Tango, p.18
Tango, page 18
“He makes me happy, too.”
Philippe shakes my dad’s hand and kisses Jessica goodbye on both her cheeks before we go through to the other side for emigration and boarding. Pretty soon, we’re up in the air and on our way to a new life, together.
I can’t believe I’m on my way back to Paris. With Philippe. I turn and smile at him. He gently squeezes my hand.
As we approach the airport, I can see the city below though the small window. I had opted for a window seat just to see us approach Paris. I was worried that maybe it would be cloudy and I wouldn’t be able to see it as we came close to land but, fortunately, it’s a clear day and the nearest clouds can be seen far towards the south.
Paris, itself, is sparkling in the morning sun and everything looks as if it is sprinkled with gold dust.
My excitement builds. More so than the first time. Then I’d been nervous, even unsure of what I would find but, now, I was full of hope and joy.
Philippe, sitting next to me in coach, looks over my shoulder. “Welcome home, chéri.” He kisses me.
***
Martine and Stéphane are waiting for us as we finish collecting our luggage and pass into the arrivals hall. Martine’s beside herself to see us both, together, and Stéphane just shakes my hand cordially. Probably wondering how long it’ll be before I run away back home again.
We get a lift in Stéphane’s car to Philippe’s place in Montparnasse. After we arrive and chat for a while, Martine and her dad leave. Philippe and I are alone to unpack.
“You still happy with your decision, chéri?” He lifts my suitcase and throws it on the bed for me to unpack.
“Qui, Philippe. Better make use of the French I’ve learnt. I’ll soon be speaking it full time I think. I’m no longer a tourist in essence.
“C’est bien,” he replies.
Before they left us alone, Stéphane had invited us to dinner as we still have to stock up on food in Philippe’s place. It seems he hadn’t taken good care of himself in the time before and after I’d left for Chicago, and he was away for the last few weeks with me so his supplies are extremely low.
We finish unpacking and make love after enjoying a shower together and a nap. By seven p.m., we’re at Stéphane’s place, and Martine wants to know all about Philippe’s trip to Chicago. He tells them of his proposal and my response.
It’s a nice enough evening and Philippe dotes a lot on me. In the back of my mind, I’m still nervous about seeing Rémi again. I have to get a chance to apologize to him.
And so, on our way home in the Uber, Philippe asks me, “You seemed far away tonight. What was wrong?”
“I have to see Rémi, Philippe. I don’t think I’ll truly settle in before I say what I have to say to him.”
“Ok, let’s go and look for him tomorrow. He’s an artist so we should be able to track him down in Montmartre, unless he’s moved elsewhere.”
I hope not.
***
The following day, we go shopping for groceries. Once we’re back at his apartment and unpack the bags, we head out to Montmartre.
It proves a little difficult to find Rémi but eventually we track him down to a small market near one of the parks. When he notices me approaching, his sweet smiling face darkens somewhat.
“Bonjour, Evan.” He recognizes Philippe and steps away from us.
“Please don’t be alarmed, Rémi. I’m here to apologize. It was heartless of me to use you like that and even though I didn’t believe it at the time, it was what I was doing to you. I’m sorry for putting you through that.”
Rémi purses his lips and ponders over my words for a moment. Either to try and translate everything I’ve said, word for word, or to consider what I’m saying, or both.
After a short while, he smiles nervously and says, “It be ok, Evan. Me happy now. I have own boyfriend.”
“You do?” I’m happy for him but feel a little overprotective.
“Yes, his name is Jacques. I think you know him.”
I can’t think of anyone offhand and after we arrange to meet for dinner later in Saint Georges, Philippe and I head off to Bastille for lunch.
We end up having lunch at the café around the main Place de Bastille, the same one I frequented during my last time here, and again, I enjoy the same Risotto. The waiter’s, coincidently, the same one, but he doesn’t recognize me and is as rude as usual. No tip this time, I smile to myself.
Around us, everyone appears upbeat. As we take a stroll afterwards in the area towards Philippe’s bookstore, contented people pass us by. It’s amazing how different the city seems to me now. It’s so vibrant and the atmosphere’s reflecting my own joy and affecting those surrounding me.
I know I’m being silly but it just feels that way.
***
At around six p.m., we meet up with Rémi and lo and behold, it’s Jacques from the restaurant that night when Philippe attacked me and Rémi. I’d had doubts about him being straight at the time. My instincts must’ve been spot-on.
He looks very suspiciously at me. I can’t blame him though.
We order a few glasses of wine and Rémi’s infectious personality causes us all to relax. So much so, that we end up having an excellent evening together. Even Jacques relaxes and by the end of the evening, him and Philippe are best mates.
Rémi and I are quiet, observing the two of them discussing football, with a passion I may add, and just nod at each other with knowing smiles.
“Does he make you happy, Rémi?” I whisper in his direction.
“Qui, Evan. Very.”
After a wonderful evening, it’s two thirty in the morning when we finally get back to Philippe’s place, too tired and too drunk to do anything except fall asleep in each other arms, fully clothed.
