The Louvre

[Deleted]

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin

The woman didn't respond for a moment. Had he not spoken clearly or loudly enough? He didn't know how that was possible, considering the fact that they were practically face-to-face. He waited impatiently, his hand rested on the door handle. Perhaps she forgot what she came here for. If that was the case, Evrard would be none too happy, not that he was very pleased right now. Oh, how much more quickly the world would turn, if it weren't for everyday incompetence.

Finally, the woman smiled, a sign that his voice had registered in her skull. “Bonjour, sir,” In the first slippery syllable, Evrard realized the problem. She was not French. She was - what? - American? English? She had said "sir," the "r" not coming out as clearly as an American's, but he couldn't be sure, so he waited for her to continue, interested in how she would converse. “Je suis Natalie Blackwood… Je suis désolé si j'ai interrompu tout. I’m looking for the curator’s office. Or human resource management. Whichever you can point me to?”

Well, at least her French wasn't entirely atrocious. It was understandable enough. Fortunately for her, Evrard was more well-versed in her language than she was in his. And he was right, she was English. He had never found English to be as poetic as French, but he had to admit that the English could speak the language very well - far better than the sloppy Americans with their phonetic carelessness.

So this woman was lost. She was looking for either the curator or human resource management? What on earth could she be doing looking for either? Well, Evrard was about to find out. He glanced at the nameplate on his door and smiled politely at the woman, suppressing his impatience for a little while longer. "I manage human resources, among other things, Ms. Blackwood. Please, come in." He opened the door wider to allow her to enter and then closed it behind her. It seemed his break was now cut short. He had hoped the disturbance could be taken care of at the door, but it appeared the woman had business to attend to that would probably take more than just a moment of his time.

Evrard walked over to the woman and shook her hand noncommittally before gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. "As you saw from the door, my name is Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin." He straightened his jacket. "So," he walked around the desk and sat down in his chair, making himself comfortable and yet business-like. His fingers laced together and set themselves on the clean, organized surface of his desk. "What brings you to the Louvre - and to my office - today, Ms. Blackwood?"

[Deleted]

Rachel Day

Rachel Day slid her hands into her new yellow jacket pockets, and sat on the bench bringing her shoulders up to her ears for warmth. The crisp air was refreshing even though cold, and the sun was peaking out just enough to make everything seem brighter and better. Just the fact that soon she would be with Lucian and for the first time meeting Gregory made everything brighter and better, with or without the sunshine.

Before Rachel left for New York, Lucian served as a fatherly type figure to her. He had allowed her to stay at his estate, even though it was a complete shock to him at first. The memory of that first morning bringing a grin to her face. She recalled even slipping out a comment about his age! Good times at that household. With Ashton, they made like a Wicked cast or something! Lucian and Rachel were incredibly close though, and leaving Lucian when she went to New York City was one of the hardest things. She appreciated their long discussions, the walks home from work late at night, and everything else. Now that he and Ashton had a little baby boy made Rachel Day feel like she had missed out on so much. They sent her pictures and had kept in touch from time to time, but that was not the same. Now Rachel could make up for those lost times.

She was early but on purpose. Rachel and Lucian had agreed over the phone twelve thirty, but she was ten minutes late. She needed to get out of that hotel room! Goodness, she had already gone stir crazy. Except, the room service menu was her best friend as of early this morning. Rachel had gone out early right when the shops open to purchase the start of her new wardrobe. She forgot how much fun shopping was! She splurged like no other and it felt pretty darn good too. Shopping was a woman's best friend. It was a really strange feeling to have to start from scratch on her wardrobe, including underwear and socks, but nothing says a fresh new start like new underwear! Which, by the way, she found these cute ones with ducks and hearts. What a combination!

Shutting her eyes for a moment, Rachel Day took in the sounds. The air whipping, the people from far away talking. Something that she realized was how much people take advantage of moments like this. Just, appreciating everything. It was relaxing. It was a complete one eighty from last night. Last night when Santiago Ortiz had to help her escape a New York City hospital or she was sure a dead woman, had to run in a hospital gown to only pay off a store clerk and buy clothes, and then hop on a plane and get picked up by Santiago Ortiz- who did she mention was her ex-boyfriend? As of now, he really didn't seem like that to her. At least, in her mind when she thought of him that wasn't the label she had smashed on his forehead. He had helped her so much last night. Rachel Day had, for the most part, about passed out right when she landed on the bed- which was when she pretty much walked into the door. It hadn't lasted long as she kept getting nightmares and she had a panic attack. It was frightening, but Rachel had managed to get herself together. She had for the past year alone anyways, and a hotel room was much better than a hospital where she had been for so long. Did she mention the room service?!

