Chapitre Un

I can see the old white-clay house in which I live from the payphone booth. It is beautiful, basking in a warm golden light, the flower pots in front adding a lovely touch of color to the otherwise arid color scheme. "Mother, I am on my way home now."

"Yes, I have picked up bread-"

"Oui, the prices have rised. Seventeen francs for one baguette! I am beginning to think it would save us some francs if we just bought the ingredients and made our own."

"Oh yes, I may have forgotten you are not in any shape to leave your bed."

"No, no! It is not like that! I do care about you, Mother!"

"Thank God, Mother, I almost believed you really were unhappy with me. I also bought you a camembert, and I will be sure to keep Honoré from eating it himself."

"Well, I would like to get this bread and cheese to you quickly, so I must bid you à plus tard."

After placing the telephone down, I begin to rummage through my purse. "Three francs for two minutes on the telephone? My, the prices for everything have inflated!" The golden coins glisten during the brief moment they are out. Clink. They make a delightful sound as they are inserted into the coin slot. I take a step back and admire the countryside of my hometown, Lyon. Beautiful meadows filled with wildflowers of all varieties, quaint clay and stone cottages, even the payphone booth was constructed of a beautiful antiqued white wood. Soon I will be leaving this all behind to attend the Université d'Orléans. The joy is washed away with the sorrow of abandoning my family. With my father long since deceased and my mother severely ill, it is my responsibility to care for the few relatives I have left. The air wafting through the small shopping centre is warm and smells of fresh pastries such as eclairs and charlotte. Oh, how I did love chocolate charlotte as a young child- when my mother was young and healthy, she would make it whenever something called for a celebration. Now I favor lemon curd charlotte, but there will always be a special place in my heart for its cacao-flavored counterpart. "Oh, I suppose one petit chocolate charlotte wouldn't hurt," I surrender, giving in to the urge to treat myself. My mother will surely be very displeased with me for spending extra with the economy like this, but I could always say it is a treat to share with Honoré. 

Jingle, jingle, go the bells attached to the pâtisserie door. It is a musical sound, reintroducing a warm and fuzzy feeling of contentment which I have not felt in quite a while. It also triggers a familiar voice. "Ah, if it is not Chantal! I cannot remember the last time you came here. You are going to buy a mint delice for your brother, non?" The voice belongs to Henri, the pâtissier. He is a kind young man of about twenty-seven years, with a fondness for champagne and a bubbly personality to match. I smile, showing off a certain grin which can only be directed at an old friend. "Bonjour, Henri! I have not been able to come, as my mother's condition has worsened. She requires more care now than ever before. Et the economy is not so great either." Henri nods. "Oui, oui. Normally in times like this I raise my prices, but for you I will offer a discount. Regular price." He begins to pull a mint delice from the pastry display, but I shake my head no. "Today I am buying a chocolate charlotte. For myself." With a raise of his eyebrows, Henri puts the delice back, and instead picks up a chocolate charlotte. After placing it in an intricately embellished box, he exchanges it with the ten franc coins in my hands. "Merci, Chantal. Adieu!" I nod and return the valediction.

"Chantal, ma soeur, is that you?" I smile. It's Honoré, my young brother, playing chess with his ami Jacques. "Oui, Honoré." I enter the living room and lean up against the doorframe, smile still plastered on my face. Honoré catches sight of me with his large, shining bright blue eyes. He got them from our father, no doubt. My mother and I both have dull grey irises, but they do look quite pretty when they reflect light. "Chantal, will you play versus the victor?" Honoré loves to do nothing more than eat pastries, play chess, and use large words you would not think a child his age would know. "I'm sorry, Honoré dearest," I say sympathetically, "but I must bring this bread and cheese to Mother. You know how much time I must spend taking care of her." My eyes must be sorrowful, for Honoré's mirror dolefulness. I am almost a grown woman, and I know the right thing to do is chose caring for your ill mother over playing chess with your brother. But I do honestly yearn to engage in childish games, and chess is a wonderful game for your brain. Honoré frowns and I cannot bear to see him sad. I rush up the stairs so I do not have to.

"Bonjour, Chantal!" My mother is lying in her bed, her once-beautiful face ravaged by sickness and hardship, yet she is still capable of keeping some joy in her fading voice. I try my best to smile and not cry as I greet her. "I brought you some bread, and Benoît's finest camembert." The smile fades from her face. "You spent extra francs just to buy fine cheese? Even with the country's financial situation?" She is obviously unhappy with my decision. "I was just trying to cheer you up! You aren't doing well at all!" I almost scream. My mother has a shocked expression upon her face, and I cover my mouth in horror. I race back down the stairs. Honoré is curled up, alone and asleep, in his favorite chair. Jacques' mother must have taken him home while I was with my mother. As I walk by, I tousle 's hair. He is an adorable young boy, and I love him with all my heart. I always wish I could spend more time taking care of him. 

After the confrontation with my mother, I feel that I need some sugar in my life. I cut two slices of charlotte and place one on the endtable by Honoré's head. As I frantically dig into my slice, I hear my mother calling my name. 

"Oui, Mother?" 

"Louise left some homemade honeysuckle sorbet when she came today. She also cleaned up your room, apparently there was clothing all over the floor. The sorbet is in the icebox."

"Oh, thank you. And Mother, there's something I'd like to tell you."

"Ce qui, Chantal?"

"I'm sorry for using such a harsh tone of voice towards you, I just-"

"It's quite all right, mon bébé en sucre. This camembert is delectable. As is the baguette."

"Thank you. And since Benoît understands the condition you are in, he gave me a discount on the cheese."

Then all goes silent except the sounds of my mother humming "Au Claire De La Lune" to herself and Honoré's shallow breathing. I head outside to the icebox to retrieve the honeysuckle sorbet. "Bonjour, Chantal!" Turning my head I see my neighbor and housekeeper, Louise, waving at me. "Bonjour! My mother told me that you left some sorbet in our icebox today. It sounds irresistable!" I call back. Louise just nods with a warm smile reaching across her face. I reach into the frigid icebox and pull out a container filled with a pink ice-like sorbet. My mouth begins to water as I open it, with the sweet fragrance entering my nostrils and numbing all feelings of sadness in my heart. If the scent alone has a therapeutic affect, I cannot fathom what its taste will do. 

Honoré begins to awaken as I place a bowl of sorbet next to his charlotte slice. His bright eyes widen as he sees the feast of desserts laid out near him, and pretends to faint. I laugh, and he laughs with me. "Did you really spend all this money," he gestures to the food, "on me?" I shake my head. "I only spent ten francs on you. Louise made the sorbet and gave it to us. But don't worry," I say, as I poke his nose, "I would have spent as many francs as needed to make you happy." Most children would try to get you to spend money expensive luxuries if you told them that, but not Honoré. He is not a greedy child, and such a thought would never cross his mind. We both start enjoying our treats together, talking and laughing about enjoyable experiences we've had together. Most notable was going very far up north to see the Eiffel Tower and eating an elegant dinner at the Le Jules Verne restaurant.  "Chantal, do you want to know why I wanted to talk about the things we've done together?" Honoré asks. I nod, slightly troubled by his question. "Because you'll be leaving for college soon."