Date: Sun, 23 Jun 2013 11:12:03 +1200 From: bob charles Subject: Washed Up (Gay / Young friends) chapter 8 Washed Up. Disclaimer: Warning: this story contains sexual content, contact between young boys, and other themes that may offend. If the subject matter offends you, is not to your tastes, or if you are under legal age for your area, then find something else to read. In the following story all names and events are completely fictional. Although I may mention a specific location, place, or person any resemblance to said people, location, or places is completely unintentional. Chapter 8: "Josh, I want to say that I am deeply sorry for this. I didn't fill out the adoption papers for Pierre, because I knew that the adoption would have been successful. Pierre's uncle was only going to take custody of him if we didn't want to adopt him..." I lose it. I can't listen to another word from that lying mouth of hers. I am already crying heavily but I don't care. All rational thought has quickly disappeared. She has just admitted to doing the worst thing that she could possibly have done, and I totally resent her for it. I have never felt so betrayed before, so I have to get out and away from her before I did something stupid again. I jump out of the seat, sending it crashing to the floor in the process, and run outside. I have no real idea as to where I am going to run to, but the beach has always been a place of solitude for me, so I decide to go there. I run towards the beach as fast as my legs will take me. I am struggling to really see where I am going, due to the tears pouring from my eyes, but it doesn't slow me down. I run straight past the protection agents, who are caught a bit off guard as they haven't been expecting me. I get to the end of our cul-de-sac, and head down the road towards the beach. My mind is coherent enough to remember about the stairs. But it still isn't thinking clearly enough to tell me that running down them is a really bad idea. I make it three quarters of the way down before the worst thing happened. I trip, and end up falling head first down the remaining stairs. My head hits one of the stairs with a huge thud, and everything goes completely black. ************ I start to become aware of a bad thumping in my head, which is like my brain is hammering itself against the side of my skull trying to escape. Then comes the pain, it is all over my body. I have never been so sore over so much of my body before in my life. I start to open my eyes, but my eyelids are too heavy and seem to be glued shut making them refuse to open. I just lie there wallowing in pain, trying as hard as I can to open my eyes. The world is bright, blurry and out of focus when my eyes finally listen to my command. I am starting to feel frustrated, and try to struggle. I can't even do that, as my body seems to not want to cooperate. I can't remember a thing, which just adds to my frustration. All that I know is that I am pissed off with mum for some reason. Everything else is as blurry as my vision. Gradually my eyes start to focus, and the world surrounding me starts to appear. The pounding in my head is as bad as ever, which affects my ability to concentrate. The pain throughout my body is becoming intense, causing me to wince in the agony I am feeling. I suddenly start to feel a bit of relief from the pain, allowing me to focus and concentrate properly. I am in a dated sterile bland room, which I have a gut feeling is vaguely familiar. I can also hear an annoying beeping noise, which is adding again to my frustration and annoyance. One of my legs is getting held up in the air by some contraption, which just increases my confusion about everything. The thing that strikes me as odd is that I am not aware of anyone else being around. The pain seems to ease even more, and I am starting to feel a bit dopey. My frustrations are quickly forgotten about, as my body totally relaxes. I feel like I am floating. Have I died somehow, and gone to heaven? It sure feels like it. The world starts to become a blur again, and then goes pitch black. I gradually wake up again, but this time there is no pain. I am still feeling a little dopey, but at least I can focus and concentrate properly. I am starting to remember what has happened, but it is all still very vague. The last thing that I really remember is falling. The room starts to take shape again, and this time I recognise where I have seen it before. I am back in the stupid ass hospital. I look around and see that yet again I am hooked up to a heart monitor, which concerns me. Have I had another panic attack which caused my body to go into shock? No can't have, as my leg has never been strung up in the air like that before. I am really confused, and want someone to answer my questions. I look around the room, but I find my field of vision is limited due to not being able to move my body. I look down at my torso, and notice that I am heavily strapped to the bed. `Why the hell have I been restrained?' I think to myself. I have been half expecting to get ambushed by Callum, but it never happens. I'm not even sure that he is in the room. I am not sure that anyone is in the room. I am really starting to feel lonely, and longing to see someone, anyone at all just ease my loneliness. "Good afternoon Josh. You had quite a fall." A deep booming voice says. I recognise the voice, but can't put a face to it. I can't see who has said it either, which annoys me even more. "Who's there, and where's Callum?" I slur to the mystery person in a hoarse croaky voice. I suddenly see an apparition appear in front of me. It is the doctor who had cared for me the last time I was here. "Callum has been quite a handful after your accident, so for your health and recovery we thought it was best if he wasn't here. He is currently with your mum back home. Your sister is here. She is asleep on a chair over in the corner." The doctor replies. "What happened, as I don't remember a lot?" I ask the doctor. My mouth is really parched and affecting my ability to talk properly, but the doctor understands what I am saying. "Your mother must have said something bad to you, because you ran off in a really upset and unstable mood. You ran towards Fitzroy beach, and down the stairs. You tripped a ways from the bottom, and fell the equivalent of at least a one storey building down the stairs. As a result of your fall you suffered a pretty decent list of injuries. Do you really want to know what injuries you suffered?" The doctor says to me. I nod my head as best as possible to tell him to continue. "Well where do I start? As you can see your leg is in traction, which is also why we had to restrain you. We had to reset your femur after you somehow managed to snap it in half, and in order for it to heal properly we have to limit your movement, as any wrong move could upset the alignment of the bone. You also shattered a bone in your right wrist called the scaphoid bone. Somehow you didn't break a bone on your left arm, but you managed to break three ribs instead. You had a nasty contusion in your skull which we had to staple back up. You have also got a few lacerations and severe bruising over much of your body." The doctor tells me before he continues. "We have got you hooked up to morphine to help to ease the pain, but it is quite hard to monitor your pain properly. Normally we would give the patient a little button to push to give them a shot of the painkiller, but in your case we can't as you aren't able to operate the button. So it's up to us doctors to give you a hit of morphine when we feel that you are in too much pain. At least now while you're awake you will be able to let us know how much pain you're in." The doctor explains. I'm completely shocked with the list of injuries. I have a feeling that I will be in here for a long time. Damn, why the hell did I have to do such a stupid bloody thing? The worst part is that I still can't remember a lot. I know from what the doctor has just told me, that mum said something to upset me, but what? I can't for the life of me remember. I hope that my memory comes back, as I have a feeling I have totally forgotten about something important. "How long am I going to be like this for?" I ask the doctor, even though I know that I probably don't really want to know the answer. "With any luck you will only be in traction for a couple of weeks. The worst case scenario would be if you manage to upset the alignment of your femur, and then we would have to operate on you again, and you would put back your discharge date by at least another four weeks." The doctor replies. He has made sure to tell me the importance of staying still, and scares the shit out of me at the same time. Knowing that I will have to be on my best behaviour is a real concern to me, because I just don't know if I can do it. I wince as I suddenly feel a sharp stabbing sort of pain emanate from my leg. The doctor quickly comes over to the side of the bed, and picks up a little remote kind of thing. He gives the button on it a couple of pushes. The pain quickly disappears again, and I am getting that doped up feeling again. The world becomes a blur again before everything goes black. My mind is