Fragment #11 - Louis' birthday party

I push the door open with my back and make my way to the kitchen. I drop the bags of groceries on the table, and shout "I'm home!". Charlie comes in the room and with her own, sweet way, kisses me. I cut it short because I don't want to unease Louis, whom I can hear in the living room. I whisper "How was your day?" but she's already gone. Never mind. I know she's not fully mine these days. And I also know that she'll never be for good. She's too... independant. Uncatchable. Like the wind. What a cliché! I giggle silently. I can hear them speak in French in the other room. Ok, let's start this.
I fold my sleeves up, and wash my hands. Tonight, I'm the chef, and no one is allowed in my kitchen! I decided to cook for Louis. No real receipe but feeling and instinct. And some good advice from Gran. Always trust your nose, and relay on the products rather than on the paper!
I get the turkey in the oven. Ok, this is going pretty well. The main dish is off to be cooked, I can focus on the starters and dessert. I start cutting the carrots when the bell rings. Charlie gets the door and Paul and Emma get in. They stop by to say hi, and then Charlie takes them through to meet the hero of the day. On that occasion, Charlie lingers here a little, tasting the sauce and kissing me. She's wearing a pair of jeans, and a very nice black shirt. Hum... I could eat her right here and now, but I know best. Having guests of course changes what you use to do when being alone. And I kind of appreciate -surprisingly enough - this lingering and frustrating feeling of not being allowed to touch her the way I want. And I really like Louis. He has got the intelligence of the heart.
The bell again, Sasha gets in, wearing a surprisingly warm coat. She gives me a hug, grabs a glass and off she goes. Five minutes later, Cameron and Sara follow, and I lead them through to the living room. Louis is sitting between Paul and Charlie, who both speak perfect French and just now Sasha is talking about her trip to the South last summer. Paul is translating now and then when Louis doesn't get something, adding the little details that would make the four of them (with Emma) laugh their heads off. I get back to the kitchen after a little nod to Charlie.
Soon, the door bell rings again, and Vince and his girlfriend Frances come in. I invited them, because I want Charlie to meet Frances. And also, because I need Vince with me. Life is getting a bit crazy nowadays and I want my best mate with me to help me out. Charlie gets them introduced to the rest of the party, and things get started with the drinks.
After a little while, Charlie and Paul come in my lair, and have a wee chat. I try not to listen, although I already know what Charlie is going to tell him. It's like having a replay of our conversation from yesterday night. Except that it's in French. And that it's damn fast. While Charlie is whispering urgently, Paul sits down, and looks at me. I get the whisky bottle out and fix him a dram. He drinks bottoms up, and signs for another. I look at Charlie. She nods, and gives her brother a hug, and gets back to the living room. Paul stands up, and walks to stand next me, looking at what I'm doing with empty eyes. We stay silent for a moment.
"You knew?"
"Only since yesterday night, Paul. And Charlie only actually found out Friday afternoon."
"Does Dad know?"
"Well, not entirely yet, no. He knows about your granny not being his... real mother. I mean, his biological mother. But I don't think he has any idea of having brothers, or sisters."
"It's so..."
I put a hand on his shoulder.
"I know Paul. But give Louis a chance. He is good. A real good person."
"Oh, I know that. But still..." He sighs and then smiles a little.
"What is it, Paul?" He starts walking back to the living room, the smile spreading a little more every seconds.
"Not much. I was just thinking that if I knew that was coming, I would probably want nobody else than Louis to be my oncle d'Amérique." And off he goes. Nice, kid.

I'm fixing the last touch on the starters, when Louis comes in. He looks happy, serene. In peace. I smile at him. I open my mouth to speak and so does he, we talk over each other's voice.
"Hey Steve, ça va ?"
"You ok, Louis? Hum... ça ... ça va?" Crap, I struggle still to find my words.
"Ca va et toi Steve ?"
"Ca va, ça va." It's true, actually. I feel perfectly fine. In the right spot here. I try to tell him. "J'aime la cuisine." Hum, I'm not sure if that's how you say that you like cooking...
"Moi je travaille dans un bar, tu sais, en France. Je m'y connais en cocktails. Tu me comprends ? Understand ?..."
It's hard for him too, but I got most of it. I smile big time at the word cocktail, and put my thumb up.
"Cocktails? sure!! comment s'appelle le bar de toi?"
"Dionysos."
"Hum... sounds good. Hum, c'est... c'est..." Crap, what's the word for good? "beau?" I make a face saying that.
"Très beau, you have to come, with Charlie. OK ?"
"Sure, Louis." It's no false promise. That's what was waiting for Charlie, yesterday night, on her pillow: tickets to go to France. Valentine's present. So corny, Steve. I wink at Louis: "c'est son cadeau de Saint-Valentin, un voyage dans la France."
"C'est vrai ?!" He adds: "True ?"
I blush a little. I knew it was so corny, even French people would laugh. "Oui, je veux..." Arg, bloody French vocabulary... "demander, pour le mariage, sa famille..." Come on, help me out, Louis!
He smiles, puts his hand on my shoulder. He looks so happy. He looks at Charlie, through the open door, and lost in his thought, he smiles.
And that's really beautiful, Louis' smile.