Not every weekend was as perfect as this one. I think that David was really getting annoyed with my

eradicate behavior. I pushed him away constantly, only to want him more each time we made up. It was

maddening and not just for me.

Maybe for David, even though we couldn’t be lovers, it would have been enough if I’d been a nice

brother to him. But I could not separate those two things; it was all or nothing for me. So most of the time I

was cruel and irrational and sided with my dad. I now that David wouldn’t take this bullshit from any

other person in the world, he’s not a complete idiot, but he loved me so much that he was willing to

overlook most of my behavior. Sometimes I think he knew that I was only being mean to him to create a

distance, but other times he was genuinely hurt too. When we fought at the dinner table and me and my dad

agreed on one of David’s many stupidities, I could see he had a hard time swallowing it down. He wanted

dad and me to like him. He wanted to be accepted by us as a son and a brother.

Always eager to please, he usually wouldn’t respond to one of my cruel remarks. But he knew a more

effective way to hurt me.

He started dating again and brought home a new guy for me to be jealous over. He would make out with

him in front of me, let that guy French kiss him and stick his tongue deep down his throat while he knew

that I was watching. He’d invite the new guy, Mark, over for birthday parties and barbeques until finally I

thought I was dying inside. I had to get out of there.

“I want to go back to Paris for another year,” I told my dad. “Why?” he asked me. “Things are going so

well at the firm, I thought you liked working there.”

“I do,” I said. “And I’ll work at the firm again once I come back, but I need some more time on my own.

I want to go back to the Sorbonne for another year.” My dad could tell that I was serious.

“You have been working really hard the last couple of months.” My dad said. “I don’t want you to have

a burn-out before you reach thirty.”

“I won’t,” I said. “But there’s so much I still want to do. I want to live another year in Paris before I

settle down here.”

“Alright then,” my dad said. “But promise me you’ll come back.”

“I will,” I said.

David took it hard when I told him I would be leaving for another year. “You’ve won again,” he said

bitterly when I went to say goodbye to him.

“What do you mean?” I said. “I didn’t think this was a game.”

“Then why are you leaving again?” he said.

“You have Mark now,” I said. “Why do you want me to stay anyway? I’m always such an asshole to

you.” He threw me a bitter smile. “Mark doesn’t compare to you.” I swallowed down the lump in my

throat.

“You won’t even miss me,” I said.

“Fuck you,” he said and I could see he was trembling. “I’ll miss you like crazy,” he said. “But I won’t

hear from you, just like the last time. I’ll write you but you’ll just forget about me again.”

“I didn’t forget about you,” I said. I closed the distance between us and hugged him hard. He tried to

back away from my touch.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to not hear from you for another

year.”

“This time things will be different,” I said.

“Do you promise?”

“Yeah I promise,” I said and I kissed the top of his head. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he

said with a sad smile. “I’ve known you longer than today.”

PART 5 PARIS

19. A second time in Paris

So I went back to Paris and this time I enjoyed the city a lot more than the previous two years I’d spend

here. I enrolled into university classes once more, in a post-graduate Public international law program

and practiced my French. I also worked part-time for my dad’s acquaintances’ law firm, the guy who

rented me the apartment the first time I was in Paris.

With my dad’s financial aid I now rented a really nice apartment at the ‘Le Marais’ district, which

spreads across parts of the 3rd and 4th arrondissements in Paris on the Right Bank of the Seine. The

apartment still wasn’t large but a lot bigger than the last one where I’d lived. It was also more luxuriously

furnished and had a bathroom with an actual bathtub. I was on the top floor of the building and the view

from my living room was spectacular.

I loved my new neighborhood too. The rue des Rosiers, close to where I lived, is still a major centre of

the Paris Jewish community, with numerous restaurants and other places to get great kosher food. I liked

new experiences like tasting all the unfamiliar food and checking out the interesting sites in the area.

There was so much history here in Paris and it was cool to be a part of that.

The neighborhood had a thriving gay scene too with many gay cafés, nightclubs, cabarets and shops. I

hadn’t been out much when I was working for dad but now that I was on my own again I didn’t want to sit

at home alone every night. Near the streets Sainte-Croix de la Bretonnerie and Vieille du Temple were a

couple of places I went to on occasion and that’s where I met Remi too.

I often went to ‘Le Duplex’ at the Rue Michel le Comte for drinks and in the hope that I would meet

some nice guy that would make me forget all about David. It was a small club, the cosmopolitan crowd

was crammed together so after a couple of beers everybody started talking together. The people were

what you could describe as ‘champagne socialists’, a hip politically correct bunch, just like my stepbrother.

The guys I hung out with at university came here often because of the atmosphere and the nice

musical line-up.

Remi was standing at the bar looking at the crowd when I came up to order drinks for a new friend from

university and myself. When I saw him lounging against the bar I was immediately struck by how

handsome he was. He was shorter than I am, I could almost rest my chin on his dark glossy hair, and he

was slim but not in a girlish way. His arms were slender but nicely muscular and he had this ethnic

leather bracelet around his wrist. He looked up to me when I was standing next to him. I couldn’t help but

stare into his dark eyes, which had a sweet innocent look about them.

“Are you going to buy me a drink?” he asked in French and I did.

When I went home with him a couple of hours later it turned out that he wasn’t nearly as innocent as he

looked. We were both a little intoxicated when we undressed in the dark and I nearly tripped while I was

stripping off my jeans. Luckily it was so dark that he didn’t see much of my clumsiness. I was still

undressing when he put one some French music that I didn’t recognize and started kissing me. His mouth

tasted ashy. It was the first time I’d ever kissed someone who smoked. He was a great kisser though.

I pushed him towards the bed and when he let himself fall backwards I was on top of him in one fluent

move. His skin was hot and smooth against mine. It felt amazing to feel someone’s naked body against

mine after all of those months of jerking off alone.

His hands were in my boxer shorts kneading my ass and I pulled his briefs down without ending our

kiss. When I finally felt his hard-on against mine, my heart jumped. We rubbed our dicks together while

my hands touched him all over. He was so hot that his hips were already bucking against mine. He

grabbed behind him on the nightstand and offered me a condom and some lube. It was so dark that I

couldn’t get the package open quickly enough and he had to rip open the foil for me. He put on a condom

as well, I guessed so that the bed wouldn’t get too messy. I massaged some of the lube on my dick and slid