This was nice though. Rachel Day had freaked out this morning, feeling like someone were watching her from above her in the buildings like where she had gotten shot from, but she had done a little bit of meditation back at the hotel room before coming here, and she felt completely calm.

Rachel was in Paris away from New York, meeting Lucian and Gregory, and it was all good.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

The sun was too bright to merely stay inside all day. It was the sort of day made for walking; mild enough for the city to come from its hibernation and stir with life. Although, Lucian supposed he still would have taken Gregory outside, even if they had to trek through a grey and rainy fog, if only to get away from Henry for the afternoon. Ashton had announced over breakfast that she was ready to prepare herself for a triumphant return to work, which meant she was designating today—and at least one other day a week—to get more exercise than her Mummy and Me yoga class had provided. Henry, of course, had grumbled snidely; Lucian, who wasn’t sold on the idea of Ashton working out so soon, decided to support her with all the cheerful enthusiasm of a good husband-to-be. And shortly after Ashton left, he set to work bundling Gregory up for the chilly air so the two could spend the day wandering through Paris.

And then the phone rang.

Lucian hadn’t heard from Rachel Day in a while; last he had heard, she was on a meteoric rise to Broadway stardom. Suddenly, she was back in Paris and staying in a hotel in the heart of the city. She wasn’t working a show, so Lucian hadn’t the foggiest, but that she was back gave him incentive to walk a little faster with the pram, and even lug the giant thing through the metro against Ashton’s wishes. They’d discuss travelling policy after Henry left. Lucian didn’t feel like arguing in front of the man who already wanted their son in protective custody for petty, nonexistent reasons. Lucian banished the thought from his mind. He’d made peace with Henry a few days ago. After a fashion, of course. It wasn’t a traditional or easy peace, but it was something. He needn’t taint Gregory with his own biases.

He pushed the pram alongside the Jardin de Tuileries. Gregory’s wide, blue eyes looked up at Lucian. Ashton insisted they were purely identical, the eyes. Lucian, meanwhile, insisted they were his color and Ashton’s shape. He would, thought Lucian, have his mummy’s smile. He could see it already in Gregory’s toothless grin, some sort of mischief behind the eyes, hidden mirth.

“Are you smiling at me, Greggy?” Lucian asked, a smile tugging at his own, thin lips. “You’re going to be quite a heartbreaker with that smile. Mummy and I will have to keep a close watch on you.”

Lucian looked up. The glass pyramid of the Louvre was easily in sight, glittering in the early afternoon sun. He wished Gregory had a more modern looking stroller so he could see the world beyond the face of whoever pushed the pram and the sky above. He’d invest in one after he sold the Jaguar and sorted the month’s bills. Gregory deserved to see the city he’d one day call home. Lucian sped up his walk a little bit. Gregory also deserved to meet Rachel within this lifetime. Leisurely strolling could wait.

They finally approached the outdoor plaza near the museum. Rachel was impossible to miss in her bright yellow jacket. Lucian waved with one hand and approached her where she sat on the bench.

“Hello, stranger,” he said, grinning and stopping in front of her with Gregory and the buggy.

Rachel looked different, but Lucian couldn’t place it. Maybe time had changed him, too, in subtle ways. Certainly, his eyes were baggier, more sleepless, more lined. Rachel didn’t look like she’d spent last night with a colicky baby, though. A little shadow below the eyes, perhaps, from the time-zone change, but there was something else, almost imperceptible lurking behind the eyes. A parent’s intuition, perhaps, or expectation that something had to have changed in the past months.

Things in Lucian’s household certainly had. It was scarcely the same “castle” Rachel had once stayed in. It was no longer merely his and Ashton’s love nest, his early retirement home. It was a family home with three generations there. The people there, too, were different—some ways subtle, others dramatic—from the ones Rachel had spent months calling her roommates. They were engaged now, Lucian and Ashton—something he’d neglected to mention, somehow, in the emails. He’d assumed when sending them that Rachel knew. Now, standing here with her and Gregory and no Ashton, Lucian realized that news ought to have come first.