suddenly flooded with memories. Everything that I have been through comes rushing back. It is strange, and I am expecting to see the bright light at the end of the tunnel. It never comes, so I know I am still alive. I slowly open my eyes again, but the world is blurry. I'm feeling upset and betrayed all over again, and I struggle against my restraints. They hold firm so I don't move a muscle. I can feel wetness around my still blurry eyes. I know that I am crying because I now remember the important thing that I had forgotten, my boyfriend Pierre. Someone grasps my good hand, and holds it tightly. I can't do anything to wipe the tears from my eyes which is frustrating the hell out of me. I want to see who is there, but the salty tears are blurring the focus of my eyes. I have a gut feeling that it's not Callum, as the hand seems to be too big. I suddenly remember that the doctor had told me that Sarah has been in the room, so I know it has to be her. Well I hope it's her anyway, because I can't handle it being mum. Not now that I remember what she did to me. "Sarah is that you?" I ask hopefully. I cough a little straight afterwards due to my mouth still being bone dry. "Yes, are you in pain, because your crying?" Sarah replies, and she reaches out for the remote to give me a shot of morphine. "No. I'm remembering everything again, and I'm still upset at what mum did, and I'm also remembering about Pierre again. How is Callum?" I say to Sarah. She grips my hand a little tighter, and drops the remote after I ask about my little brother. "He's not too good. He's blaming himself a bit for what happened. He keeps mumbling about him being too slow, as he seems to believe that if he was faster, then it would have been him who fell down the stairs and not you." Sarah replies. It leaves me feeling sad but confused. I mean why would Callum think such a thing? Sarah picks up on my confusion so explains further. "After mum had told you what she had done, you comprehended the implications a couple of seconds quicker than Callum. Hence you made it out the door first. Callum was thinking along the same lines as you, but he couldn't run as fast. He couldn't catch you, and you just got further, and further ahead of him. He made it to the top of the stairs just as you tripped. He believes that if he had clicked first then he would have beat you to the stairs, and that it would have been him who fell." I don't know what to think. Callum feels guilty because I made it to the stairs first. I have really messed him up, as I can't think of a rational reason for him blaming himself. Then it dawns on me. Callum wanted to be first to the stairs so that it was him who got hurt, as he didn't want to see me get hurt again. But I did, so he feels like he has failed to protect me from myself. I feel really sad and gutted knowing that he is thinking this way, as it really shows me how much hurt and pain I have caused my little brother. "Is he going to come and see me today?" I ask my sister in a weak hoarse voice. "I don't know. It depends on whether he calms down enough, if he does mum will bring him around later." Sarah replies. I feel a bit dejected at the thought of not seeing my little brother today, whatever day it is now. But what upsets me most is the thought of seeing that lying bitch of a mother again. "I don't want to see mum again, make sure she doesn't fucking well come in. I only want to see my brother not that lying fucking bitch." I mumble in tears again. "Look mum feels so bad for what she did to you and Callum that she has offered to pay for our trip over to France." Sarah says to me. It sounds like she really means and believes what she is saying, but I am still very sceptical. "Why should I fucking well believe her? She has lied to me too fucking much for me to believe another fucking word that she says." I mumble in reply. I really don't believe that mum will keep her word. I mean why the hell would she now after lying about so much else. Sarah goes back to the chair where she has left her handbag, and pulls something out from it. Then she brings it over and shows me them. "What is it? I can't see past the tears." I tell her honestly. She then tries to wipe the tears from my eyes, which only sort of works, but at least I have enough focused vision to work out what she is holding. They look to be airplane tickets, but I can't quite read what is on them. I blink hard a couple of times, trying to clear the remaining salty water from my eyes. It works and I can see properly. My mouth drops wide open, and I produce a weak smile. It feels like a massive smile to me, but due to the physical state I am in, it isn't really that big. They are indeed airplane tickets, to Paris from Auckland. They are for a month and a halves time, to give me time to recuperate properly. We can't really go on a long international flight with me still in a cast, so mum tries to book them for when she thinks I will be fit and healthy. I'm over the moon to know it's finally going to happen, and that mum actually kept her word for once. It is still a shame that I am going to have to wait so long but it is better than never happening at all. It also gives me something to focus and give my full attention to, because now I actually have a reason to get better as quickly as possible, and I intend to try and do that too. It takes another two days before Callum calms down enough that mum feels it is safe enough to bring him in to see me. Mum makes sure that she has a tight hold on Callum to ensure he doesn't rush up to me to hug me. She needn't have bothered, as Callum pretty much snubs me after doing a quick check to see if I am alright. It takes a couple of days before I get through to him enough that he will talk to me again. It takes even longer before he will come anywhere near me, but I get through to him, and eventually he forgives me again. Boyed on by the knowledge that I am going to see Pierre again, my body seems to heal a bit quicker than usual. I am only in traction for a week and a half, before the doctors decide that my femur has set properly. So they put me in a cast. It is the most uncomfortable cast I have ever been in, as it stretches from just under the knee on my broken leg to just under my innie bellybutton, and then back down my other leg about half way down the femur. It means that I struggle to walk, especially seeing as there is a broom handle sort of thing in the cast to space out my two legs. The cast is pretty much whole, except for a slot they cut into the cast where my little dickie and butt is. They can't cover that up or I will pee and crap inside the cast, and then they will have to replace it, not to mention the mess I would be in. I am a week ahead of myself in terms of when the school holidays began, and it is the week after I am out of traction when I get my visitors. They are a couple of boys' whom I have seen on TV after they got caught out by the second big cyclone to bypass the country, and it almost killed one of them. That isn't the reason that I wanted to become friends with them. The reason is that I knew they would understand the relationship which I have with Pierre. Mum knows that too, and that is why she doesn't hang around after showing them to my room. It turns out that mum has gone off and talk with the boys' parents to try to get some sort of understanding as to how they cope with things. I don't think her conversation really works because both of the parents were happy about it right from the get go, which mum struggles to believe. The older of the two boys' stands at 4'11" tall, and must weigh about 44kg. His hair is blonde, and cut in a similar style to mine. Well cut isn't the right word, as he has just let it grow, but the biggest difference is his hair is straight while mine is wavy. He has gorgeous deep blue eyes, a fattish medium sized nose, and medium thick pink lips. I can just see a smattering of lightly coloured freckles above his nose. He is of average build and has a decent sort of tan, not quite as dark as the other boy's, but dark enough. I struggle to believe that he is 14, two years older than me, because he doesn't look it. The other boy is 4'8" tall and weighs around 38kg. His face is really cute, with sparkling blue eyes, a small button nose, and thin red lips. To top things off is a cute little dimple in his chin. His hair is messy medium length brown hair, which just adds to his cuteness, but also reminds me of Callum with how messy it is. He is of a slim build but has a really nice dark tan. He is younger than me, even though we are about the same height, but he is only 11. The same age as the love of my life, Pierre. As they step through the doorway, I can see the older boy having to restrain his young friend who wants to race over to me and give me a hug. I am feeling a lot better, but my body is still very tender. The good thing is that I can now move around as my leg isn't in traction, but the cast still heavily limits my movement. The older boy must have sensed how tender I am still, and that is why he stops his young friend from trying to embrace me. "Hi Dan and Caleb, I'm so glad to finally meet you in person." I say to the two boys'. My voice has improved a