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| Kane |
During her final night in Cannes, she gave her room number to one of the waiters in the hotel’s restaurant. They ended up having a very romantic night, as she would describe it to me almost 30 years later.
When she got back to Los Angeles, she realized she was pregnant. With me. She immediately realized who the father was, but also that she didn't know that much about him. She didn’t know of any way to contact him. She didn't even remember the name of the restaurant.
She had decided to keep the baby. Even though she was only 25, her career as a movie star was over. Rumors about the father started to grow louder and louder around Hollywood, especially when she wasn’t seen with any man. The movie world turned their back on my mother, and she turned her back on them. She wasn’t given any more parts, her agency dropped her. She was well aware that she was choosing between me and her career, but she told me later that she never regretted the choice. And she was determined to raise me outside of the spotlights. My childhood was very normal, despite growing up in a single parent household.
Earlier this year my Mom got ill. Even though I’d never had much interest in finding my father, she insisted she tell me all she knew about him, so I at least had the option. She had written down a few things about him and given it to me.
“You never know where the internet might get ya”, she’d said.
She passed away a week later, on the first day of February, aged 55. On the day of her passing, I found the note in my pocket, all scrunched up. I had realized it would always be the last thing she had given me.
And now I was here in France. In June. Four months later. Despite not feeling like I had ever missed having a father, not having a parent at all had been an odd feeling. And even though it was a long shot, I decided to try and find my father. The internet hadn’t gotten me very far. So I decided to make the trip.
I pulled out the note to show Fabien.
PHILIPPE
ORIGINALLY FROM VÉZELAY
WORKED IN A FANCY RESTAURANT IN CANNES, IN MAY 1991
BROWN HAIR, BLUE EYES
+/- 55 YEARS OLD IN 2021
“I know it’s not a lot of information”, I said. “But I figured I could at least try.”
Fabien looked at the note in silence. He turned to Malik and spoke in French for a while. He returned the note to me.
“I don’t know Philippe in this town”, he said, a sadness in his expression and tone.
“I know, it’s a long shot. But I figured I had a better chance here than in Cannes. And at least I get a nice trip out of it.”
“Peut-être que Justine il connait”, Malik said.
Fabien nodded and addressed me.
“Tomorrow, I take you to woman who live here in Vézelay her whole life. We ask her.”
I was touched by Fabien’s willingness to help.
“Really, you would do that?”
“Yes! You look for your Papa! I must help.”
I gave both Fabien and Malik a big hug.
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| Fabien |
“Thanks so much for doing this for me”, I said.
“Is no problem, Kane.”
His smile was beautiful and infectious. I learned that his defined chest would always catch my eye, even in the relatively loose blue T-shirt he wore today.
He showed me the way to Justine’s house as we walked up the hill.
“I saw the basilique yesterday. It’s so amazing how long it’s been there.”
Fabien smiled.
“Yes, is very old. I am happy you do the thing I advise!”
When I saw that something I did had made Fabien happy, something fluttered in my stomach.
“I am little nervous”, Fabien said as we walked up the narrow streets.
“Why?”, I asked.
“I really hope Justine can help. And if she know your Papa, I hope I do good to translate.”
“Don’t worry about it too much”, I said.
The odds of this Justine knowing my father seemed small to me, I told Fabien. It was likely he hadn’t lived here for over 30 years. But again, it was worth the effort.
I told Fabien that even if Justine would not be able to give me any more clues, I would drive even further south to Cannes anyway. It was unlikely I would find him without any further information in such a large city, but I wanted to see it anyway. It was where my parents had met.
“And by the way, your English is great!”, I told Fabien, realizing what he said about translating. “Don’t worry about that either.”
He smiled again.
Just then Fabien stopped at a door. Below the number it said ‘Mme Justine Saint-Pierre’.
“You ready?”, he asked.
I nodded. He rang the doorbell and knocked a few times.
“You have the note?”
I tapped the pocket of my shorts where I put the note this morning and nodded again.
It took a while, but finally the door opened and a tiny woman was revealed to me.
“Justine!”, Fabien said.
He bent forward and gave her two kisses.
“Fabien…”, her old, creaking voice managed to produce.