First comes love… Then comes marriage…

“I have someone who wants to meet you,” he said. “Would you like to say ‘hello’?”

[Deleted]

Rachel Day


It was difficult to miss Lucian as he approached with a large and in charge pram! Rachel Day’s mouth gapped open as she stood from her sitting position, and she couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh. She shouldn’t have been too shocked at such a colorful little nest for Gregory. No doubt, it had to have been Ashton’s idea because she knew Ashton, and Rachel for certain would have done the same thing! Lucian looked like the Lucian she remembered; a little more, well, fatherly now as when they have children they become a little more tired, but there was a certain proud glow to him that no doubt was because of Gregory. Rachel didn’t have a good view of Gregory yet and she did not which handsome gent to look at first, but she was just so refreshed to see Lucian.

Sure, to the outside eyes it may have looked a little odd to have their relationship. Rachel Day understood but that’s because everyone else didn’t understand. Rachel always felt this daughterly- friend feeling toward him, and maybe it was one sided, but that’s how she explained her part of it. Society had such a way of thinking two different people shouldn’t be friends because it didn’t make sense, but relationship dynamics didn’t have to ‘make sense’ if they existed. Lucian had been Rachel’s roommate and her friend’s significant other. How could they have not gotten close? He had been there for her a few times, and because of that, she felt she could trust him. Right now more than ever Rachel Day could use someone she trusted.

“Hello stranger.”

“Hello!”

Rachel Day gleamed, but now her attention couldn’t help but be right to that buggy.

“I have someone who wants to meet you. Would you like to say ‘hello’?”

“Oh, would I ever!" Rachel said with a bright smile.

Approaching the buggy, she put her hair behind her ears. Hovering over a little bit but not so much that she would upset him, Rachel looked inside and she gasped lightly, putting a hand over her mouth. Gregory was so adorable! Rachel Day had never been around a baby before. She couldn’t help but feel so happy for Ashton and Lucian. They had a family now. “Hi little fella’.” Rachel cooed softly, waving one of her fingers. “My name’s Rachel Day.” Gregory made a little gurgling sound with a smile. Rachel gasped and giggled, a little bit apprehensive to touch it or something because he was so fragile and she was so new at things like this. He was so new to the world and innocent. Rachel Day grew silent for a moment and tilted her head with a warm smile. Out of everything that Rachel was going through, it all didn’t matter right now. Gregory had his entire life ahead of him. His hands were so adorably tiny too!

Looking over her shoulder at Lucian, Rachel grinned, her eyes stinging with tears. “He has your eyes.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Alexis Beauchamps

Alexis wasn’t much of an art fan. Art wasn’t bad, it wasn’t boring, but Alexis never understood how someone could look for hours at one piece of art and get more than one interpretation. But Blaise did, and Blaise was the reason Alexis was here today. And though Blaise only really got one interpretation—the “right one”, he insisted—of any given painting, Alexis was happy to take him to the Louvre, and was interested to see how the mind of his six year old worked. It was shockingly clinical, realistic. Where most kids asked questions and played make-believe with everything, Blaise was honest and unabashedly so. Alexis didn’t know where to pin it on Blaise’s Asperger’s or on the scientific genes passed on from Carine and him.

“What about this one, Blaise?” Alexis asked, pointing to a battle scene entitled The Intervention of the Sabine Woman.

Blaise sighed, scrutinizing it, staring at every last brushstroke, giving each one at least thirty seconds each. “The boys are fighting and the girl is telling them to stop it.”

“Hmm…” Alexis thought aloud, “What about the kids in the picture?”

“Papa, their maman’s arms are reaching for the boys, she can’t hold them right now.” Blaise enlightened him, as if it was the most obvious thought in the world.

“I never thought about that, thank you, Blaise.” Alexis said, and he truly was. Blaise had changed his life; from the moment he was born, he had shown Alexis new things about the world in which he lived, new ways to look at this. Paintings were no exception.

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

Valter had mixed feelings about Art. He appreciated the status symbol that it became for those who owned well known pieces, he appreciated the cost of a piece of an artist's talent and he appreciated the skill with which those artists had created what he could not. However, he wasn't one to walk through museums and see these pieces. The most well known pieces generally weren't even the real ones but very well done fakes so that the real ones wouldn't be ruined. Also, he could just as easily google these pieces of art and, should he want to see more of them, create a desktop themed around fine arts with rotating slides of great works. In short, he wasn't big on museums.