lot, but due to still being on morphine I am still a little groggy. The boys' gave me a weak smile, as this is not what they expected when they told me that they were coming to visit. "Hi Josh. Couldn't you have met us at your house, as you should know how much we hate hospitals." Caleb replies jokingly. Dan gives him a little nudge to tell him that the comment isn't entirely appropriate. "Aw, I thought you loved the hospital, and that's why you spent so much time in one." I quip back, resulting in them both laughing at me. It does make me feel a bit happier seeing them laugh, as I don't want to put a dampener on their mood by being in hospital. "Yeah well at times it feels like we should be part of a loyalty club with how regular our visits are." Caleb jokes, which causes me to laugh. It is the first I have laughed in a long time and it feels surprisingly good, but due to my injuries it is also a little sore, causing a little discomfort around my chest. It is really good having them visit, but I still felt a bit jealous. They behave themselves whilst they are with me, but I can still see the love they feel for each other. After they leave I know that they won't be behaving themselves as well, which adds to my jealousy. I don't know whether they sleep together like Pierre and I have done, but I presumed they do. I don't want to ask, just like I don't ask them what else they do in the privacy of their rooms. It doesn't seem right, plus my whole knowledge of love revolves around kissing and hugging. I don't have a clue as to whether there is anything else. The best thing with their visit is one the second day they are here, when Caleb gives me his cell phone to use to ring Pierre with. Dan and Caleb leave the room while I'm talking to my French lover, to allow me some privacy. It really is so good hearing his sexy voice again, but it makes me long for him more. I talk to him for ages, in fact the only reason we stop talking is because the phones battery dies and we get disconnected. I am really happy after talking with Pierre again, but now even more disappointed and lonely as I just want to be with him. The week goes far too quickly, and even though they spend most of each day they are here, with me, it still isn't enough. I am feeling the happiest I have for a while, although not as happy as when Pierre was around, but I know I will be seeing him again and soon. We share stories, well most of our stories anyway, as there are obvious bits which are left out. In my case because I don't want to trigger a reaction, but I give them hints as to what has happened, and I think they get it. Before I know it they are gone again, and I am left alone with my family. I feel really isolated, as Callum is still a bit funny, and I am not feeling the usual love I get from him. It takes until the end of my third conscious week in hospital for Callum to come right, but now he won't let me go. He is pretty much locked onto me all the time. I am just glad that my body has come pretty much right so I am not tender anymore, otherwise it could have been uncomfortable having Callum all over me all the time. When I manage to break away from Callum I use the chance to try and move around, and get used to the cast on my legs. It is extremely difficult to move anywhere with that cast, but I find a way to manage it. I find that if I swing my hips from side to side I can actually move forward, but it takes a lot of effort and strength so I can never go too far. With lots of practice and a hell of a lot of persistence I am eventually able to hobble as far as the toilets, which are at the end of the hall. I am so glad at that accomplishment because it enables me to be able to use the facilities, and get the stupid catheter removed. It is the main problem I strike every time I want to go for a walk. I have to unhook the urine bag and strap it to me so that I can go somewhere. It is never a pleasant prospect walking around with a bag full of your piss, especially since it is still hooked up to the catheter lodged up my dick. At least the hospital gown covers everything, with the exception of the urine bag. Now that I am able to walk myself to the toilets without too much trouble, the doctors take out the catheter. It is unpleasant while they do it, but I feel instant relief once it is gone. I now have to retrain myself to use the toilet, but as it hasn't been too long since my last visit here, I am pretty confident to remember how to pee pretty quickly. The doctors are happy with my progress and thinking about discharging me. I am still going to be in a cast for at least another two weeks, but I can deal with that. The gash in my skull has healed sufficiently that the doctors are no longer concerned about a possible infection. I have to have one last x-ray on my wrist before I am allowed to go, and it is really good news. The break in my scaphoid bone has fully mended, so the doctors feel it safe to remove the cast on my arm. Once the cast has been removed I am free to go, but will have to be back in a couple of weeks for an x-ray on my femur. Once I am free from the confines of the hospital, I quickly find out how much of a pain in the arse the cast is going to be. I can't sit down due to the way the cast is. All I can do is stand up or lie down, nothing else. So the first big challenge we face is getting me in the car with Callum and Sarah. In the end I have to crawl into the backseat and lie, taking up the entire seat. Callum has to sit in Sarah's lap in the front seat for the trip home, due to there being no room for him in the back. It is totally illegal, but we have no other option. Thankfully we don't get pulled up by a cop on the way home. Once we are back home we strike the next problem, as I can't get myself out of the car. Sarah and mum have to drag me out head first, so they can get hold of my arms. Once I am far enough out Callum takes Sarah's place, so that she can catch my feet. Somehow they manage to get me out without me falling at any stage. The next two weeks go agonizingly slow. I stay at home the entire time, due to not really being able to go anywhere without a lot of difficulty. Callum and Sarah are forced to go back to school, meaning I am pretty much alone most of the day. Mum has her errands to run, so a lot of the time she isn't home either. I am really limited into what I can do, as it is very difficult for me to stand up from a lying position without assistance. So when no one is home I have to make sure that I am where I want to be, until someone comes back. After what seems like an eternity I am bundled back into the car, and we head back to the hospital. Mum, Sarah and Callum have the same problem of getting me back out of the car, as they did the first time round. But again they do it successfully without causing me or the cast any damage. I hobble through to the radiology clinic, and we wait for my turn for an x-ray. I still struggle to stand for long lengths of time, so the wait is killing me. Finally my turn comes about, and I have my x-ray done. We then have to head through the hospital to my doctor's office and await the x-ray results. They came back all good, so the doctor with his little cutting saw removes my cast. It is a little embarrassing as I am naked from the waist down, and my sister is in the room as the cast gets removed, but she doesn't pass a comment. I am glad at that because I know how small my dick is, and I don't want Sarah to give me grief about it, yes I am still wary of my sister. I find out later that day that she has already seen it before, when she helped mum clean me up after the accident in the car. Needless to say I am mortified knowing that. Sarah calms my humiliation by just saying that I have nothing to worry about, as she won't tell anyone. She makes me blush and feel a little disgusted when she says that she thinks it looks cute. I mean that is not the sort of thing that a sister should say to her brother, it's just wrong. I am relieved and in ecstasy once the cast is removed, as I can finally scratch all those itches that have been driving me crazy over the last few weeks. My legs which have been under the cast look ghastly, they are a real pale white colour, and seem to be a lot skinnier not to mention the build-up of grime and sweat on them. The doctor tells me to take things easy for a while, as my legs will need time to get their strength back. He informs me that the muscle and fat in my legs should return to normal pretty quickly as long as I exercise, and eat properly. We are then free to go again, but the doctor tells me that he really doesn't want to see me again. I smile at him, and poke out my tongue. `Smart ass.' I think to myself. The restricting confines of my briefs actually feel comforting after having not worn them for so long. In fact being properly changed on my lower half feels strange. Walking is actually disconcerting now, as I have to rely entirely on the strength in my legs. It doesn't take too long before I find out how weak they are, as they buckle from underneath me. I end up in a heap, and mum and Sarah have to help me up. They support my weight around their shoulders as we make our way out of the hospital and back to the