Our Hearts as One

Johan: Part 7

She had to be kidding. Mrs. Linda, the French teacher, called me and said it was urgent. She had a student in need of help and I was to go straight away. I would have refused but she said it was extra credit. Not that I needed it but I always wanted the extra points. I froze in the doorway hating the world. Mrs. Linda never told me who the student was, she just gave me an address and I stupidly went along with it. Now Mrs. Baxter was standing in front of me, welcoming me into her home and introducing me to her son, absolutely oblivious to everything that has happened between us. I started to see red. This couldn't be happening. Mrs. Baxter led me over to the living room and told me to take a seat on the couch and told Ted to go get his textbook. 

"Paul will be out with some hors d'oeuvres."

I smiled and nodded wondering who Paul was-maybe Ted's dad?- but also thankful that she was providing food. I was starving. I hoped Paul would prepare some traditional French hors d'oeuvres instead of some deviled eggs. Those were not French appetizers as the name implies...but when Paul came out-who I realized to be a butler-he was holding a plate of freaking deviled eggs. He set them on the table and bowed out of the room and I just stared in shock. They lived in a god forsaken penthouse and had their own staff? The freaking place was huge! The walls were mainly made of glass and had a great view over the New York skyline.

"Is this going to take long?" Ted sighed as he walked down the stairs clutching the French textbook.

"Depends on how fast you learn. Mrs. Linda doesn't want me to stop until you have an A in her class and you can at least hold a short conversation." I informed him. He shot me a death glare like this was all my fault. I figured he was gonna say some smart remark but to my surprise he just opened the textbook.

"So what's first tutor?" He asked with heavy sarcasm.

I ignored it and flipped through my book. "Well I assume you know the basics, like greetings and everyday terms?" I looked up at him for clarification and he nodded slowly like I was stupid. I rolled my eyes at him, then the book. It was filled with such useless information. At this rate he would never learn French.
I threw down my book on the bed beside me.
"You are never going to learn anything if we follow this book. French is a pretty simple language to learn when you go the right way about it."

"How are you supposed to teach me without the book. What are you perfectly fluent in French or something?"

"En fait, je le suis. Je suis né à Paris. {In fact, I am. I was born in Paris.} I lived there until I was seven. So I know the language." I said.

"But that was ten years ago. How do you still remember it all?"

"I have a perfect memory."

He rolled his eyes then looked at me. "Just answer me this time. That woman in the photo was your mom right? You were adopted when you were seven. Why did your mom give you up? You both looked so happy in the photo."

Jesus I thought. This kid never quit. "We were happy together. Until I reached the age of 6. Dad left us and mom went nuts. She drank and smoked and became pretty violent. She took it out on me a bit. By the time I turned seven I think she snapped out of it and realized how she had been. She was disgusted with herself, thought herself to be mentally insane so she wanted to go to rehab and she didn't want me around for that. She was always afraid of another outburst and she didn't want to hurt me. So she put me up for adoption and left me. I was moved to five different foster homes in less than 2 months. No one wanted a scarred 7 year old until Amie and Jack came along. Amie was hesitant but Jack wanted me right away and they took me in as their own, they helped me pick up my broken pieces. I never appreciate them enough and I still feel sometimes as if Amie doesn't necessarily want me but I know they both really love me." I said and felt my face grow hot. I had forgotten where I was and just spilled my guts to my worst enemy. He was probably going to laugh.