Chapter 24 Cody
The note Luc’s father wrote me says Rue de Bastogne. I have no idea where that street is. It’s a good thing smartphones exist because if I had to ask someone for directions in French, I wouldn’t stand a chance of understanding.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. Unfortunately, I have no missed calls from Luc. I call him again before I search for the address, but it’s no luck. The dial tone keeps sounding, just like before. It proves that Luc isn’t going to make this easy for me. Makes sense, I suppose.
I type Luc’s address into the navigation app.
Before long, a route pops up on the screen.
It’s five minutes by car, twenty minutes on foot, and fifteen minutes by tram.
I don’t have my car here, and walking is almost as fast as taking the tram, perhaps faster if I miss it, so I click the walking option and follow the directions.
After several minutes of walking, I realize I should look around instead of just staring at the map on my phone.
I have no idea what route Luc usually takes home, or if he even went there.
Actually, he might have taken the tram, but in case he hasn’t and is walking the same route as I am, I should keep my eyes peeled.
I have to hope I’ll spot him somewhere. I need to find him.
Fifteen minutes later, I arrive at Luc’s street.
On my way here, there’s been no sign of him, and he still hasn’t returned my calls.
I bring up the note his father gave me and check the number: three forty-two.
The number of the house I’m currently standing in front of is twenty-five, so I still have some way to go.
When I finally reach number three forty-two, there’s no sign of life there.
The windows are shut, the lights are off, and the place seems quiet.
That doesn’t necessarily mean Luc’s not here; he might be in his bedroom, crying, hiding .
. . because of me. Because I’ve been an asshole.
Dammit. Perhaps he’s right for not wanting to talk to me.
Regardless, I step up to the front door and ring the bell. I wait, and it feels like I’m standing here for a long time, listening for any sounds from inside, anxious for him to appear, but it’s completely silent. There are no voices, steps, shuffling . . . nothing.
Disappointment fills me. I have to consider that he’s not here. But then, where else would he go? In my head, I replay the conversation we had in the cake shop. Luc said he wanted to go home, back to France, so maybe . . . he’s at a train station?
An uncomfortable feeling settles in my stomach.
He wouldn’t actually go to France, would he?
Not without saying goodbye. The thought hurts.
My chances of finding him in Brussels are slim, and this is just one city we’re talking about.
Finding him in a large country will be impossible.
I’ll have no chance of finding him if he goes to France, especially since he won’t answer my calls. I hope he hasn’t actually left.
It’s a possibility I have to consider, but maybe I can stop him before he gets on a train.
Quickly, I decide where to look for him next—the nearest station with international trains to France.
I already know from my time here that there are two international stations: Brussels Central and Brussels South.
My navigation app tells me I’m currently closest to Brussels South, so that’s where I’ll go first.
That’s another thing I didn’t expect I’d be doing today: searching a train station for someone.
But it’s what I will do. I’ll search the hall, search all the platforms the international trains depart from, maybe I’ll even ask staff members if they’ve seen him.
It won’t be easy; we’re talking about a large train station in the middle of the day.
It’ll be crowded. Finding Luc or someone who’s seen him seems impossible. If he’s even there at all . . .
Brussels South is only one of two stations I need to visit, and Brussels Central will be even worse. I could be spending hours searching for someone who isn’t even in the country anymore.
I sigh deeply as I enter Brussels South Station, and as I expected, it’s crowded.
Reading the large electronic sign near the entrance tells me the train to Paris leaves from platform five.
But then I read the destinations underneath it and .
. . crap. That’s not the only train going to France.
There are trains to Lille, Strasbourg, Lyon, Marseille, and many others.
This station has countless connections to France, and I have no idea which one Luc would even take.
I try to think back. In the cake shop, Luc told his father we were going to . . . Besancon or something. I think that was it, but I don’t see that town anywhere on the electric board as a destination.
I gather there must not be a train that goes there directly, meaning there are probably several ways of getting there. Crap. Things keep getting worse.
I sigh and start wandering around the station, feeling lost. Luc wasn’t near the cake shop, his father hadn’t seen him since we left there, and Luc also didn’t seem to be at home. I also have no chance of spotting him here, and he won’t answer my calls. So, what now?
Just as I become hopeless, something unexpected happens.
I can’t believe my eyes, but there he is, right in front of me—Luc, sitting on a bench underneath the electronic board and looking miserable.
He’s actually here, at the train station, in the entrance hall.
It makes me think he actually intends to go to France without me, but it doesn’t matter now, because I have a chance to stop him.