Paris, France.”
“Ah.” That was a new word, now he had to know. “Is that farther than Paris, Texas?”
“A lot. I’ll take you there someday.”
Remy closed his eyes and pretended not to hear the promise. “Mercy’s Henri’s girl? House woman? Caitin?”
Jean-Luc’s groan stopped Remy’s questions. A groan was not good and Remy felt his legs tensing, but Jean–Luc’s voice was as warm as ever.
“Please don’t use that word again. It’s rude and I don’t want rudeness under my roof.” Jean-Luc leaned forward as Henri started Amazing Grace. “She’s Henri’s wife. Been married for some years now.”
Remy knew wife, it was sort of a permanent girl, but the other word was new. “What’s married?”
“Mais là…” The word was faint and the music almost swallowed it. “You like all the people you meet?”
“Not all.”
“So, you like some people better than others?”
“Oui.”
“Well, sometimes a man and a woman like each other better than other people.” Jean-Luc leaned back and his spine went straight. “They like each other so much that they promise to keep together until their last day.”
“How can they do it?” Remy sat up in bed. “I don’t know when my last day will be!”
“No one knows, Remy,” Jean-Luc replied and signaled him to get back down. “You gamble for a long time, expecting your chips will last until that day you don’t know.”
“That’s not a good deal.” Remy lay down grumbling.
“Maybe. Not in the best practices book, that’s for sure.“ Jean-Luc pulled the top sheet over Remy. “But you like the person enough to invest despite the risk. You like the person enough to take the chance. That’s the power of the contract.”
The music was fading and the stairs were creaking. Henri was returning to the pot he poured his chips on. To Remy it made no sense, especially if you can dip into an alley for a few bills. He blinked slowly as silence began to settle in the bedrooms. You can like a person as much as you want, but nothing was made to last. Contracts have end dates for a reason. Jean-Luc sat in silence and waited for another question, but Remy had enough to mull over.
Maybe the like was the important part. Maybe the like was the only thing that mattered. Remy’s eyes felt so heavy. Because a wife can have a kid, and when there is a kid and a maman, you have a family.
Remy yawned and began to drift into slumber. Family was a choice made by likes, then? He liked Lapin and Emil, and was beginning to like Henri.
A new yawn and Remy had to admit he liked Jean-Luc, too. And they had a contract, vrai? Jean-Luc was père; Remy, fils. Remy had to ask Jean-Luc if they were married, he thought, as the borders of the world began to smudge.