car. Sitting down properly for the first time in over a month feels great, and so relaxing. I never want to get out of the car, well at least not till we get to the airport. Unfortunately that isn't feasible, and I have to stand up again once we have made it back home. I physically can't stand as I have no strength in my legs due them being immobile and in a cast for so long. Sarah and mum again have to help me stand, and carry me inside. I am already hoping that this isn't going to be a long term thing, as I like to have my independence. The two weeks before our flight are spent pretty much in rehabilitation mode. Slowly but surely the strength in my legs return, and I am able to do things independently again. It is rather embarrassing for the first week, as I have to be helped to do even the simplest of things. Going to the toilet is a nightmare, as unless Callum is home I have to rely on mum or Sarah to help me. I know they have seen me naked before, but for some reason going to the toilet is different. I feel really uncomfortable having them watch me as I do my business. I am so glad when I have gathered enough strength back to be able to go on my own again. The day that I have spent so long waiting for arrives, with agonizing slowness, but it arrives. The night before we are due to leave I don't sleep a wink, due to be too excited and anxious. My night terrors never have a chance to develop, due to my mind concentrating so much on other things. Callum is also wide awake all night, and tossing and turning beside me. He is trying to get some sleep but his excitement gets the better of him. Mum comes in really early in the morning to wake us up, but she needn't have bothered as we are both still wide awake. We get up and change into the clothes we have left out the night before, after we have packed our bags. Then we leave my room and go through to the lounge. Mum is ready and waiting, but Sarah is still getting up and changed. Callum and I yell to her to hurry up, as we are getting impatient and worried about missing our flight. She finally emerges and we head out to the already loaded car. It is still dark as we wind our way through the suburban streets out of the city towards the airport. We get there on time, and check in. Once we have cleared security we have the first of our waits, and it is the waiting around which is driving me nuts. We only have a half an hour wait, but every second that passes, seems like an hour. I have only talk with Pierre twice since he left, and the second one was only the other day to tell him that we are coming to see him. The conversation was far too short due to it being an international call, so it will cost a fortune. The best part of the call is that mum actually talked to Pierre's uncle to see whether he is still willing to adopt him to us. Mum never gives us his answer which is really frustrating, but I am just happy to finally seeing him again. The adoption of Pierre is an issue which I will bring up later. Finally we get the call to board. Callum and I jump out of our seats and pretty much run to the front of the queue. We have to saunter back a little sheepishly, as mum still has our boarding passes. So we have to wait in queue with her and Sarah. We make our way towards the front of the queue at a snail's pace, and this time we are allowed to board. The plane is a small Cessna, due to New Plymouth only being a smaller centre so there aren't many people travelling from here. It can carry maybe forty people, but when you are anxiously waiting to board that is forty people too many. The seats are cramped, but thankfully it is only a forty five minute flight to Auckland. It seems like as soon as the plane has reached its cruising altitude the plane is landing again. The sun is only just rising above the horizon as we land in Auckland. I know that we have left really early in the morning. The flight must have left around five. Compared to New Plymouth airport, Auckland is huge. We land at the domestic terminal, and have to get out via a moveable staircase. I didn't even realise that those things still exist in major airports anyway, as I thought that you always boarded by the aerobridge these days. We disembark the plane and have to walk over the tarmac to the entrance into the domestic terminal. We pretty much go in one door and out another. Out the front of the domestic terminal we head over to the bus stop, and waited for the free airport shuttle. The shuttle arrives and we get on, and then we are taken over to the international terminal. The international side of the airport is huge compared to the domestic terminal. We find the check in desk for our carrier, and check in our bags as well as get our boarding passes. I am really surprised when I look at the boarding pass properly to see that they are first class tickets. Mum tells us that due to the length of the flight she thought we should travel in comfort. We have about an hour and a half before our flight, but we still have to clear security and customs. We decide that we might as well get that out of the way, and spend the rest of our time looking around the duty free stores. It takes a lot longer to clear all the official checks for an international flight than it had to fly domestically. By the end of it I am getting really antsy and just wanting to get through it all. Once cleared, we enter a shopping mall looking complex, and it looks a lot bigger than I thought it would. I have heard that Auckland has a really good duty free area, but this is not what I expected. Mum tells us all to go to the bookshop and find some books as it is going to be a really long flight and she doesn't want us getting bored. She is going to go exchange currencies, and then come back and pay for whatever books we want. We quickly head over to the bookstore, and the first book that I look for is a travel guide for France. I haven't been back at school since the accident so I haven't had an opportunity to research much about France, and I assume that Sarah hasn't thought of it either. Callum on the other hand has probably done some research, but I don't think that he really knows much about what he is looking for. I find a Lonely Planet guide book and grab it, and then I go to the magazine rack and pick out a couple of surf mags. Callum has got himself a couple of books which he has always wanted to read, and Sarah has also grabbed a travel guide until she sees that I already have one. Then she puts it back, and picks out a huge looking novel for herself. Either our excitement levels are through the roof and we are running around like headless chickens, or time is going so slow that it's almost at a standstill, because it doesn't take as long as we think to get our books. In fact we probably spend more time waiting for mum to exchange currencies than we did getting what we want. Mum finally turns up and rabbits on about how good the exchange rates are at the moment, which is good news for us as well because it means we have more spending money to take with us. She then takes the books off us and goes to the counter to pay. Mum sort of gives us all a look as if to say is that all you are getting, but we don't pay much attention to her. I mean how long can this flight possibly be? We are only ten hours ahead of France so it's not that bad. We spend a little more time wandering around the other duty free stores. None of them are of much interest to me. In fact it seems like they are all catered for adults who drink alcohol and smoke cigarettes. There is the occasional store dedicated to selling children's stuff, but they are all aimed for younger kids who still play with toys. I give up after a while and convince everyone that it must be time to head to the boarding gate. I am wrong as we still have ages to wait, but I am impatient and nervous. I really don't want to run the risk of missing the flight, so I am happier being miles too early to the boarding gate than having to rush at the last minute. We take a seat, and try to relax. Sarah and mum seem to find it easy to relax, but Callum and I are far too anxious and excited. We just can't sit still, so we get up and wander aimlessly around the little lounge we are in. I think our nervous wandering is starting to get on some of the other passengers nerves, so we decide that we had better sit down again. After what seems like forever, an announcement comes over the loud speaker telling us that we are able to board the plane now. Callum and I don't make the same mistake this time, as we make sure that mum gives us our boarding passes before racing off to try to get to the front of the queue. We board the plane in short time and make our way through to first class. Talk about luxury. We have enough leg room that I think I can lie down between the seats comfortably. Well maybe not, but compared to the last plane we had been on, this one has a huge amount of space between seats. All the seats come with a little TV as well, which I am glad about as reading for the whole trip doesn't excite me one bit. We take our seat and buckle up before making ourselves comfortable. As the plane takes off I feel a huge weight get lifted off my shoulders. It isn't just from the knowledge that