Gaston’s Story, Part II

By Tan MN

 

The sun rose in brilliant shades of yellow and orange when the wagon reached the Village.  Gaston woke LeFou up.  They needed to find Jean Paul and his family.  The faster Gaston gave them the stag, the faster he could track down Belle.  It wouldn’t be hard.  It was a little town, a quiet village.  A little town, full of little people, waking up to say…

           

“Bonjour!”

           

“Bonjour!”

           

“Bonjour!  Bonjour! Bonjour!”

           

LeFou yawned.  “Look, there goes the baker with his tray like always.  The same old bread and rolls to sell.”  The Main Street suddenly burst with life.  The Village was like a new seedling, germinating in full force with the advent of the sun.  Gaston viewed the bustling.  Morning time was a busy time for any Village, but he could not stand to live here.  There must be more than this provincial life.  Then he saw Belle.  Her dark brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail.  Her blue smock danced lightly in the breeze.  And as LeFou predicted, her head was buried in a book.  Well, maybe there is something more than this provincial life.  The other villagers were subtly giving Belle space and trying their hardest not to stare.  No one could comprehend why someone, much less a woman, would waste their time in a book.  Life was hard, and there were many ends to meet.   With Belle’s absentmindedness and her father’s creative antics, some privately wondered how long it would be until their family succumbed to poverty.  Gaston decided he would not let that happen, and he knew exactly how.

 

            He hopped off the wagon to the dismay and groan of LeFou.  He ignored the whispered admiration that he himself attracted and raced toward Belle.  It was difficult to get to her.  The carts were rolling out with fresh produce, and every mother jockeyed for the best products at the lowest prices.  Gaston never felt so nervous.  But then again, he had never seen another girl that was so obviously intelligent, so unique, and therefore so perceptive.  He had never been in love. 

           

            OK, Gaston, be cool, be professional, be smooth.  “HI Belle!” Gaston winced at the sound of his own excitement.  So much for that idea.

 

            Belle looked up from her book.  “Monsieur Gaston, how do you do?”  She then buried herself back into her story.

           

            How can this be?  She is not fazed by my fame at all.  No, she is playing hard to get.  No!  She is special because she can see past my fame. That’s why I love her…Gaston swallowed his pride and quickly stepped in front of her.  Again Belle looked up.  “Yes, Monsieur Gaston?”

 

            “Well, Belle, I was wondering exactly what you were doing?”

           

She made a face.  “Isn’t it obvious?  I’m reading a book.”

            A book!  My mom used to read me a book.  It was wonderful.  She knew all the best stories, and I always wanted to talk about them.  No one else read though.  I was hoping we could talk about our literary experiences at the tavern tonight…Gaston, however, did not say what he thought.  “Reading?  Why on earth would someone read?”  He grabbed the book from her hand, playfully pretending to be perplexed.  “Why would you read something with no pictures?”

           

Belle was not amused.  She snatched back the book.  “Monsieur, it was nice to meet you, but I must go.”  She abruptly changed directions away from Gaston.  His eyes followed her.  Though his heart was working overtime, he could not move.  Why isn’t she falling for me?  The one girl I finally want to meet, and she is not interested.  What are you talking about, Gaston? Pull yourself together and show her Gaston the Kind!   

 

            “WAIT!”  Belle impatiently turned around.  Her eyes belied an annoyed feeling, expecting nothing but trouble.  Belle, you are so beautiful, as beautiful as the meandering geese soaring against the backdrop the starry sky.  What’s more, I love your independence.  I love your strong will, and I love you.  Gaston hesitated.  He never in his twenty one years of life had to deal with a difficult woman.  He wished LeFou was here to give him the confidence he needed.  “Belle… I… you… you are beautiful, as beautiful as a, uh, me…”

 

            “AS YOU?”

 

            “..andering geese…Huh?  No, no, not as beautiful as me, but as…meandering geese.  Belle, I love you.”

 

            “Monsieur Gaston, I had quite enough of your antics.  It is quite clear you do not love me but only yourself.  And if it is not already apparent in your oafish adolescent mind, I am not like those three blonde girls who entertained you at the fair.  Pardon, and good day!”  Belle again turned away from him and walked away.

 

            Gaston could not believe he was losing this much control of the situation.  The new sensation brought a heightened sense panic.  He did not have much else to lose… “Belle!  Marry me!”

 

            She stopped dead in her tracks.  Gaston smiled.  Finally.  “Belle, you are beautiful, more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.” Gaston winced again.  Don’t talk about other women!  “Be my wife.  I love you.  We can settle down, in this town, near your father even.  I’ll get a respectable job, and I can provide for you.  We can watch over your father together.  I hear he’s a crazy loon.”  Uh oh…wrong words…

 

            “Gaston, you are a BOORISH, BRAINLESS…pardon.   Monsieur, I guarantee it, I will not be your little wife.  No sir, not me.  I want much more than this provincial life.  I want adventure.  I want more than I can tell.  And for once it might be grand, to, to have someone understand.  I want more than what you got planned.”   She stormed off. 

 

            Gaston was heartbroken.  He spent the rest of the day in a dazed stupor.  He hardly noticed that LeFou had joined him again.  He hardly noticed Jean Paul’s endless gratitude.  He hardly noticed the beaming women.   When night had set, Gaston went to the tavern, determined to drink his pain away.  LeFou tried to cheer him up, but Gaston would not hear any of it.

 

            “Gaston, it hurts me to see you so down.  I mean c’mon, one girl does not change anything.”

 

            “Belle changes EVERYTHING.  LeFou, I’ve been denied by the one girl of my dreams.  How can I face the world?  How can I live?”


            “Gaston, look at you.  So the weirdo girl doesn’t love you.  It doesn’t change the fact that no one hunts like Gaston.  No one fights like Gaston.  Every girl wants you, and every guy wants to be you!”

 

            Gaston laughed bitterly.  How could LeFou understand him?  The pain he felt was more than just a broken heart (and that was bad enough.)  Gaston had finally found someone who saw through his fame, and it wasn’t pretty.  What did Belle call him?  Boorish and brainless. And she implied I was conceited.  Gaston couldn’t decide if it hurt more to have his heart ripped out or to realize his character was so detestable. 

 

His drunken state lasted only night, but his depression remained for months.  Something clicked in Gaston.  He suddenly became more daring.  He ventured deeper into the Forest.  He hunted bigger game.  He goaded packs of wolves to fight with his bare hands.  Stories of his latest exploit spread like wildfire across the countryside.  He won the adoration and admiration of all, but it did not fill the empty void Belle left in his heart.  Gaston simply stopped caring about living, but he was too good a hunter to die, no matter how deep he ventured into the Forest.  Gaston had in fact stumbled upon the gates of the Castle in one of his mindless hunts.  He stared at it for many hours, wishing that it would grant him a curse as well.  However, he did not enter.  He would return, better prepared to fight this mystical Beast.  Surely, if he killed the Beast, the fame would set him for life.  If not, death would not be so bad. 

 

            In all of those months of daring hunts, Gaston not once thought about Belle.  It pained him too much.  He didn’t even notice that both she and her father had been missing for months as well…

 

Part III