***
A little more than a week passes by before Philippe throws me with a curveball.
“We haven’t been back to the club to dance, you know?”
“Of course, who could forget. I can’t believe that I have.”
“I was thinking …” He wraps his arms around me.
“Yes?” I look up at his beautiful smile.
“Why don’t I book it out for us for a fortnight from today, during the daytime, and we can invite your family and our friends to join us there for a little ceremony?” He gives me a lingering kiss.
“A ceremony,” I manage to say when he sets my mouth free.
“Yes, like a civil union of some sort. We can say vows to each other, and I will have my lawyers draw up documents making our partnership legal, so that if something should happen to me, you aren’t left unprotected.”
“That’s not necessary, Philippe. I have my own money, and my dad’s taken care of me in case something happens to him.”
“Don’t be naïve, chéri. From what I learnt after François died, it’s better to be prepared, even if we don’t want to talk about it. In any case, you can’t always rely on your dad to bail you out. It’s not fair.”
“I know. What do you have in mind?” I rest my cheek under his chin.
“Let’s have an intimate lunch with about twenty or so people and we will make it a tango theme.”
“Sounds great, will we dance in front of them?”
“Bien sûr!”
“I’m not sure, Philippe. It will be a little embarrassing.”
“Don’t start with that shit again.”
“Ok. Ok. I’m just a little shy and not bothered about what people think but it will be my family.”
“I understand but you’ll be fine. I can choreograph a dance routine for us and we can practice it as a showcase dance beforehand, thereby making sure we’re ready. We’ll give them a show they’ll never forget.”
“I’m down with it.”
“Good.” His kiss is soft and then we passionately embrace, with his tongue exploring the depths of my soul.
Fuck! I love this man.
I call Martine a little later and tell her what we’re planning, except for the showcase dance, and she says she’ll design an electronic invitation for us to send to everyone.
So very sweet of her and I tell her that.
The next day, I make a list of who I want to invite and jot down my dad, Jessica, Martine, Alice, Harry, Rémi, Jacques, and Stéphane. I even encourage Stéphane to bring a partner and then add some names Philippe gives me of some colleagues at the Académie he wants to invite.
Later, when he goes through the list with me, he asks me to add one friend I haven’t met as yet, Paul.
“Who’s Paul?”
“He worked on the streets with me and also met his own François. A guy who helped him get out of that life. Paul went on to study accounting and lives with his partner Jean in Bordeaux.
Jean won’t come though, as he’s much older and a sort of recluse. He doesn’t like people and keeps himself busy managing his little bakery in town. Always using the fact that people rely on him to make sure they can get their bread or croissants as an excuse to not go anywhere. Paul, on the other hand, is more of a social butterfly and fun to hang out with. I think you’re going to like him.”
“Great. I’m sure I will.”
I had to explain to my dad over the phone why we were having an event, since he recalls Philippe saying he didn’t want to get married.
“It’s more symbolic, with a legal contract sealing our partnership, Dad.”
“Oh, ok. Makes sense. This Philippe guy is a very pragmatic person, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He is.”
“I haven’t been to Paris in decades, so this will be fun. Jessica will be game, I just know it. She’s been nowhere really, spending most of her twenties and thirties studying and building her career. I’ll let her know now and she can put in some leave. We’ll be there, son.”
“Thanks, Dad. It’ll mean a lot for me and Philippe that you came.”
“See you on the twenty-first then.”
We talk a little more about the difficulties my dad’s been having adjusting to my departure from the office and then we hang up.
***
Philippe booked the club, as promised, and between having a dance session once a day, every day, to rehearse for our showcase, and organizing everything for our special day, time flies by.
We have special matching black suits made, with red silk sashes, to match the Latin-American theme of our wedding, which I’m calling it regardless of what Philippe says.
Suddenly, the day before our wedding day arrives and I’m shocked to realize by tomorrow, this time, I’ll be married to Philippe Chauvet. How things have changed. I never imagined I would be marrying someone. Only a few months ago, I was still a naïve virgin with stupid ideas of what love is all about.
I just hope nothing happens to ruin the excitement I feel right at this moment in time.
Later, Stéphane drives me to collect my dad and Jessica from the airport, and we check them into a hotel in the Rue de Rennes, Montparnasse.
My dad comes to help me get ready as he insists I stay in the hotel with him and Jessica for the night.
“It’s customary for the bride and groom not to see each other the night before their wedding.” He says sternly.
“But dad. Sorry to state the obvious, but there’s no bride.”
“I don’t care.” He insists.
Philippe pulls me aside and whispers in my ear, “It’s romantic, in a way. Listen to your father.”
“Ok, then.” But I pout to show I’m not happy.
Philippe kisses my expression away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Today is our wedding day!
I barely slept a wink last night and woke up with an uneasy stomach and can barely eat or drink anything. I’m not sure if it is the enormity of what we’re about to do or the fact that I’ll be dancing in front of people I know and don’t know. Some of them being professional dancers.
So, here I am, with my dad helping me get dressed, while Jessica is in their room doing the same.