I am finally going to see Pierre again, but more because for the first time in a while I feel safe. All the built up tension from dad having escaped from jail is gone. Dad can't get to me now, and I feel instant relief knowing that. I turn on the TV and start to sort through all the different features in the system until I find something that interests me. I start watching, as I try to temporarily forget that I still have ages to wait before I get to see Pierre again. After ten hours in the air, and numerous trips to the toilet just so I can walk around, I am starting to really get anxious. I think that we should be close to landing by now. I have no idea how long the flight is supposed to take, but ten hours seems like heaps of time. It is about another hour before the pilot announces to prepare for landing. `At last.' I think to myself, but I am completely dismayed and confused when the pilot announces that we are landing in Hong Kong. I am wondering as to whether we have caught the wrong flight and start to panic. Mum calms me down by telling me that we are on the right flight. It is just that there are no direct flights through to Paris, so we are going to have to have a stopover somewhere. A stopover I think to myself, why would we have a stopover now as we have been on the plane for well over ten hours. I have no idea why but I think that since we are ten hours ahead of France, then it should only take that long to get there. A child's logic I suppose. The worst part is it means that I am going to have to sit on a plane for a whole lot longer. We touch down in Hong Kong, and disembark the plane. As we are going to have to get on a different plane to the one we have just been on, we are going to have to find the right boarding lounge. Thankfully due to be transfer passengers we don't have to go through customs or immigration, but of course we are stuck on this side of the airport. We go through the transfers section to get from arrivals back to the correct departures lounge. It is a huge and busy airport. Much bigger and busier than Auckland airport is. It takes forever to get anywhere. We must have taken a good half an hour to find where we have to go, but to my dismay we still have a good two and a half hours wait before we are due to fly out again. Callum is looking drained, almost like a walking zombie. I am feeling the same way, as it has already been a long day and we still have much more to go. We sit in on some seats in the lounge as we wait for our next flight to board. It's quite strange to think how long we had been sitting for already, and yet after a short walk all I want to do was sit down again. I am really feeling fatigued, but still far too excited to be able to sleep. Callum is the same. The excitement is still clearly visible in his glazed over eyes. I do my best not to look at the clock while we are waiting, but I can't help it, and each time I look it doesn't seem to have moved in the slightest. The minutes tick by agonizingly slow, as my eyes become more fixated watching the clock than anything else. I can't help it as I'm just so eager to get back on the plane. My eyes may be on the clock, but my mind is firmly on my sexy French boyfriend whom I'm bursting at the seams to embrace again. I long to feel his body against me, and experience that awesome feeling kiss all over again. It has been so long that I am starting to forget just how wonderful it all feels. My musings are suddenly interrupted when a message comes over the loud speaker. I can't understand a word of what is being said as it is in a foreign language. I understand one word from whole the message which is Paris. I am hoping it means what I think it does. My thoughts are confirmed when the message is repeated in English. We are boarding finally. This time Callum and I are still too drowsy to react quickly enough and a long queue has already formed by the time we have got out of our seats. I'm just too tired to really care, because I'm just glad to finally be boarding for the final leg of the flight. The queue is slow to move, but we eventually make it on board the plane and take our comfortable seats in first class. The new plane is an Airbus A380, and looks identical to the first one. First class is just as impressive, but an exact replica of the plane we have just got off. The only real difference between the two planes is the on-flight entertainment selection. The plane takes off for the last time before we reach Paris, and we settle in for the long flight. I really hope that this part is shorter than the last leg, but my gut is telling me otherwise. Again Callum and I don't get any sleep as we're still running on the excitement of seeing Pierre again. I only hope that we don't crash the moment we get to his place. Callum's eyes look like they are hanging out of their sockets because of how tired he is. I feel as bad as he looks. Somehow mum and Sarah manage to get some sleep during the long flight, but I suppose they aren't as excited as we are. After what seems like an eternity, the pilot announces to prepare for landing. It has been a good twelve and a half hours since we left Hong Kong. I instantly become wide awake again, as my excitement floods my body like a shot of adrenalin. Callum looks a lot more awake now too, as his eyes have lost that glazed over look to them. I almost jump out of my seat with joy as I feel the tires hit the tarmac. My mind is buzzing as I know that I haven't got too far to go before I can see my boyfriend again. I get quickly bought back to reality about how close we are to seeing Pierre again, as we disembark and have to go through all the customs and immigration crap you have to do when entering a new country. It is so boring, and takes forever to clear everything before we are allowed to enter the country. But we get through without too much hassle. Mum has a little explaining to do to the immigration agents, as she has put something on her visa that sparks their interest. We then wade our way through the crowds of people to the baggage claim area to collect our bags. I'm starting to feel all giddy and buoyant knowing that we are finally in France. From having read the travel guide which I brought in Auckland, I know it is only a three hour train ride to Pierre's town. We are so close that I'm sure I can almost feel his presence. But first we need to get into Paris from Charles De Gaulle airport, and find the Gare de Lyon. Mum bursts my bubble by telling me that we will be spending the night in Paris, and heading to Vichy in the morning. I am about to put up a fight but realise that mum is right. It has been a really long day given that we have just spent twenty four and a half hours on a plane. The problem is that I think I know that I am not going to be able to sleep, so to me staying the night seems pointless. I'm pretty sure Callum won't be able to sleep either, but from the looks of him he really should sleep. He looks completely knackered. I take a quick glance at a clock as we make our way through the busy airport. It is around twelve thirty at night. I get a huge surprise seeing that as I hadn't expected it to be so late, but we have just travelled halfway around the world, so I don't really know what to expect anymore. We fight our way back through the crowds of people, and head towards the exit. Once outside mum leads us towards a taxi, and we load our bags into the boot. We could have used the train or a bus, but mum isn't exactly sure where we are going due to us not really having a decent map of Pairs, so a taxi is the best option. We all pile into the sedan, and belt in. Mum gives the driver the name of the hotel which she has booked us into, and the driver takes off. It is spectacular driving through the streets of such a magnificent city. It really feels like I have gone back in time, as everything looks old. The buildings are so much older and grander than anything we have back in New Zealand, and it really makes me appreciate how young our country is. I really do love what I am seeing in Paris, but still just want to leave the city and find Pierre. It is strange to think that I'm in one of the world's most iconic cities, but I still just want to get out. Maybe once we have Pierre, and if I can convince mum to adopt him, then we can have a good look around the magnificent city. The Eiffel Tower comes into view, towering over the city. It looks really impressive all lit up like a Christmas tree, under the dark night sky. The city is brightly lit making it almost look like daytime. Even though it's well after midnight there are still heaps of people roaming around the streets of the iconic city. I'm starting to wonder as to whether this city ever sleeps. The taxi pulls onto the Champs Elysees, and then parks up in front of a cosy little hotel. I can see the Arc de Triomphe glowing away in the distance which helps to add to my fascination to the city. Mum pays the fare, and we all get out of the taxi and unload the boot. We go up the steps to the front door of the hotel and walk in. Thankfully for mum the lady at the reception counter speaks English, as none of us know enough French to be of any use. I have learned a little from my time with Pierre, but