veiled affection for me as he undressed me from my soiled clothes.
I simply gaze at him, knowing he’s aware I’m there. He pulls on his cigarette and lifts to sit, his eyes opening but focused on the textured cement beneath his feet.
“My first clear memory is of a red coat,” he says softly. “It had black toggle buttons. It was hanging next to the door when my mother snatched it off the hook and wrapped me in it, fastening the buttons one by one. I could tell she was terrified.”
“N’aie pas peur, petit. Nous partons. Dis au revoir et ne regarde pas en arrière. Nous partons à l’aventure.” Don’t be afraid, little one. We’re leaving. Say goodbye, and don’t look back. We’re going on an adventure.
“But she was scared. And when the doorbell rang and she answered it, a man I’d never seen smiled down at me.”
“Beau? Dominic’s father?”
He nods, flicking ash off his cigarette.
“He said he was taking us to America, and we were going to be happy there. He gathered us and the few belongings my mother packed into his car, and we left. That’s all I remember about fleeing France. Being in that coat, my mother’s fear, the red-headed stranger, and boarding my first plane.”
He runs a hand down his shadowed jaw.
“And we were happy here, mostly. But my mother missed France horribly when we got to America. She didn’t contact anyone. It was the price of fleeing from my father. Back then, he had a lot of connections and it was too risky. Over the years, I would catch her crying while sorting through old pictures, mourning her family. Her mother especially. But she loved Beau King, and it was easy to see. And he was good to me, strict but good. He saved us. She would tell me constantly that he saved us. And I believed her. The only memory I had of my real father was that day I told you about.”
“Saint-Jean-de-Luz.”
Another nod as he puffs on his cigarette.
Snow begins a lazy drift from the clouds above, and I sit idle, too afraid to break the spell.
“Not long after, her belly grew, and then one day, they brought Dominic home.” His smile is faint, but it’s there. “At first, I despised him. I didn’t want to share my mother’s attention.” He gives me a sheepish grin. “So, I put him in a Tangelo orange box and took him out to the garbage. I put a can of his formula and bottle in there with him so he wouldn’t starve.”
“Oh my God,” I can’t help my laugh, and he chuckles with me.
“When she realized what I’d done. Well, it’s the maddest I’ve ever seen her. I was spanked raw, but she never told Papa.”
He shakes his head, his smile lingering. “The next day, my mother insisted I hold him. She set me up in her rocking chair and placed him in my arms.”
He looks over to me, but he’s a million miles away. “He was mine. From that minute on. He was mine.”
I nod, a hot tear sliding down my cheek.
“Our English was pretty bad the first few years. We struggled quite a bit, and we were not at all prepared for the culture shock. I think Mom considered America the Wild West at the time. She was paranoid, and rarely let me play outside. She and Papa would have fights about it, and she would always win. She was so stubborn.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Tobias rolls his eyes, and I can’t help my answering laugh.
“I hated school, kids being kids and shit, they made fun of my accent, my clothes. When I’d go home, I would take Dominic into my room. And I would play him music, my mother’s old tapes.”
This confession has my heart aching. The music. His mother’s music.
He tosses his cigarette and slides his hands in the pocket of his trench coat, his thick hair falling along his forehead with the sweep of the wind. “He was the happiest baby. Constantly smiling, laughing, and he rarely cried. For a time, he was the one who made things okay. He helped us cope so much those first few years. He was such a joy. And eventually, things got better. Mom let me play outside. We adapted.”
He sighs, eyeing the pack of French cigarettes lying next to him.
“My mom would always come home from the plant exhausted, but she rarely complained, but Papa would talk about the boss who robbed his employees, and they would fight.