My dad’s already wearing his favorite black suit.
“Who would’ve guessed that I’d be at my son’s wedding? So soon. Mr. ’I’m not interested in dating.’” He uses air-quotes to make his point.
“Ok. Ok. Dad.”
“I’m happy for you, son. Philippe looks like a level-headed guy and he definitely loves you. Anyone can see that from a mile away.”
“I know, Dad. I love him, too.”
We finish and at exactly noon, I enter the club with my arm hooked through my dad’s.
Suddenly, I feel a tinge of sadness for Philippe, who has no family here to enjoy the moment with us. But then, the more than twenty people present are now his family. Especially Stéphane, Martine, and Paul, who he nominated as his unofficial best man. He might have lost his biological family but he has created one for himself.
I smile at that.
***Paul is taller and much skinnier than Philippe, with dark brown hair, tied into a ponytail behind his head, and the same brown eyes as Philippe. He also looks older than my better half but has a laid-back demeanor. Typical of someone living a country life.
The woman Philippe got to conduct the ceremony, Casandra, is Philippe’s lawyer, who I believe is an old friend of his that he met through François. She smiles at me as I walk towards her and Philippe waiting for me at the center of the little dance floor.
My dad lets me go, and I stand next to Philippe. Casandra starts the ceremony.
“Welcome everyone to this very special occasion, where we are witnesses to Philippe Chauvet and Evan Kushnir committing themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.”
I’m grateful she’s doing it in English, though her Spanish accent is a little heavy.
She continues, “I believe you both have prepared vows for each other as an indication of your commitment?”
“Yes!” Both Philippe and I say in unison.
“They speak as one voice. That’s a good sign,” she jokes and everyone claps and cheers.
“Would you like to go first, Philippe?”
He clears his throat.
“My sweetest, Evan, mon chéri. I promise to honor you and be there for you for the rest of my life and am so grateful that I met you. Though, we’ve had a rocky beginning, I want you to know that I am and will always love you and try my very best to make you happy each and every day. Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi. (I will always love you). You make me complete and I’m so lucky to have found you. Especially, since I never thought there was someone else for me after François passed. You are my light and my everything, and it is my deepest desire to make you happy for as long as we both shall live.”
My eyes tear up but I swallow hard to try and compose myself.
“Evan?” Casandra asks.
My eyes keep welling up but I persist.
“Philippe Chauvet. I cannot believe that I have been this lucky to find someone, considering I wasn’t even looking. I love you with all of my heart and if we are an ounce as happy as my mom and dad were, (I look over to my dad who is making as if there is something in his eye), then I know you will feel as loved as I want you to be. It is my promise to you that I will honor and respect you for all of our time together and ensure that you never forget that you are my hero and my best friend. You bring out the best in me and make me surprise myself. You see me for who I am, regardless of my fears and for who I can become. I love you, Philippe, and will love you so until the day I die.” As I finish, tears slide down my cheeks. Philippe’s eyes well up.
“You have made a commitment to each other in front of your family and friends and thus I invite you to that table over there,” she points at a nearby table, “and sign an agreement to be partners in everything from this day onwards.”
We go and do as she says and return to her.
“I now pronounce you legally partners in life and love. You may kiss each other now to seal the bond you have just made between yourselves.”
Philippe grabs me and kisses me hard, dipping me backwards in the process, like something out of a movie.
Everyone cheers and I hear whistles.
Philippe brings me back up and turns us around to face everyone.
“It’s done! He’s mine,” he exclaims loudly.
Cheers erupt again from everyone present, and I blush.
Each and every person present makes their way over to congratulate us. I speak to Rémi, Jacques, Alice, Henry, and all the others we have invited.
Even Stéphane has a beautiful blonde woman of about his age at his side, and she gives us both a peck on each check and congratulates us in French.
Martine has a nice looking young guy at her side but he looks a bit bewildered. I find out later that she had met him only yesterday and that he was Polish, on holiday in Paris. She introduced herself to him at the Louvre and invited him to a gay wedding after they had hooked up.
I chuckle when she tells me. Typical Martine!
After everyone finished congratulating us, we sit down for lunch with soft Latin-American music playing in the background.
Lunch consists of Argentinian steak and salad with French sorbet as dessert. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was and eat everything put in front of me. After, we all indulge in exotic cocktails, each one choosing his or her own preference from the menu.
We’re all seated at separate tables, and Philippe and I are alone at our own table adjacent to the dance floor. When we finish eating, Philippe pulls me over to sit on his lap and we kiss lovingly.
“Hey, leave it for the honeymoon, you two!” my dad yells out from one of the tables behind us. Some of the guests who understand him laugh and explain it to the others, who then chuckle themselves.
“We never even spoke about that, Philippe. Are we planning to go anywhere?” I throw my arms around his neck and gaze into his beautiful golden eyes.
“It’s a surprise, mon chéri.” He gives me that mischievous grin of his.
“Oh,” is all I say.
“But now, we dance!” Philippe pushes me off him, and I stand, stepping aside for him to join me. He takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor.
