In the next couple of days, things were rather rough for both of the lovers. True to his biting words, Damian sent a farewell note to Chloe’s room, delivered with the same kind of clean, prompt and dedicated fashion that he seemed to like so much by none other than the doorman Richmond. He looked a bit regretful when he delivered the letter, but other than the hint of pity in his eyes, he showed no other signs of recognizing what was going on. In some ways, Chloe was actually grateful for that- she did not wish to be the center of attention when she was in such an awkward position. But on the other hand, some kind words can take a person rather far, and this was exactly what she had been lacking all the way from the very beginning of her story in Paris.
The following day after the party, Chloe awoke with a throbbing headache, one she had never been able to even imagine up until that point. She had rolled out of her bed, wondering how she had even arrived there, and then began rummaging in her purse for a painkiller. It was at this very moment that Richmond had knocked to bring her Damian’s note, and then, once she had finally deciphered what was written (her headache was preventing her from being able to make out Damian’s furious scrawl), her mood grew even worse, if that were possible.
That day, as well as the next, which was Sunday, Chloe spent locked away in her room. She was unable to think clearly due to her migraine, and could only recognize one thing- she was kicked out of Damian’s company, and would never again be able to return. The entire weekend was spent in a rapid-fire mental debate of weather she was disappointed or actually happy about that. By the time Monday rolled around, she had gotten nowhere with this inner battle and could only locate one authentic, though still a hard to identify feeling within her being. And that feeling, she was nearly positive by the time she arrived at her first class, had to be a mixture of guilt and regret and embarrassment.
Renaldo also did not fare well. As soon as the report was made to boss Durand, who did not delay much in screaming his head off, Renaldo was forthwith left without a job and without a life. After all, this restaurant job had been his life. Or at the very least, a major part of it. Since he was ten, he had worked at this restaurant, taking orders from the inexplicably irate manager Durand and working as hard as he could manage to keep his job.
It may be questionable as to why he had worked so hard. But in truth there were several aspects to the explanation of this seemingly rather pointless and menial task. First, Renaldo originated from a very, very poor family. Perhaps he did not live on the streets quite yet, but the description of where he did live was not far from that of a narrow, dusty, winding alley. His father was not present, and that left his mother to care for a collection of five ravenous children, each of whom was too young to perform any high-payable task. With desperation, Renaldo’s mother had searched for a way to support her kids, but she simply could not afford to leave alone her newborn in order to work at some thrift store selling who knows what and making the minimal wage. She had no education, and no diploma. Her only option was to try to find a better home for her kids, if just one at a time.
The first to go had been Renaldo’s older sister Marilyn. His mother found a woman to take her into her home and teach her how to sew custom-made pillow cases and other crafty home-made goods. At first this made family matters go a bit smoother. Renaldo’s mother did not need to worry about her daughter, as she knew the woman well and was certain that Marilyn would be in good hands. But after only a few months, economy issues rose up once again, and the mother no longer could feed the remaining 4 mouths of the family, along with her own. Next had to be Renaldo himself, as second oldest. Unfortunately, there were not a lot of people willing to accept a boy of ten into their lives, and the mother found only one option: Maison de la Bête.
With a bit of time, Renaldo was able to make enough money as a waiter to afford a small room for himself. However, that was all that the Lilliputian pay would allow him to do. He discovered rather shortly that no matter what he did or how hard he tried, the restaurant’s owner, and, lower along the line of authority, the restaurant’s manager, would never increase his salary. Hope had always kept him positioned in this ungrateful business; still a youth, he thought perhaps with time he would strike lucky with his unpleasant employers. But once he got past this kind of fruitless hope, he became fearful. He had never had any other job and had no experience in anything other than helping prepare and then serving food. After such a long time, he no longer felt comfortable anywhere outside of this world of constant prep work and food odors. He began to doubt that he could ever work elsewhere. And this sent him and his spirits plummeting down, causing him to mess up a lot more frequently than before. His mistakes grew worse and worse as his self-confidence went down, and this posed more and more opportunity for his merciless boss to yell and threaten. Renaldo’s life had become a vicious cycle within the past year, and now, with one last soulful kiss, he had ended it.