Chapter 13 Luc
I don’t have time to dwell on it, which is probably a good thing.
Who knows if I’d be able to pick myself back up otherwise?
Now, whether I like it or not, there are other things I have to focus on.
As of this coming Saturday, I won’t have a place to stay.
And given that Cody won’t be the solution, there’s only one person I can turn to: my father.
He’s not going to make this easy for me.
Because even though I hate admitting it, I brought this upon myself.
When I moved out of his house, I made a big deal out of it, telling him I was going to live somewhere more central, have loads of space, and be accompanied by a person who would give me much more freedom than he ever did.
I’m pretty sure I bragged about it, and I regret that, because now I have to go crawling back, begging to get my old room back.
It’s about the last thing I want to do, but I see no other alternative.
I need a place to stay, and I need it fast. Three days are not nearly enough to find a new rental apartment.
Maybe if Maxime had given me more notice, I could have looked for other options, but how am I going to move somewhere else in such a short time?
It’s going to cost me; I already know that. I’m sure my father will give me extra shifts or new tasks at the shop in exchange—all the annoying ones—and no doubt the conversation will cost me a piece of my dignity. He might even start criticizing my life choices.
I think I know where to find him at this hour. Seeing as he’s had to cover my shifts, he’ll probably be at the cake shop, so that’s where I’ll go. But when I arrive, I’m surprised to find it’s not him standing behind the counter. It’s a woman, working my job, wearing my apron.
Merde, what is it about today? Why do I keep finding unfamiliar women in the places that should belong to me? First with Cody, now this. It feels like I’m being edged out of my own life.
“Who are you?” I hear myself asking her in French, and to my discontent, it already sounds like a repetition of the conversation I just had at Cody’s house. Not this again. “Did my father hire you?” I quickly add.
She gives me a searching stare. Claire, it says on her name tag. “Are you Pierre’s son?” she asks me in French. I nod. “Oui, he hired me.”
“When? For which shifts?”
“Last week. I work most of the afternoon shifts.”
I let out a deep sigh. That makes it official; my father replaced me, just like everyone else did. First Maxime, then Cody, now him. I’m without a place to live, a job, and a potential boyfriend, and it doesn’t feel like I have anything left.
“Those are my shifts. He wasn’t supposed to give them to someone else!”
Claire shrugs. “He said you disappeared, and he needed to keep his business running.”
“I did not disappear! I only took a break, and now I want my shifts back, so you can leave.”
Claire looks determined. Not a good sign. “I don’t want to leave! I like this job, and I need the money.”
“Too bad, this is my job! I can pay you for the remaining hours of this shift, but you need to go. This place belongs to me and my dad.”
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “He told me the store is his, so maybe we should ask him.”
“Fine, let’s see whose side he chooses. That of his son or an employee he met only a week ago.”
Truth be told, I’m less confident than I sound.
My father is nothing if not practical. If for some reason he thinks Claire’s more efficient, more reliable, he won’t hesitate to let her steal my job from under my nose.
He’ll fire me and consider it a lesson I needed to learn.
I hope I’m wrong, but if I’m not, I don’t think I can forgive him for that.
While trying to keep a neutral face to hide my worry from Claire, I quickly pull my phone from my pocket and dial my dad’s number.
“All??” he says when he picks up. The calmness of his voice is in such severe contrast to my stress that it frustrates me already.
“Dad, can you come to the store?” I blurt out. “There’s a problem.”
For a moment, there’s a silence on the other end of the line. “I take it you met Claire?” he eventually asks.
“I sure did.”
“And you can’t work this out together?”
“No, she won’t budge.” At that statement, Claire glares at me from behind the counter, but I don’t care.
My father lets out a sigh. “D’accord, I’ll be there in an hour. Try to work together in the meantime.”
“An hour? Seriously?!”
“I’m not nearby. Figure something out.”
I consider telling him, “Why should I?” But I swallow the words. If I do anything to make him think that, of the two of us, Claire’s the more stable hard worker, he won’t think twice about keeping her instead of me.
He hangs up, and I look at Claire. “He’s coming, but it’ll take a while. In the meantime, we need to figure something out.”
She frowns but doesn’t protest. After a few seconds, she nods briefly. “But there’s only one apron.”
I sigh again. “The one you’re wearing is my apron. My dad has one too, but it’s far too big for either of us.”
She bites her lip, and for a moment I think I see guilt crossing her face. But whether or not it’s there, she doesn’t say anything, silently refusing to give me back my apron.
She should back the hell off if you ask me.
This is my family, my store—or as good as, anyway.
There’s no place for her here, just as there shouldn’t be a place for that woman at Cody’s house.
These are my spaces, my safe spots. I let them out of my sight for a second, and now I’ve been replaced.
All I needed was some time to learn to appreciate what I had, but I wasn’t granted it. It’s not fair.
To Claire, it may just be an apron we’re talking about, just a job, but it’s so much more. When she shows no inclination to take it off, I reluctantly head to the back to grab my dad’s apron and put it on. I’d rather be a part of this place in a way that doesn’t entirely suit me than not at all.
“My father says we should try to work together,” I tell Claire.
