Service with a Smirk

by Ariel Tachna

  “No, it’s not that. Of course I want to meet your family. I’m just nervous. I want them to like me.”

  “I’m pretty sure that the fact that I’m smiling will be enough to win them over.” Pascal slipped his arm through Mathias’s as they walked down to the garage where Pascal kept his car. “According to my sister, I haven’t done enough of that the past few years.”

  Mathias liked knowing he could make Pascal smile. He waited while Pascal unlocked the car, but as soon as they were both settled, he leaned across the gearshift to kiss Pascal tenderly.

  The warm feeling lasted through the drive to Pascal’s sister’s house. When Pascal parked in front of a little house in the Côte-des-Neiges neighborhood, all his nerves returned. Côte-des-Neiges might not have been the most expensive neighborhood in the city, but it was expensive enough. He’d come a long way from La Tuque, that was for sure.

  Before they could even get out of the car, the front door flew open, and a little tow-headed girl came running out. “Uncle Pascal!”

  The smile on Pascal’s face stole Mathias’s breath. He would have said he’d seen Pascal smile before, but it had never been this bright or carefree. If getting Pascal’s parents to like him meant making Pascal smile like that, he had a lot still to learn.

  “Hello, Chantal. How’s my little songbird?” Pascal caught his niece in a big hug and swung her around in a circle a couple of times, to the chorus of her delighted giggles. The musical sound fit her name perfectly.

  “I learned a new song at music lessons. I’ll sing it for you after dinner. Maman says I have to wait until after we’ve eaten before I show off.”

  Pascal laughed. “Chantal, this is my friend, Mathias. I bet he’d love to hear you sing later.”

  “Hi, Chantal.” Mathias offered his hand. Chantal shook it with a very serious expression on her face.

  “Hello, sir,” Chantal replied politely.

  Mathias wanted to tell her he wasn’t old enough to be “sir,” but that wasn’t his call to make without talking to Pascal’s sister first.

  “Let’s go inside. We can get acquainted where it’s warmer.”

  Chantal slipped her hand into Pascal’s and led him toward the door, chattering a mile a minute about her friends at school and their new class pet. Mathias trailed along behind, feeling more left out by the minute. He didn’t begrudge Pascal the attention he paid to Chantal, not really. He just needed a bit of Pascal’s attention for himself to settle his jangling nerves.

  They were taking off their coats when Pascal’s sister came into the entrance hall. She kissed Pascal’s cheek, sent her daughter off on an errand, and offered her hand to Mathias. “You must be Mathias. Welcome to chaos. I’m Sylvie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sylvie,” Mathias said. “Thank you for including me in Thanksgiving.”

  “You’re welcome, although you may not say that by the time the day is over.” She turned to Pascal. “Maman is not having a good day.”

  Pascal sighed and turned to Mathias. “My mother has a kind of dementia. Some days she’s fine and the same woman who raised us, some days she thinks we’re still kids but is otherwise mostly coherent, and some days she doesn’t know any of us or where she is at all.”

  “Today is one of the days when she thinks it’s twenty years ago,” Sylvie said. “She’s called me by her sister’s name twice, and she’s convinced Chantal is me. She keeps asking where you are. I told her you’d be here soon, and she wanted to know whose house you’d gone to on Thanksgiving.”

  “I’m sorry,” Pascal said to Mathias. “It’s been a long time since she had a bad spell. I was hoping that would continue a little longer.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Mathias said.

  “She may not remember that I told her about you. She may not remember I’m gay. The last time she had a bad spell, she kept on about how I needed to meet a nice girl and settle down. She wasn’t nasty when I told her I wasn’t interested in women—it was more like she didn’t hear me—but it’s not the way I want you to meet her either.”

  It wasn’t the way Mathias wanted to meet her, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter unless he backed out now, which was pretty much impossible since Pascal had driven. He could probably catch the bus, but he didn’t know the routes or how often they’d be running since it was Thanksgiving. He’d just have to suck it up and deal with it.