There was something about going to museums as a child though, something particularly fascinating about seeing such beautiful things. And, perhaps, there was a young artist living under his very roof whose talents might be inspired by great masters before her. This was why he had brought Edie, that and she had asked to go to the "great big glass building".

He couldn't possibly be sure what he art they had seen so far or what was coming up, he hadn't been paying that much attention. Rather, he had been watching the awed and interested face on his little girl.

"Daddy! Daddy, look at this one! Look at all the colors!"

She was marveled and this made Valter very, very happy. That is, until they came up on a relatively well guarded exhibit and his little 5 year old decided that it was time to crawl under the ropes around the artwork and try to touch. Valter could see a guard coming up out of the corner of his eye. Oh, no.

"Edie! Get out of there, come back over here! We don't touch the art. "

Edie hurried back, skirting around the guard that had finally met up with them and wrapping herself around Valter's leg.

"You alright, little bug?" he said, smiling at the little girl. "We don't touch any of the art here, alright? Just use your eyes okay, my love?"

Edie nodded at her dad, letting go of his leg to look at something else. Valter would have to keep a closer eye on her than he had initially thought.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Alexis Beauchamps

Alexis was almost completely lost in the painting, if the grief stricken face of the woman who was going mad with anguish, with the oblivious smiles of the children playing, with the angry warlike men who framed the east and west areas of the picture… For a man who didn’t appreciate art, this picture was quite intriguing. He figured his attention would flag when Blaise grabbed his hand to take him to another painting, but he never assumed his train of focus would switch tracks when Blaise yelled, ”Papa! Papa! She can’t do that!” as he pointed to a young girl crawling beneath the ropes. But Alexis brushed it off, telling Blaise it was rude to point. The child was accompanied, and was of no concern to Alexis. So he focused again on the painting, wondering how someone could make something so lifelike, so smooth and flawless.

But Alexis’s heart skipped like a scratched CD when he realized Blaise was not at his side anymore, and the painting became nothing to him again as she looked around for his son. The three seconds that spanned felt like an eternity until his eyes fell on him. There he was, talking with the young girl who climbed beneath the rope. Alexis smiled for a moment, glad that Blaise was making friends. Blaise had few, if any, friends at school, and getting him to mingle with other children was a difficult feat. Maybe, just maybe, he was branching out, growing, making improvement. But Alexis’s smile faded, as did his false illusions when he realized Blaise wasn’t making childish small talk, but scolding the girl.

“You can’t do that. It says so on the sign. Do not touch the art. You broke the rules. Do not touch the art.”

Alexis put his hands on Blaise’s shoulders, addressing the adult male with the female child. “I am very sorry, sir, for my son, Blaise.” He sighed almost breathlessly before sticking out a quit hand. “Alexis,” he introduced himself before turning his attention back onto his son. “Blaise, you can’t just go up to people and scold them.”

“But she broke the rules, Papa. The sign says Do not touch the art.” Blaise dropped his voice into a whisper. “They have alarms, Papa.”

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

He watched as his daughter stopped near the ropes again, not passing them this time, just standing at them. Clearly, it had been a successful learning experience. Valter caught the movement of a young boy out of the corner of his eye and watched carefully. Children generally had astonishing ways of interacting with one another. Everything that they did was so void of ulterior motives; it was fantastic.

“You can’t do that. It says so on the sign. Do not touch the art. You broke the rules. Do not touch the art.”

Valter bit the end of his thumb, crossing his arms over his body. What should he do? Should he come to the rescue of his young daughter? Was she really being bullied or was this just the child of an overbearing and overly cautious parent? Did Edie need his help? Even if she did, what if this was the sort of thing that he was supposed to let her figure out on her own? Parenting was so damn difficult! It was a short time though, before a man about Valter's age walked up to the young boy and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, looking to Valter.

“I am very sorry, sir, for my son, Blaise.” He sighed almost breathlessly before sticking out a quit hand. “Alexis,” he introduced himself before turning his attention back onto his son. “Blaise, you can’t just go up to people and scold them.”

Valter shook the man's hand, muttering his own name distractedly as Alexis turned back to his own son who was now speaking.

“But she broke the rules, Papa. The sign says Do not touch the art.” Blaise dropped his voice into a whisper. “They have alarms, Papa.”

