Château Éboule (English)

neuf

August 08, 2016

Dear Larry,

"I'm Louise Lemaire-Dubois, I'm seventeen years old, and I'm from Paris, France, and ze greatest thing I 'ave learned from Château Aider eez 'ow to love, as you already know."

"My name eez Nigel Lemaire-Dubois, I'm seventeen years old too, I'm from Paris, France, and ze greatest thing I 'ave learned from Château Aider eez zat eet eez a right pain in the ass to keep so many secrets."

"My name is Angela Paige, I'm sixteen years old, I'm from England, and the greatest thing I learned from Château Aider is that it's the biggest money-grabber on the fucking planet. Fuck you all."

"My name eez Mathieu Cartier, I am eighteen years old tomorrow, I am from Tours, France, and ze greatest thing I learned from Château Aider eez zat eet should actually be called Château Éboule."

It was my turn to stand up.

"My name is Nathan Paige, I'm fourteen years old, I'm from Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk, England, and the greatest thing I've learned from Château Aider is that..." I suddenly paused, my brain having just became so blank it shocked me. "I don't absolutely hate everything," I said at last, and Penny the pretty female child molester counsellor nodded. "But the greatest thing I hate is myself, which people usually don't hate, and the greatest thing I love is a boy, which boys usually don't love, and in that way, Angela, I am different, and I don't like it at all."

Later that day I found Louise skipping stones on the beach. The day was overcast, and it was a bit windy, and so whenever he threw his pebbles into the water, even with the most expert hand, they always swerved a bit and fell flat in through the surface, and he merely picked up another stone, and tried again.

My hands were in my pockets as I stood beside him.

"What eez eet you want, Natan?" Asked Louise; he hadn't even looked at me.

"How'd you know it's me?"

"You didn't speak when you came up behind me."

There was silence as he flicked another stone onto the water. It bounced once before plunging through the surface pathetically. Louise bent down for another stone.

"I want to ask you a question," I said after a while. He continued skipping stones, but I knew he was listening. "How do you know that you love Nigel?"

At last he ceased his stone-throwing, and he turned to me, the wind pushing his t-shirt against his stomach, his light brown hair being whipped backwards as gently as wind can whip hair. And he stared. And it was quiet. And there were little waves that lapped at our feet and crashed feebly against the bigger rocks a little ways down. And I waited in wave-lapping silence for my answer.

"I 'ave always wondered when you would ask zat question." He said finally.

"Why?"

"Because your relationship with Mathieu 'as fooled me and Nigel. We do not understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"'ow you, can love him."

I pulled my sweater sleeves over my hands. "That's why I came here in the first place. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know how."

"But Natan," said Louise, stepping closer, "you are ze quietest boy I 'ave met. It wasn't until, I think, you told me to die young, zat I 'eard you speak, really speak. You like to write, no? You are small, you are only fourteen. Mathieu, on ze other hand..." he weighed his hands like scales. "'e is a piece of work. Perhaps you 'aven't seen every side to 'im. 'e is a rebel, he likes to fight, he likes 'itting things, he likes smoking, he likes drinking, I am sure 'e 'as done ze drugs before. 'e doesn't like 'is parents."