it is not really enough to start a conversation. We check in, and the kind old lady from the reception counter shows us to our rooms. It is a three storey building and unsurprisingly our rooms are on the third floor. We bundle ourselves and our bags up the narrow staircase, and onto the landing. The receptionist opens up our doors for us and we all go into our assigned rooms. Callum and I are sharing a room, while Sarah and mum have a room to themselves. The room is pretty small but elegantly dressed. It is clean, but far from sterile. The room has a lot of character, the sort which can only be found in older buildings. There are two single beds set up on opposite sides of the room, with a dresser against the wall beside the door. On the dresser is a small TV set, which only has French channels so is really no use to us. We open up our bags and rummage through them until we find some nightwear, and get changed. We figure that we had better put on some pyjamas just encase we actually manage to get some sleep. Once I am changed I lie down on one of the single beds with my travel guide and start to read. I am briefly interrupted as Callum climbs into bed beside me, so I have to scoot across a little to give him enough room. Callum really is bushed as he falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. I'm not really surprised as it has been an extremely long day, and this bed is so comfortable. It's almost like lying on a cloud. I blink, and the sun is pouring in the widow. I can't believe it as it means that I have actually slept. I haven't even been disturbed by my night terrors for the first time in ages. It is probably through lack of sleep, and the fact that I'm now on the other side of the world so I feel safe from dad, the reasons for not having my usual terrors. Or maybe it could be that I'm so close to Pierre now that he is already having an influence on me. Either way, I am feeling refreshed. I pick up my book which I have dropped on my chest, close it and put it down beside me on the bed. Callum is still asleep beside me, with an arm draped over my chest, and one of his legs also wrapped around me. His breathing is shallow but rhythmic, as he is probably having the best sleep that he has had for a while. I wrap my arm around him and gave him a little squeeze. He doesn't even flinch. He is still in too deeper sleep. I'm fully awake now, and considering waking him up, as I really want to get out of the city and find Pierre. I jump a little as there is suddenly a loud knock at the door. I untangle myself from my little brother, and get out of bed. I stumble across to the door, as my legs are still to wake up, and open the door. "Morning Josh. Did you have a good sleep? Mum wants to know whether you want to spend the day exploring Paris, or whether you want to go to Vichy today?" Sarah says, as I open the door. Sarah then comes into the room before I answer. "Yeah I got some sleep. It was really good the best I've had in ages. Tell mum I want to go today." I reply. Sarah has a quick look around the room, and ends up shaking her head seeing that only one bed has been used. "OK, but mum says that we might run out of time and not get another chance... Anyway why did you only use one bed?" Sarah says. She thinks she knows the answer but wants to ask anyway. "It's OK, I still want to go today. I hope we get a chance to explore Paris, but finding Pierre is more important to me right now... oh yeah Callum decided to get into bed with me again." I reply. "Surprise, surprise. You are going to have to get him back in the habit of sleeping in his own bed again. Anyway we thought you would say that, so you better wake sleeping beauty as mum wants to leave in half an hour." Sarah tells me. I give her a smile, before she turns and leaves the room. I close the door behind her and set about gently waking my brother. I walk over to the side of the bed and give my sleeping little brother and gentle shake. He groans and rolls over more, so I shake him a little harder. I just keep gently shaking him until he starts to wake. He stretches out and lets out a loud yawn as he wakes. His eyelids start to flutter, but he still hasn't opened them yet. Gradually his eyes crack open, but shut again quickly as the room is too bright and his eyes haven't adjusted. As his eyes get used to the light he opens them fully, and stretches again. "Good morning sleepy head. You need to get up and dressed as we are leaving soon." I inform Callum. He looks at me blankly for a second, as his mind isn't in gear yet. When he comprehends what I have just said to him, he nods his understanding. He lets out a little moan as he gets up and out of bed. It is still hard work. Now that Callum is successfully woken, I go over to my bag to get a change of clothes. I am not entirely sure what to wear. My normal casual wear doesn't seem to be a good idea, but I don't think it is the right situation to wear anything too formal either. I opt for something in-between. I strip off before pulling on some blue briefs followed by some semi tight fitting black denim jeans. Not being too sure about what the weather is usually like in late April in France, I opt for a blue collared polo shirt with a grey woollen jersey over top. I figure that if I get too hot I can always take the jersey off, but at least it looks tidy. Callum has stripped off his clothes and is drowsily standing there trying to think of what to do next. He has his normal morning wood sticking out from his body, but he hasn't noticed it yet. As his mind slowly starts to work he rifles through his bag in search of some clothes. He pulls out some red briefs which have a picture of Batman on the crotch and pulls them on hiding away his piss boner. Well for the moment anyway. Then he pulls on some tan colour cargo shorts, and a black collar shirt, which have grey colour flames around the bottom portion of it. I am not sure if he is going to be warm enough, but Callum isn't too fussed. He starts to repack his bag, after pulling out a fresh pair of socks, and zips it up. He sits on the bed as he pulls on his white ankle socks, and then puts his feet into his black Globes. I figure that I too should wear shoes and socks, so searched through my bag for some. Then I pull one some white calf length socks, with two blue stripes around the top, and shove my feet into my black Reefs. Then I gather up my things and shove them into my bag, and wrestle with it to get it closed again, before being able to zip it shut. By the time I have got my bag all closed up, Callum's brain finally starts to work properly. He is holding his crotch with his right hand, and bouncing from foot to foot. He is getting desperate to go to the toilet. I am now starting to feel the same urges, as through having had no night terror last night, I haven't wet the bed. "I need to go wee wee. Do you know where the toilet is?" Callum asks with an urgent tone in his voice. He is now scrunching his face up through the desperation he is feeling. His hopping between feet is getting more frantic as well. "No, it must be in the hall, as there is no other doors in here." I say to my brother and head towards the door. I open it and Callum pretty much barges past. He looks left then right, and takes off towards the right. He has seen a sign on a door indicating the toilets. I follow as quickly as I can, but Callum has already crashed through the door into the toilets by the time I get out into the hall. It looks like there is only the one toilet so I think I will try the door. I turn the knob and open it. My mouth drops wide open to find Callum standing there, pants on the ground, peeing. I would have thought that since there is only the one toilet he would have locked the door. I quickly wedge myself into the small room and close the door behind me, making sure to lock it in the process. I don't want anyone else to just barge in. Callum is standing there trying to direct the thin stream of clear piss into the bowl. His piss boner was making it a little difficult but he still manages not to miss. I unzip the fly in my jeans, and pull down the front of my undies while fishing out my dick. I almost jump as I touch it, because it is as hard as Callum's looks. I wasn't prepared for that. Remembering what Pierre taught me, I push down on my stiffie trying to aim it at the bowl and push out my butt to make it easier and less painful. Then I let rip releasing a huge sigh of relief, as the river of slightly yellowish piss goes exactly where it was supposed to go. Callum's pee is little more than a dribble now, and is little dickie is pretty much deflated. My river is still going strong, but my dick doesn't feel as hard anymore making it easier to control. Callum shakes out the last few droplets before pulling up his pants and undies, and then washing his hands in the tiny hand basin which is in the room. My stream has eased back to a constant dribble by this stage. Callum has now finished washing his hands and is waiting on me a little impatiently. Thankfully the last of my piss has dribbled out, and I shake my dick off. I tuck it away safely in the restricting confines of my undies, and zip up. I wash my hands quickly, and then unlock