Valter smiled. It clearly was not the case of an overbearing parent, rather it was a case of a very cautious child. This was something that he couldn't really remember having seen before. At least, not to this extent.

Valtered turned back to the man named Alexis. "It's really nothing to worry about, I appreciate Blaise saving us the trouble of the alarms."

He looked back to Edie, gesturing that she should come back to his side where she quickly returned, placing her small hand in his large one. "Edie, did you know that there are some terribly noisy alarms in places like this for people who break the rules? This boy Blaise seems to know a lot about them."

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Alexis Beauchamps

Alexis bit his lip, worried. He loved his son more than life itself, but people could be cruel. Blaise was a handsome boy. He wasn’t deformed, or blind, or crippled, but people, even strangers could tell he was… different. And the treatment they gave him hurt Alexis to the core. Asperger’s didn’t mean stupid, or “special”, it meant Blaise was just like every other kid, but with a different thought pattern, which didn’t deserve unique treatment or rude words. And Alexis, even in public, would fight for his son’s integrity, Blaise unaware, babbling on happily about elevators or fish. And this time was no different. Alexis prepared himself to defend his child, readied a calm, collected speech in his mind, prepared himself for the ignorant words of yet another stranger. But none came. Instead, he got a kind smile and "It's really nothing to worry about, I appreciate Blaise saving us the trouble of the alarms."

Alexis smiled graciously at the man before he turned away to his own child. "Edie, did you know that there are some terribly noisy alarms in places like this for people who break the rules? This boy Blaise seems to know a lot about them.”

Blaise’s smile widened, too and he began talking animatedly at the father and daughter. ”They’re motion activated. If you get close enough to one, the alarm—Wee-ooo—“ he imitated the alarm, “goes off! And you see that?” Blaise pointed at the small camera in the corner. “for 24 hours a day, the security men watch it, and,” Blaise’s voice got excitedly low, as if it was the best secret in the world. “Most of them are war veterans, so they have guns.”

“Blaise is my go-to man for information like this. He’s… incredibly interested.” Alexis said, running a hand along the ebony curls that adorned Blaise’s head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch your name earlier…?”

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

The Swede listened intently as the young boy before him began to speak with great excitement. It was truly incredible how much children enjoyed the things they were interested in. Valter could tell that this boy was a bit different than most children but he was an entertaining child and very knowledgeable and Valter would never dare to make any kid feel as if they were strange. Having a vast knowledge of security systems was no reason for someone to be pinned as strange...precocious, maybe.

”They’re motion activated. If you get close enough to one, the alarm—Wee-ooo—“ he imitated the alarm, “goes off! And you see that?” Blaise pointed at the small camera in the corner. “for 24 hours a day, the security men watch it, and,” Blaise’s voice got excitedly low, as if it was the best secret in the world. “Most of them are war veterans, so they have guns.”

Valter looked back to Edie as Blaise was speaking to see her a bit confused and not quite sure what the boy was talking about but, still interested in what the young man had to say. Edie loved to learn and she loved to make friends.

“Blaise is my go-to man for information like this. He’s… incredibly interested.” Alexis said, running a hand along the ebony curls that adorned Blaise’s head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch your name earlier…?”

"My apologies!" Valter said, extending his hand out of pure habit, despite having shook Alexis' hand already, "Valter Gottfrid, and this, is Edie," he said, introducing his daughter, his fingertips on her shoulder.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Alexis Beauchamps

“My apologies!” the man exclaimed, extending his hand once again, which, even in the absurdness of the redundancy, it was a kind gesture. "Valter Gottfrid, and this, is Edie," he said, introducing both himself and Edie.

“Why, hello, Edie!” he said kindly, taking the young girl’s hand as well. “I see you’ve met Blaise.” He motioned to his own child.

“I’m Blaise.” Blaise said, as if clarifying Alexis. “The Musee du Louvre opened on August 10, 1793 with 537 pieces, but it closed three years later. It opened again in 1801, but this time it was called Musee Napoleon and then there were 20,000 pieces. The eight sections it has today weren’t made until 2008.” Blaise informed their new acquaintances.

Alexis was constantly impressed by the wealth of knowledge his son had. Where did he learn this? How did he get his hands on such glorious nuggets of information? Every day, Alexis learned something new from him, whether it was a new factoid, or even how to be a better man, and it was an amazing feeling.

“As you can tell,” he said with a quiet laugh, “we come here often. What brings you here?”