  “They’re in the kitchen,” Sylvie said. “I can get Papa first, if you think that will be easier.”

  “No, because then Maman will fuss about that. If she’s slipped back in time, not out of it completely, that won’t have changed.”

  “She runs the family?” Mathias asked with a grin.

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Mathias chuckled, but he could imagine how much harder on everyone that made her dementia. Pascal slipped his hand into Mathias’s and headed deeper into the house. The house wasn’t a showplace. It was clearly lived in and loved. Chantal’s toys were scattered around the living room, but the clutter of everyday life couldn’t disguise the underlying elegance of the building. Sylvie didn’t seem hung up on it, but this was the life Mathias aspired to, not the one he was currently living.

  Pascal was comfortable here, given the way he didn’t wait for Sylvie, and he didn’t think any less of Mathias for his second job—or even for the fact that he needed a second job to live on rue Sainte-Catherine.

  They walked into a modern kitchen, a bit at odds with the rest of the house but equipped with everything a cook could need. An older couple sat at the table. The man looked so much like Pascal that Mathias would have known who they were even without the context. He smiled and waited for Pascal to introduce them.

  “Maman, Papa, this is Mathias. I told you about him the other day,” Pascal said. “Mathias, my parents, Julien and Marguerite.”

  Marguerite’s gaze flicked from Pascal’s face to their joined hands. “Pascal! Why are you holding his hand? Where is Robert? You made promises. Your father and I raised you better than that.”

  “Maman,” Sylvie interrupted before she could say more or Pascal could reply, “you’re confused again. Come in the other room with me.” She pulled her mother to her feet and ushered her toward the door.

  “Stop that, Sylvie. Pascal is behaving reprehensibly. You can’t possibly condone this. Did you know he was bringing someone else to Thanksgiving?”

  Sylvie got her mother out of the room and the door closed before she replied, but Mathias didn’t see any way that conversation could finish well.

  “I apologize,” Pascal’s father said, rising slowly. “Marguerite doesn’t always remember things. Usually she remembers the important ones, though. Please don’t take her words to heart. If she were herself, she would never have said them. She was quite put out with Pascal for not bringing you to lunch the day he first mentioned you.”

  “That’s kind of you to say.” No words, however kind, could soothe the sudden ache in Mathias’s chest, though. He was the replacement. No matter how long he was around, he would always be the one Pascal picked when he couldn’t have the one he wanted.

  Julien snorted. “I’m not in the habit of being ‘kind.’ Just ask Pascal. I prefer to tell the truth. Then no one has any question about where they stand.”

  Mathias glanced at Pascal, who looked stricken but nodded at his father’s words.

  “Then it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Mathias summoned a smile and put his best effort into meaning it.

  Chapter 20

  PASCAL LISTENED to his father and Mathias talk, but the conversation was a buzz in his ears. He couldn’t believe his mother had said those things. He needed to pull Mathias aside and apologize at the very least. He could offer to leave. Chantal wouldn’t understand, but Sylvie and Bertrand wouldn’t blame him for taking Mathias and leaving.

  Sylvie came back in before he could get his head back in the game. She took the scene in with a single glance and grabbed Pascal’s arm. “Maman is lying dow
n. I convinced her that some rest would make things better. I don’t know if it’ll help her memories, but it will give us a break. Is he all right?”

  “Would you be?”

  “I’d have already run for the hills,” Sylvie said. “So either he’s made of sterner stuff, or he’s too shocked to react yet. Maman is in our room. You can go in the spare room if you want to talk to him in private.”

  “Thanks, Sylvie.”

  “Her reaction wasn’t a reflection of reality. You know that. If you’d done what she thinks you did, it would be justified, but you didn’t, and when she remembers that, she’ll be fine with Mathias.”