the door and we head back out into the hall. Mum and Sarah are waiting for us out in the hallway. They catch us by surprise, but mum is equally surprised to see us coming out of the toilet together. Well she is surprised to see me coming out of the toilet this early in the morning, as usually I don't have to go pee till the afternoon. But she presumes that my body clock will be up the shit given the time difference, so doesn't say anything about it. They have got our bags out of our room for us and locked up. So all we have to do was grab our bags from them and go. We lumber back downstairs carrying our bags. It is harder carrying them down than it was having carried them upstairs in the first place. Gravity is the major obstacle as it is trying to upset my balance and pull me downstairs, but I struggle against it and get down safely. I am panting and sweating by the time I make it to the bottom, but everyone else is the same. Mum hands the keys back, and the receptionist gives her the security money back, and we are on our way. We are immediately swallowed up by a huge swarm of people as we get outside and back onto the sidewalk of the Champs Elysees. It is a lot busier than it was when we arrived, but what did I really expect? There is a yellowish tinge in the air from all the pollution being generated by the long stream of cars going along the boulevard. I can't see the Arc de Triomphe at the other end of the road now due to the haze. I really am not prepared for this as I didn't see how anywhere could be busier than Auckland. But I suppose when you come from a small country you don't know what it's like in the bigger more famous ones. We manage to successfully wade our way across the sidewalk, and are standing on the edge closest the road. Mum flags down a taxi, but it is occupied, so we will have to wait for an empty one. Mum tries to flag down any taxi that is on our side of the road. Eventually one stops, and we load our gear into the boot, and climb in. Mum tells the driver that we want to go to the Gare de Lyon, which she manages to pronounce pretty well. Thankfully the driver understands English, well at least the location mum has said. He merges into the traffic, and we head through the streets of Paris again, on our way to find Pierre. We crawl our way along the Champs Elysees towards the right bank of the Seine River. I'm staring out the window in disbelief at the stunning old architecture that we pass. I'm really starting to hope that we do get a chance to explore Paris properly, but for the moment we have more important issues to tend to. We passed Place de la Concorde, a 3300 year old pink granite obelisk, and I stare at it in disbelief. I really can't believe that something could be that old and still standing. The traffic doesn't improve much and we crawl along the right bank of the Seine River, which takes us almost all the way to where we want to go. We pass many more splendid old buildings, and with the busy river on the other side it is a sensual overload. I don't know which way I want to look, and each time I look in the opposite direction I seem to miss something spectacular. I'm in love with this city and I have hardly seen it. We will have to find time and come back here with Pierre. If my mouth isn't gaping open enough through the scenery, it hits the floor as we pull up in front of the Gare de Lyon. I can't believe that a train station can look so magnificent. It is completely stunning. It reminds me of pictures I have seen of French châteaux's, just with a huge masterpiece of a clock tower. Paris just keeps on amazing me. Mum pays the fare to the taxi driver, and we pile out and get our bags. Then we make our way up the stairs leading into the train station. In the station it is extremely busy. People are wandering here, there and everywhere. Some are boarding trains, others are getting off. Trains are arriving and departing with frightening regularity. With each train that arrives, comes another wave of people as they get off. I know that there is a train that goes to Vichy, but trying to find the right one looks like a nightmare. There is an electronic board showing all arriving and departing trains, but trying to find the one that we want is too hard. I see a lady who looks like she may be able to help us, so I go over to talk to her. I feel that we should show some respect here, so that is why I want to talk to her, as I at least can speak very basic French. But any French is better than none, and I have heard that the French appreciate the effort. "Bonjour Madame. Je m'appelle Josh. Je suis de la Nouvelle Zelande. Vous parlez anglais?" I say to the lady once I have got her attention. I figure that I had better tell her that I'm from New Zealand, as lots of foreigner's mistake us for Australians. Kiwis have a better reputation around the world than ozzies do, so I don't want to get mistaken for one. "Bonjour Josh. Yes I do speak English. How can I help?" The lady responds, smiling at me for at least making an effort. I get that giddy feeling inside me from actually speaking French well enough that she understands me. "Um... we need to get to Vichy. I know there is a train which leaves from here, but have no idea which one. Can you help us?" I say to her. The lady tells us to follow her, and she leads us to a ticket booth. She doesn't just stop there, as she also orders our tickets for us, and then leads us to the right platform. She tells us that the next train will be leaving in half an hour, and is due to arrive at the station in around fifteen minutes. There is a bench seat right in the middle of the platform, and it is unoccupied so we take a seat. "Merci!" I say to the lady as she is about to leave us. "Je vois en prie!" She replies. I'm not too sure what she has just said, but after a quick search in my guide book, I work out that she has said `you're welcome.' I am happy as I have just learnt a new phrase. I'm feeling really happy this morning with the knowledge that I will finally see Pierre again today. The time doesn't seem to be going too slow today which helps out a lot. I suppose a lot of the reason the time isn't at a standstill is that there is so much spectacular scenery around that my mind is concentrating more on that, than it is the time. The train pulls into the station and a whoosh of air blasts past us, as it comes to a stop just metres from where we are siting. The wave of passengers getting off the train swallows up the seat we are sitting on, and us included. As the passengers disperse I get a look at our train. It isn't as flash as some of the trains which have been coming and going from the station, but still flasher than anything we have back home. I'm pretty sure it just their standard run of the mill rolling stock, but to travel the approximately 350km to Vichy in three hours is still a lot more efficient than back home. The train which really interests me reminds me of an elongated bullet. They have a really slick look to them. They are painted blue at the bottom, and sleek silver colour at the top. It has a logo on it which says TGV in some sleek fancy writing. There are no real gaps in the whole length of the train, as even the gaps between carriages are covered in by some flexible plastic material. After a bit of research I find just how fast those trains are, as it will take a little over three and a half hours to travel to Pierre's home town of Avignon, via Nimes. So it only takes half an hour longer than travelling to Vichy, which is considerably closer to Paris in distance. With the arriving passengers now all off the train, everyone who is departing Paris for the likes of Vichy, start to board. We get up off the seat and head towards the nearest entrance and onto the train. We take the nearest empty seats and sit down with our bags at our feet. Now I'm starting to feel anxious again, as inside the train there isn't really anything of interest to look at. We just sit there waiting for the train to depart. Callum has definitely woken up properly, as he is so excited to be going that he is fidgeting around. He really can't sit still and is squirming around so much that he almost falls off the seat. I have to cover my mouth to stifle a laugh that is trying to escape after seeing Callum nearly fall off his seat. I don't blame him for being so fidgety, as I'm feeling antsy as well. I just want this train to hurry up and leave. A little hissing noise and the doors to the carriage close. Then the train suddenly lurches forward as the wheels gain traction. Slowly we pull out of the station and pick up speed. The train runs pretty quietly along the tracks. The only noise is a muffled clickety clack sound as the wheels glide over the tracks I stare out the window as we clear the station and make our way through what looks like a shunting yard. It is a maze of train tracks running all over the place. There are lots of rail junctions, dead end tracks, as well as those that continue on to the station. It is a vast sea of iron tracks and gravel, but it looks really impressive to me as I have never seen such a thing before. The train travels pretty slowly as it goes through the shunting yard, and we seem to constantly get switched from