Her curly grey hair didn’t make it down to her shoulders. She was hunched forward, making her look even smaller. Her arm was trembling as it touched Fabien’s shoulder when he leaned in. She told him something in French. Fabien responded and then gestured towards me.
“C’est mon ami Américain, Kane.”
“Bonjour madame”, I said.
Only now I saw her cane.
“Bonjour”, she said.
She hobbled towards me, making it clear she was expecting two kisses from me as well. I bent forward and obliged. She was at least in her 80s.
Justine said something, and by her gestures I could tell she wanted us to enter. Fabien and I followed her inside and walked slowly as she made it to her living room. The floral wallpaper made me smile as it reminded me of the hotel room. There was a musty smell and everything looked like it had been the same for decades.
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| Fabien |
“We sit and wait. She make tea.”
“I don’t really drink tea”, I said.
“Is old people. Drink the tea”, Fabien said.
We both laughed. I knew what he meant.
“She say it was long time that she have two beautiful men in her house.”
I chuckled. I liked this Justine already.
We patiently waited. The ticking of the old-fashioned wall clock was making me nervous. Finally Justine came back in the living room with a tray full of cups, a jug and a plate of cookies. Fabien immediately got up to help her.
When she sat down, Fabien started explaining in French why we were here. I smelled the tea and started sipping it. I wasn’t a fan, but I wanted to be polite. After a short explanation, Justine turned to me and addressed me. She reached over, took my hand and stroked it. I looked at her as she spoke French and I didn’t catch a single word.
Eventually Fabien translated.
“She like that your Papa is from Vézelay. She say she have… 91 years. And live all her life in Vézelay.”
“91, wow!”, I said out loud.
I was impressed. And I wondered how good her memory would be. I would be even more impressed if she did indeed remember my Dad.
“She want you to tell her everything you know about him.”
I smiled. I reached inside my pocket and pulled out the note. I told Justine everything on the note and Fabien translated. I also told her about the night in Cannes in 1991. Once I was done, Justine nodded, let go of my hand and finally sat back in her chair.
There was a silence of what must have been 15 seconds, but it felt longer. It felt like the clock ticked louder and slower. And then Justine started speaking. Fabien nodded and listened at first, but at one point took his phone out and started taking notes.
Justine definitely had a lot to say and I could tell she didn’t speak very quickly. But I was patient. The more she spoke, the more I felt like she may actually know my Dad. When she finished, I looked at Fabien. I was hopeful. He turned to me. He looked serious.
“She think she know”, he said. “She remember man and woman move to Vézelay in 1964, maybe 1965. Jean-Claude and Antoinette. Young couple, they very pretty and very smart, she say. They work as… avocate…. Uhm… law?”
“Lawyer?”
“Yes!”
I smiled. I looked at Justine and she was smiling at me, waiting for me to absorb the information.
“They have two sons, Phillippe and Serge in the years 60.”
I didn’t expect to feel the feelings I was feeling. My heart was pounding in my chest.
“Phillippe move to south of France for university but not finish. Justine remember Antoinette was disappoint. Serge move to Paris. Justine think he is doctor.”
Fabien looked at his phone.
“Last time she see Phillippe and Serge is when Jean-Claude die. In 2012.”
“What about Antoinette?”
“In 2012 she move to uhm… facility?”
I nodded.
“Justine not know if she alive.”
“Phillippe…”, Fabien continued. “Justine know he have restaurant in Cannes in 2012. And have house in Cannes too.”
“He owns a restaurant? Or does he work there?”
“He own! He own.”
“Wow, cool.”
“Does she know what it’s called?”
“No.”
Justine was staring straight ahead, out of the window. Fabien looked at her. It was like we were waiting for something and I hadn’t immediately put it together.
“Vernier!”, she suddenly said. “Jean-Claude et Antoinette Vernier.”
“So, Phillippe Vernier”, Fabien concluded.
I got emotional.
“Merci. Merci beaucoup”, I told Justine as I took her hand.
She smiled a smile and I could tell she was missing a tooth.
She continued to speak. Fabien translated that there have been many men named Phillippe in Vézelay, but this was the only one who moved to the south and he happened to now have his own restaurant. I agreed that it was likely that this Phillippe Vernier was my father.