  But would Mathias be fine with her? The dementia wouldn’t ever get any better. Oh, she’d have good days and bad days, but it would get worse, and the bad days would outnumber the good days, and they’d run the risk of a similar confrontation every time Mathias came to a family function. Mathias would be completely within his right to refuse to ever come with Pascal to see his family again. Pascal wouldn’t even blame him. No one in their right mind would want to deal with that kind of confrontation a second time.

  Bertrand came in with Chantal, providing a distraction for Papa, which let Pascal pull Mathias aside. “Come with me.”

  Mathias followed mechanically.

  “I am so sorry,” he said when they were alone in the hallway. “If I’d known she would react that way, I never would have suggested we spend Thanksgiving here.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Mathias said, but his voice sounded hollow to Pascal’s ears.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” Pascal said, though he wouldn’t blame Mathias for running away screaming. “Do you want to leave? We can find somewhere else to have dinner. I’m sure there’s a restaurant with a table available.”

  “No, that’s not fair to you,” Mathias replied. “You should be able to spend Thanksgiving with your family. I can go. I’m sure there’s a bus that will take me home.”

  Pascal shook his head vehemently. Mathias couldn’t leave like this. Pascal had brought him here. If Mathias wanted to leave, Pascal would be a gentleman and take him home. “I will take you home if that’s what you want. I wouldn’t want to stay if I were you after the way Maman acted.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m prepared for it now. It just caught me off guard.”

  Pascal hugged Mathias tightly. He couldn’t possibly deserve Mathias’s acceptance of the situation, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If Mathias was willing to stay and put up with the uncertainty that was Maman’s behavior, Pascal would be grateful and make sure he knew it.

  “Now that we know how she’s acting today, we’ll try to run interference for you,” Pascal said. “Stay close to Bertrand or Sylvie if you can’t stay with me. I’ll do my best to keep her attention on me.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Mathias said. “I’m an adult. I can handle a little disapproval.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to,” Pascal protested. “There’s nothing to disapprove of. None of her upset is justified.”

  “You did make promises to Robert.”

  “Yes, I did, and if he were still alive, I’d still be doing my best to keep them, but he isn’t, and we talked about it before he died. He said I was too young to lock myself in a mausoleum with him. He said the best tribute I could give his memory was to live a long, full, happy life. If anything, I’m finally keeping my promise to him by being here with you.”

  That was dangerously close to a declaration that Mathias probably had no interest in hearing after the hour they’d had, so Pascal stopped the flow of words before he could say things he couldn’t unsay.

  MATHIAS COULDN’T say later how he’d made it through the rest of the afternoon, but Sylvie, Bertrand, and Julien did everything they could to keep Marguerite from making another scene, and Pascal didn’t leave his side for more than a minute until it was time to leave. He followed Pascal out to the car, still feeling hollowed out inside. He hated being the source of tension. Everyone had tried to help, but how long would it be before they started resenting the work it took to have him there?

  “Hey,” Pascal said when they were both seated. “Are you okay?”

  Mathias summoned a smile, hoping it looked less forced than it felt. “Just tired. I was out late at the bar last night, and I didn’t want to be late for Thanksgiving, so I didn’t sleep in today.”

  “You would have been happier staying home and sleeping in. I really am sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Mathias said. “I know that.”

  “If it makes any difference, I was glad to have you there. It was the first Thanksgiving in a long time where I didn’t feel a little left out.”

  “Left out?” Mathias couldn’t imagine Pascal feeling that way surrounded by his family. They had laughed and joked with him all day, including him in every conversation and even making an effort to explain things to Mathias.

  Pascal shrugged. “Sylvie and Bertrand, Maman and Papa, Robert and me. It was always supposed to be three couples, not two couples and me. They never meant to do it, but it still felt like I was odd man out. Even with Maman having a difficult day, I didn’t feel that way today.”

  Mathias couldn’t imagine his presence having helped anything, but he’d take what he could get.

  “It’s not late yet. Do you have time to come upstairs with me, or do you need to get to sleep early?”