track to track. Once clear of the yard the train starts to increase momentum as we travel through the urban sprawl of Paris. Travelling by rail is not usually the best way of seeing a city, as it seems to attract the lower forms of society who tag the area and make it look unappealing. Paris isn't too different to other places I have experience in that regard. Obvious attempts have been made to keep the sides of the tracks looking clean and tidy, but the authorities are fighting a losing battle. Still I have to say that I am really impressed with Paris, and even the slum lined train tracks have lots of character. It is still a breath of fresh air to finally clear the city limits, and see the green rolling pastures of the countryside again. The French countryside is beautiful. We pass acres of tree lined farmland, lots of vineyards, the occasional small village or hamlet, which all seem to have their own unique character about them. We stop in some of the bigger towns as we make our way a little east of south towards Vichy. The more I see of France the more I love it. I can almost see myself living here. I know that New Zealand is an absolutely stunning country, but France is different. That's what I like about the place. There are so many buildings that have been standing long before New Zealand was even discovered, and yet most of them still look as solid as the day they were built. I've seen buildings which look more like castles nestled in the countryside surrounded by nothing but acres and acres of vines. The history here is what I truly love about the country, and the way it still prides itself by its past. It is totally awe inspiring. I get a tiny bit disappointed when the train pulls into the station at Vichy, but my disappointment is fleeting as I realise I am moments away from meeting up with Pierre again. The train gradually grinds to a halt, and the doors open with a hissing sounding noise. We get up out of our seats and head towards the nearest exit and disembark the train. The three hour trip doesn't seem to take that long, but I was concentrating so much on the scenery I didn't pay any attention to the time. By this point of the trip the train is pretty empty of passengers, so the platform isn't exceptionally crowded. The train station is another glorious old building, but nowhere near as impressive as the Gare de Lyon. It pales in comparison, not only by grandeur but size as well. I can see a little news stand beside the entrance to the station, so I go over there hoping that they have a map of the town. They do, so I motion for mum to come over, as she has the money to be able to pay for it. I unravel the map and look over it trying to spot where Pierre's street is in relation to the train station. I locate it not too far from the station and map out the directions that we need to take, and then I refold up the map and put it in my pocket. Callum is looking at me expectantly, wanting to know whether I know where we are going. My excitement levels are through the roof, so I never acknowledge my little brother. I don't need to. My reaction is enough of a giveaway, as I run out the entrance and into the courtyard in front of station. Only Callum has sprinted out with me. Mum and Sarah casually walk out as if it is just a normal day. I suppose it sort of is to them, but for me it is the most important day of my life. It is hard to walk normally with mum and Sarah. All I want to do is race off and get to Pierre's house as quickly as possible. My legs are threatening to run away with me, as I struggle to contain my enthusiasm. Callum is just as eager as I am, but we know we can't run off on mum and Sarah, as they will never find their way without me. My nerves are starting to take a hold of me, while we trudge our way towards Pierre's house. What if he doesn't remember me properly? What if he doesn't love me anymore? My mind is playing annoying tricks on me. I have talked with him recently, and he sounded ecstatic to hear that we are coming over to see him. But it isn't enough to stop my mind toying with me, as it has been a long time since we last saw each other. I really do hope he still feels the same way about me, as I do about him. We walk along the tree lined streets, taking in the old houses along the route. Vichy is definitely a different place to Paris, and has its own unique charm. There are a lot of apartment blocks which is all new to me, as back home apartments are few and far between. Most people in New Zealand live in detached houses. Here in France detached housing is the minority. Most houses are either terrace housing, or apartments. The advantage is that it keeps places a lot more compact and not big urban sprawls. It also helps to create character. We turn left once I find the street Pierre lives on. I check the number on the first house to see what side of the street we need to be on. We need to cross the road. It is a quiet street so crossing across to the other side is a piece of cake. We are pretty close to the edge of town, and the housing reflects that. The street is full of more modern detached housing, with the occasional old farmhouse in between. I get a bit of a surprise when I find the address that the immigration guy had given me. I had assumed that because Pierre's parents were pretty well off, that his uncle would be too. The house we are standing in front of doesn't reflect any sort of wealth what so ever. It looks tiny. The house is only one storey, and reminds me of an old servant's house. It is made from clay, and has an orange tinge to it. The house looks like it hasn't been very well maintained. It is in a pretty bad state of decay. There are lots of cracks in the clay, and some of them are pretty big like big enough to fit your hand into. Some of the corners are crumbly, and are more round than they are square. The slate tiled roof is in no better shape than the rest of the house. The front door is green and made of some type of wood. The paint is flaking and blistered from the intense summer sun. The brass doorknob looks very worn. The windows all contain shutters, which I have noticed is common in France. The shutters were at some stage painted white. But like the door, the summer sun has taken its toll on the paint. There is a small yard in front of the house. But it isn't in any better state. The grass is patchy, and riddled with weeds. The flower garden bordering the house contains more dead flowers than it does live ones. It is also overrun with weeds. The corner of the section closest the street there is a large tree, but it is barren of leaves. I'm not sure whether it's because the spring growth hasn't started yet, or if the tree is dead. It is a sad looking place, and probably should be condemned. I really start to worry that we have been given the wrong address. I really can't believe that anyone can live here. The other thing that's bothering me is that the house doesn't look big enough for two people to live there. I swallow hard trying to control my nerves, and go up to the front door and knock. Callum stands back with mum and Sarah, and starts to hug them. It is almost like he is nervous too. He isn't sure what to expect, and neither am I. I wait for a little while, but the door doesn't open. I just about knock again, but hear a rustling noise coming from the interior of the house. I then hear footsteps, which sound like they are coming towards the door. I patiently wait, but my nerves are shot. I hear a rattling on the door, and then the handle starts to turn. The door opens and a man emerges from the gloom making me feel really uncomfortable and a bit scared but I manage to keep my emotions in check. The man looks extremely skinny, almost too skinny. He is 6'1" tall, and weighs about 57kg. He has a really dark tan, but it has a weathered sort of look to it. Like what you would expect on someone who has worked his whole life under the elements. His face is craggy and wrinkled, with deep set brown eyes. His long straight nose sort of reminds me of my own, as it looks like it has been broken a few times. He has thin reddish brown lips which are parched from years in the sun. His head is bald, and any hair that still grows has been shaved off. The man has on a blue and red flannel shirt, which is undone at the front showing a grubby white singlet underneath. He is also wearing some dark tan shorts. I try hard not to stare but seeing a makeshift wooden leg protruding from the leg of his shorts is really hard to ignore. He must have had an accident which has led to his left leg getting amputated. I pull my eyes off his wooden leg, and try to focus on his face. I think he is about to say something, but he just puts a clenched hand up to his mouth and coughs into it. The cough is awful, and it sounds like he is trying to cough his lungs up. Gradually his coughing stops and he looks at us again. "Quelqu'un est à la porte pour vous!" The man yells in a deep booming voice, back into the house. ************ Comments are always welcome at (pennywise3636@gmail.com). Please keep all comments clean. If possible please kick in a few bucks at the Nifty Website, to keep it up and running. 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