Stay pt. 1

Pierre was stumbling near the three foot cement wall by the club we’ve just left and he almost lost his balance and his half lit cigarette. He shortly regained composure and resumed to his story telling. Some of the girls that were with us were giggling at him while they were following him. They always laughed at whatever he said. He was the life of the party and he kept our spirits alive with his words and actions during story time.

I had met Pierre while I was studying abroad in Paris to wrap up my studies for my bachelor’s a year and a half ago. He wasn’t a student, but he was always there when I went out with the other people in my program. There was no way you couldn’t be friends with him. There was something about his presence that relaxed you and allowed you to be who you are without judgment from him. Probably why he attracts so many people to him. The rest is history, but that’s besides the point.

“… and my sister, mon belle Violette, would lie to my mother about where I was so I wouldn’t get into trouble. Can you believe that? How ridiculous.” he laughed.

I liked it when he would talk about his little sister. His eyes would sparkle and the expression on his face would be more genuine. It was at these rare moments when I’d wondered what our life would be like if I ever chose to marry him. Ann and Pierre Minnioux, it has a nice ring to it. I don’t think my family would approve of it, they would probably laugh at us. Don’t get me wrong, they love Pierre, they think he’s a great man who has a kind heart and a lot to give, but they also think that he and I have different goals in life. Basically they think Pierre doesn’t take life as seriously as I do. But what does that matter?

Here I am, though. I’m sitting between Pierre and a new friend he’s made tonight, Nina. Apparently she’s infatuated with him, I’m going to take guess that it’s because of his French accent. American girls eat that up, they love foreign accents- let alone French one’s.

“Pierre,” interrupted Nina, “did you go to school in Paris or did you just live the night life?”

I tried my hardest to hide my face from her so she wouldn’t see me beginning to laugh. I knew what sort of response Pierre was going to say. He’s been asked this question so many times before.

“Oh, mon amie, such a question doesn’t particularly matter since I’m here now. Enjoy my company, please, and my laughs. My past is of no importance.” he said as he exhaled his cigarette smoke to the night sky. He looked down at me and winked before wrapping his arm around my shoulders.  He’s cleaver.

I couldn’t help myself from snickering when I noticed how unsettled Nina was from Pierre’s answer. Did she not understand a word he said? Obviously it didn’t matter since she quickly recovered by an overly hysterical laugh to whatever he said next. I knew I rolled my eyes at her, I felt my face cringe. It never bothered me when strange women would tag along with Pierre. Maybe “strange” isn’t the correct word to describe these ladies, but nothing else is coming to mind. I only wished that their knowledge and understanding were broadened so we wouldn’t have to deal with their unclear, giggly, girly comments or their ditzy moments. Perhaps I’m asking for too much, but then again, these girls are ridiculous. I wish they’d leave.

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About gabthechief

22 years old. Detroit native. Bachelor of Arts in Digital Media studies. Street Photographer. Designer. Dreamer. Young soul wandering.

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