  Mathias considered the question for a moment. Pascal might not have couched it in those terms, but going upstairs with him would end in sex. A nice, sweaty round of sex to leave him mindless and boneless might be just what he needed to relax. A consolation prize, even if he hadn’t managed to make a good first impression on Pascal’s family. “I have time. Like you said, it’s not late.”

  Pascal reached across the gearshift and squeezed Mathias’s hand. “Thank you. I want to make up for my mother’s bad behavior if I can.”

  Mathias squeezed back, the contact soothing some of the sting he still felt from Madame Larocque’s reaction to him. He could tell himself all day long that the rest of Pascal’s family didn’t feel the same way. It still hurt.

  They passed the rest of the drive in silence. Pascal parked in the garage and reached for Mathias’s hand again as soon as they had both gotten out of the car.

  They climbed the steps side by side. Pascal never loosened his grip on Mathias’s hand, but neither did he push Mathias against the wall to kiss him as he had done other times they climbed those stairs together. Mathias wasn’t sure what to make of that, but as long as Pascal didn’t let go, he wouldn’t either.

  When they got to Pascal’s apartment and he started fumbling one-handed with the key, Mathias laughed. “You can let go long enough to open the door. I promise I won’t disappear in the time it takes you to get us inside. I’m as invested in being here as you are.”

  Pascal smiled at the quip, but it didn’t reach his eyes, much to Mathias’s dismay. Had he said something wrong? Was the invitation upstairs for something other than sex? Pascal had said he wanted to make up for his mother’s behavior, which implied something good, but that didn’t actually have to mean sex, now that Mathias thought about it. His hand felt cold when Pascal released it to open the door and usher him inside.

  “Hey,” Pascal said after closing the door. “What are you thinking? You look worried.”

  “Nothing,” Mathias said. He summoned a smile and stepped close enough to Pascal to rub against him invitingly. “You’ve got me upstairs. What are you going to do with me?”

  Pascal wrapped his arms around Mathias and leaned in to kiss him, the contact so tender Mathias started worrying again. They had kissed dozens of times, but it had always been different. Hot and a little hard and definitely hungry, on both sides. This wasn’t any of those things.

  He tried to relax into the kiss, because while it wasn’t what he’d expected, Pascal didn’t pull away either. He kept Mathias tight against him and kept kissing h
im, gentle presses of mouth to mouth, little sips of pleasure so different from the usual wave of lust. Mathias parted his lips in invitation, but Pascal didn’t respond. Instead he moved away from Mathias’s mouth to coast over his cheeks, his eyes, the bridge of his nose.

  “Pascal?”

  Pascal hummed in his throat but didn’t stop what he was doing. As long as he wasn’t stopping, Mathias could be patient. The heat between them wouldn’t stay banked forever. Pascal had proven that every time they’d ended up in bed. He walked his fingers up Pascal’s arm, heading for his chest with every intention of encouraging a faster pace, but Pascal caught his hand and returned it to the back of his neck. Mathias pouted at being forestalled, but Pascal just kissed him again with the same tender, undemanding pressure.

  Pascal nipped at Mathias’s lower lip and pulled back. “Let me take your coat. If you’re planning on staying a while, of course.”

  Mathias wasn’t planning on going anywhere except Pascal’s bed for the next several hours. He pulled his coat off and started to toss it on the table near the door, but Pascal took it from him and hung it in the closet behind the door. “No need to rush, is there?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Good. Then let me do this right.”

  Mathias didn’t know how it could be any more “right” than it had already been, but he’d long since accepted that Pascal had more experience than he did. Pascal hadn’t given him a reason to complain so far. He could trust him tonight too.

  Pascal reached for him again. Mathias stepped right back into the embrace since that was exactly where he wanted to be. He tipped his head up for another kiss. Pascal gave him a quick peck but didn’t linger. Instead he guided Mathias down the hall to the bedroom.

  That was progress.

  Mathias grabbed the hem of his shirt as soon as they crossed the threshold, but Pascal stopped him. “Not rushing, remember?”

  “We can ‘not rush’ naked, can’t we?” Mathias asked.