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| Fabien |
“That was intense”, I said.
I looked at Fabien and he nodded.
“Thank you so much”, I told him.
He looked at me and I could tell he was emotional. I stopped him from walking more and gave him a hug.
“Thanks”, I repeated, “it means so much.”
“I hope you find Papa. Happy to help you.”
I told Fabien I needed to go to my room to gather my thoughts. We exchanged phone numbers so he could send me a screenshot of his notes. He told me to take my time, but that if I wanted, I was welcome to come hang out.
“Just send message, OK?”
I nodded. I thanked him once more.
I laid down in bed and tried to process all that had just happened. It had just become much likelier that I would actually meet my father during this trip. Although it made me a little nervous, I did decide that this is something I wanted. Without having any expectations, I just wanted to see what he was like. And most of all, he was probably unaware of my existence. He deserved to know.
I got a text. Fabien Brousseau. He had entered his full name into my phone. I smiled. What a beautifully French last name. I looked at the notes he’d sent me. Phillippe Vernier. I wondered if my mother had remembered the name of the restaurant back in 1991, if my name would have been Kane Vernier. I chuckled out loud at the thought. My first name may not have been a reference to the city I was conceived in either.
I decided to give Google a shot. Phillippe Vernier was too common a name, so I added ‘Cannes’ to my search. I gasped at the first hit.
‘Cannes Restaurant Indigo to Receive Michelin Star’
The name of his restaurant was Indigo. He was doing well. His name was mentioned in the article. He got the star in 2014. There were many other hits, mainly in French. When I had the clarity to try Google Images I saw my father for the first time.
Brown hair, blue eyes. He fit the description on the note. I recognized myself in the shape and bone structure of his face. His hair was a little messy. His eyes seemed joyful. Now I was even more excited to meet him. The restaurant still existed, there was a website, a menu… an address.
I put my phone down and looked at the ceiling, needing a moment to process this as well. Excitement was my main emotion now, and I decided to drive to Cannes the next morning. I realized this meant saying goodbye to Fabien, which made me sad. I owed him so much for his help.
I saw Cannes was a 7 hour drive. I booked a hotel there. Just as I finished, I checked my Instagram. I couldn’t help search for Fabien Brousseau. I found his profile and I was in awe of his beautiful face. It didn’t take much scrolling to see his shirtless body.
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| Fabien |
I sent Fabien a text to say I was ready to hang out.
‘Yes! Come! I play football with Malik. I send you where.’
He sent me his location on the other side of town. I walked there in under 15 minutes. I found the two of them shirtless and covered in sweat, kicking a soccer ball around. I subconsciously licked my lips and watched them for a little while. Malik also had an amazing body, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Fabien. His ass in his tight, short shorts as he ran back and forth got me hard.
“Salut!”
Malik had spotted me.
“Hi”, I replied, smiling.
Fabien turned and waved as they both walked towards me. Their sweaty chests touched my covered own, as they each kissed me on both cheeks.
We walked over to a bench where they had left their shirts. Thankfully, they didn’t put them on just yet, but they sat down and made room for me to sit next to them. From the bench I could look across a beautiful green, hilly landscape. France was beautiful.
I told Fabien that with Google I had seen a photo of my Dad for the first time and I had found the name of the restaurant.
“I wanted to say thank you so much, without you I couldn’t have done it.”
He grinned, put his arm around my neck to pull me in and kissed my hair. I smelled his sweaty musk.
“I was happy helping, he said.
He then asked me if I was going to Cannes. I nodded.
“Tomorrow morning.”
He had a sad smile. Suddenly he took out his phone. He turned to Malik and said something in French. Malik seemed to have a positive response.
Fabien returned to me. He explained that his other friends, Benoît and Guillaume had invited them to hang out in Guillaume’s garden.
“For last day in Vézelay, you like to play around the pool and drink alcohol and lay in the sun?”
“S-sure!”
Another emotionally tense story. And another cracker. I can’t wait for part 3.
ReplyDeleteAnd I do hope it’s going to be a multi-parter. It’s sooo hot.
ReplyDelete