She looks at me, eyeing the apron that, as we already established, is way too large for me, but she doesn’t mention it. She meets my gaze instead.
“You don’t look very excited about that.”
“I’m not. I’m having an awful day, and being forced to work with you is another low point.”
Given that I don’t know her and I’m already insulting her, trying to get rid of her, she’s handling this surprisingly well.
“Well, seeing as neither of us plans to leave, maybe we should try it.”
I frown at her. “Why won’t you leave? If the roles were reversed and I was at your parent’s store, where you worked, how would you feel if I replaced you from one day to the next and wouldn’t give you your job back?”
“Probably as bad as you do right now. But honestly, you also look like the type of person who wouldn’t budge if you needed the job, so fair is fair.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Admittedly, she’s right about that, but regardless, this is going to be a very long hour.
***
When my father finally arrives, Claire and I have found a way to at least tolerate each other.
She’s working on an order that came in this morning, and I keep myself fairly busy helping customers.
This way, we don’t have to talk to each other or be in each other’s way.
At some point, she actually states that this way of working is quite practical, but I’ll never admit that—not out loud anyway.
“Looks like you two found a way to work together,” my dad says in French as he enters, looking mildly impressed.
“For now,” I reply, glancing at Claire. “I suppose she’s tolerable, but I really need my job back, Dad. My job and . . .”
“And what?”
My old room. It should be easy, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.
It’s embarrassing enough to admit without Claire here, a complete stranger who wiggled herself into my life when I wasn’t paying attention.
She doesn’t need to know just how pathetic I am. Having to face my dad is bad enough.
“And what, Luc?” my dad repeats, more impatient.
“Can we talk in private?”
“No, son, I hired Claire because you weren’t here. It’s her job now too, so if we’re going to discuss this, she deserves to hear it as well.”
“It’s not just about the job. I also need my . . . my old room back. Which is why we should talk privately.”
Out of reflex, I glance over at Claire to see her reaction. I might care too much about what strangers think, but I can’t help it. I’m a private person, my life is my own, and I hate that she has to be here during my moment of vulnerability.
My dad frowns at me. “I thought you had another place to live?”
“I did, but I don’t anymore. Please, Dad?”
I can tell we’re both thinking back to when I was bragging about my new place and telling him I wasn’t going to come back. How wrong was I?
Now, I can only hope he won’t mention it. This is embarrassing enough as it is.
“I must say, Luc, you told me you weren’t coming back, and you sounded like you meant it, so I reorganized the place. It’s not the way you left it.”
“I don’t care.” I’m relieved he’s not dragging me for this. Maybe it’s because Claire is here. If that’s the reason, her presence will have benefited me after all.
“Alright. Just know there’s some equipment in there. It’s pretty big, but you’re free to move it if you’re able, and if you can find a place where it won’t be in the way.”
“Equipment?” I ask, confused. “What kind of equipment?”
His expression turns cold. “Do you want the room or not?”
“Yes, yes, I do, thank you. The room and . . . my job back.”
Claire has been quiet until now. “I need the job too, Monsieur Pierre! Please don’t fire me!”
She sounds more desperate than I would have expected, and because of it, she’s already doing a good job pleading with him.
I try to make a case for myself by telling him, “I’m your son!
” with my eyes. I don’t dare to say it out loud—he would probably think it’s whiny and desperate, which it perhaps is.
“Well, seeing as you both want the job, you two will need to find a way to make it work. You seemed capable of that just now, so how’s this: I’ve been meaning to cut back, so Claire, you can take the weekend morning shifts. Luc, the weekend afternoon. The rest you’ll have to split fifty-fifty.”
“But dad!” I say as Claire says, “But monsieur!”
He raises his hand, shushing us. “That’s my final decision. You can take it or leave it, both of you.”
I glare at him. So much for being his son; that hasn’t worked in my favor.
He should have picked me without hesitation, but instead, I’m still competing with this woman who doesn’t belong here.
I’m still stuck with a half-ass solution I don’t want.
But it’s not as if I’m going to refuse it; I still know it’s better than nothing.
And given that Claire is also silent, I think she believes the same thing.
“Take the rest of the day off, Luc, and get your stuff in order. Do you still have your key to the house?”
“I do,” I reply.
Part of me wants to tell him that this will only be temporary, that I met somebody I really like who I can hopefully move in with, and maybe I could .
. . but I don’t think I should. It’s not that my father’s a homophobe—he doesn’t care who’s with whom—it’s more that everything having to do with love is pointless to him, including when it’s me who’s in love.
No, telling him that won’t do me any good.
He probably won’t believe me when I tell him it’s temporary anyway, and who could blame him after the last time?
Before I leave, and when my father’s out of hearing distance, Claire unexpectedly places her hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Luc. I didn’t want to get between you and your dad. It’s just, I lost my previous job and I’m already behind on rent, so I really need this paycheck. Maybe, in time, I can find something else, and you can get your shifts back. You could help me look.”
It’s nice of her to say that, but I can’t manage a smile, not today. All I can do is nod and murmur, “Peut-être.”
Maybe. That’s what my life has become—an endless string of hollow maybes, none of them leading anywhere. How is it that everything’s fallen apart in just one day?