fic: regret.

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How times have changed.

He remembers the late 70’s, the early 80’s where resistance could land you in prison at worst, gatherings of the kind that Rosa Luxembourg lobbies for these days were unheard of. Well, unless you lived in San Francisco, presumably, the Americans always did things a little bit differently.

Philippe watches the Pride Parade as much as anyone, meaning that there is hardly anywhere you might look if you want to avoid seeing it on display. The crowds pass right under his window at the Place Guillaume II, the music blaring, and the voices insistent.

Should anyone wish to put these people in prison, you might want to wish them ‘good luck’.

Yes, indeed, times have changed.

fic: priceless.

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Violette has taken the lead on her pregnancy, period, with Philippe for the most part trailing behind, biting his nails, because she insisted that they didn’t get the sex of the child confirmed, either would be a pleasant surprise, right, darling? All Philippe can think of as he nods is his father’s story of the Barrault lineage that almost ended with him, until he had his miracle son.

Don’t let it end with you, boy, he’d say as soon as Philippe was of an age when thinking of reproducing was no longer truly obscene. How old had he been, eleven. Possibly. Maybe twelve. Don’t let it end with you.

I won’t, Philippe had innocently answered, as if it would ever be his call to make. As if he could know.

So, when she finally, three days overdue, goes into labour, his wife, he hangs a white cloth out his car window and rushes her to the hospital. It is a mercilessly fast delivery, she screams too much to yell at him, and he stands by her side all throughout, thinking he might die before she does, really. If not die, then faint, definitely. Good God.

The nurse rubs the child until it starts wailing, the cloth obscuring what might be between its legs, until she comes over, the doctor tending to Violette, good, she’s okay, not dead, neither of them is, and places a wrinkled-looking, pink little being in his arms, saying, your daughter, sir, healthy and loud. He looks down at the tiny thing, noticing ten fingers and ten toes and definitely no male genitalia.

His heart sinks. His heart sinks, although his arms stay in the same position, supporting the head, the bottom, the rest of his new-born daughter. It took them a decade to make her.

They don’t have a decade to make a new attempt.

The girl starts crying and he is relieved to walk over to Violette, pass her on in the very way she will never pass on his name to anyone. Violette takes her, suckles her, entranced by the sight of the baby feeding. Philippe realises only then that she simply wanted a child, while he wanted so much more.

He excuses himself.

Rushes out.

Finds a secluded corner and cries.

fic: vehicles.

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On his 17th birthday, Philippe’s father gives him a Porsche 911, expecting that he will get his driver’s license before summer. Philippe walks past the garage every day, looking longingly at the car while he takes lessons from a local driving instructor, passes every one of the theoretical tests and counts down the days till his practical test. The car is tended to by their butler in the meantime, Philippe watching him waxing the bonnet and polishing up the chrome. It’s a fine car.

By one point, one, Philippe flunks his practical.

He passes his second attempt, of course, but his father is very disappointed and almost returns the car to the salesman, until Philippe’s mother begs him to consider the boy, he needs a means of transportation. So, Philippe receives the keys for the car and invites one of his friends, Charles, over for the initiation drive. They drive far into the forest outside City and make out for an hour before driving aimlessly around the city afterwards, just to make sure someone sees them and can place them accordingly.

It's a good car. It’s a young man’s dream, but no man is young forever.


~*~


It’s when they have decided to marry that Philippe realizes they should get a new car. A Porsche is fine for a single guy to cruise the streets in, but for a respectable couple? He exchanges the car at a used car dealer to a white BMW 320i that’s both big enough to grant them comfort and with enough horsepower to make travelling to France every other week easy enough.

Violette is very impressed with the car and asks him to take her on a drive through the countryside. They drive to Barrault Manor and make out in the old barn where his mother gave birth to him. They don’t go all the way, naturally, as they’ve agreed to wait until marriage, but they’re still blushing and a bit out of breath as he slips the key into the ignition, and they return to City under a starry, October night sky.

He thinks about the old Porsche while the silence settles around them, saying nothing about it. He thinks about the kind of life he led while he had it. BMW is a sturdy brand; this one will last him many years to come.


~*~


Once Marie-Claude has been born, they soon find themselves needing a roomier vehicle. Philippe sells the at this point rather old BMW and invests in a Nissan Pathfinder SE which is a butt-ugly car, truly, but very usable and adapted to their specific needs. It’ll be a comfortable ride to and from the manor, various family trips with friends to the countryside or cross-border vacations. It’s a family car.

Philippe has a family now.

Besides, he has his own ministry-issued car, more pleasing to the eye, that he uses for work. No one will have to actually see him drive the poor Nissan, abused and hated by his daughter, but necessary for the life they lead. The ministry-issue is a black Audi A4, tinted windows and very comfortable leather seats that makes working when his chauffeur takes the wheel an enjoyable affair. As long as he’s got such work perks to fall back on, the Nissan can stay, he won’t complain.

You don’t get lemonade without squeezing a lot of lemons, after all.


~*~


Along with his comfortable top-floor offices, the ministry-issued car goes when they lose the elections that year. To compensate, he buys a fashionable, expensive Mercedes-Benz E350 that he actually doesn’t use all that much, because Marie-Claude fabulises about the environment and about social injustice, so he starts taking the tram to appease her. To show a good example.

She, of course, is not so easily appeased. Especially not since Violette just drives the car instead.

Philippe has no opinion about the car, about any car, really, since he parted ways with the Porsche back in the day. They’re just means of transportation and being many things, Luxembourg is also very small, you can for the most part walk anywhere.

And anywhere beyond that? Planes do exist, no matter what Marie-Claude might have of objections to that notion.

christmas calendar.

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December 2	December 9	December 18	December 5	December 15
December 19	December 23	December 3	December 13	December 1
December 14	December 17	+	December 22	December 8
December 7	December 24	December 20	December 12	December 16
December 21	December 4	December 10	December 6	December 11