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

“Why, hello, Edie!” he said kindly, taking the young girl’s hand as well. “I see you’ve met Blaise.” He motioned to his own child.

Edie shook the man's hand gladly and smiled, but quickly returned to half hiding behind Valter's lanky leg. as much as the young girl enjoyed playing with new friends and enjoying the company of others, grownups made her a bit nervous and required some warming up to. She would be her normal charismatic self in a few minutes.

“I’m Blaise.” Edie smiled at the young boy, still holding Valter's hand but waving at the young boy who had begun to spout off some more information. “The Musee du Louvre opened on August 10, 1793 with 537 pieces, but it closed three years later. It opened again in 1801, but this time it was called Musee Napoleon and then there were 20,000 pieces. The eight sections it has today weren’t made until 2008.”

Valter was amazed by this young boy. He seemed to have a limitless wealth of information, at least about fine art, security systems and museums. Valter couldn't imagine that even he knew about anything in such detail. Well, except maybe wintergear and iron mining. He still wasn't sure what was going on with the kid, maybe he was just a genius? It wasn't polite to overly speculate on the oddities of others though and so, Valter returned back to the world around him from his thoughts.

“As you can tell,” he said with a quiet laugh, “we come here often. What brings you here?”

Valter smiled as he thought out his words, "I'm attempting to be Mr. Mom I guess. Imparting an appreciation for fine art and museums on my daughter, keeping her entertained and praying that she doesn't become a cell phone obsessed teenager." Valter chuckled to himself, "I guess I have a long time before I really have to worry about that though."

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Alexis Beauchamps

The man, Valter, offered an almost poignant smile. "I'm attempting to be Mr. Mom I guess.”

Alexis nodded; that was a tango he danced every day. He danced it, even with his two left feet and lack of coordination. He danced it even at three in the morning when he had rather be sleeping. He danced it when the steps were easy and difficult, and twirled his six year old dance partner around and around, being grateful for every moment he had with Blaise all along the way. It was a delicate line he toed, being a single dad. One small thing could send plummeting off the balance beam, one wrong step and he would come crashing down to the ground. But Alexis liked to believe that he was good enough at maintaining a homeostasis, an equilibrium within his little family that he rarely had to worry about the tight rope wire beneath his feet or the height of a fall he risked, but rather, the reward he was getting by succeeding: seeing Blaise grow up to be as wonderful of a man as he was a child.

“Imparting an appreciation for fine art and museums on my daughter, keeping her entertained and praying that she doesn't become a cell phone obsessed teenager."

Alexis laughed. It was one of every parents’ fears. That their child would develop into a socially inept technological zombie. And ice cream trucks. Alexis didn’t know a single parent who was okay with ice cream trucks. "I guess I have a long time before I really have to worry about that though."

“Thank God, too, right?” Alexis said with a laugh. “I like to think I’ve been raising Blaise with the ideals he needs to eschew the comatose lifestyles of texting teens. Fine arts are important for a developing mind, and it’s sad that a lot of parents don’t see that, so thank you, sir, for helping to benefit the future. It’s admirable.”

It really was. Among the other single fathers he had met, they all imported their love of sport and fast Italian cars on their sons and daughters. That was fine. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that, and had Alexis enjoyed those things, he might have, too. But there was no variety, no culture in that. If Blaise wanted to work on cars, Alexis would be open to it as long as the works of Mozart and Bach played in their garage, as long as Sutherland’s or Domingo’s voice filled the entire volume of their space. With modern technology, arts were tossed to the side, smothered by the likes of social media and fashionable fads. Alexis looked around and observed the other people around them a minute. Most of them were older than him, it seemed, and Edie and Blaise were the youngest in their vicinity, with the exception of bored looking tourist children with their children. Teenagers stood around, wires shoved into their ears, cellphones out. “I mean look at that,” he said. “Within ten yards of the Mona Lisa and they could care less.”

“Couldn’t care less, Papa,” Blaise corrected him.

“Yes, thank you. You’re right.” He always thanked Blaise for correcting him. Looking ignorant was no fun, especially for a 35 year old, PhD holding professor, and acknowledging Blaise’s gift (for that was what he referred to it as) was good for his son’s self-esteem. “Ten yards away from the Mona Lisa and they couldn’t care less. It’s just sad.”

He demounted his soapbox before he had a chance to begin a rant.