The Cheese King

It had been three months now, three months since Sean came to Fources. A small town in France with avid grass fields and stone houses and a sense of serenity in the air.

Born and raised in in Atlanta, Sean had come to pursue a course in wine making from a local institute in Fources. The institute was small, but had earned its name as one of the top schools to learn the craft and made the finest delights in the country, and probably the world, the institute’s morals forbade its commercialization. Although, tasting tours were always welcome.

After searching for days, Sean thought found it suitable to live as a paying guest at a countryside home with the house owner. He had agreed to give him the room for a substantial amount. It was not the most lavish room, but with all the basic amenities and a few more-than-basic ones, it would suffice. Besides, a young boy and small cat did not much space.

At twenty-one, Sean had a boyish structure. With an average height and lean muscle, he could easily pass as a fresher at the university. Meika, his cat, with a plush fur of grey and white, was a tiny maine coon. She would hunt for mice through the fields in the day and sup on milk and fish at dusk.

Josue Jaree, the owner of the house was a fat man with bubbly features. He was not essentially short, but his body structure made him look so. He had a receding hairline, thin eyebrows, and a distant pair of eyes that were nothing if not amiable. With his simple dressing he always wore a black flatcap. He spent his mornings milking his three cows and sold off the milk by midday. Then he checked on the crops in his small farm. Post which, he slept. In the evenings, he went to the cathedral in the centre and returned after a drink, or more.

The house had two rooms that had beds, but at nights, only Sean’s room was occupied, the fat man under the influence of fermented grape juice slept either on the floor of the dining area, or somedays when he got lucky, he would find his way to the old grey couch in the living area. Josue’s bed seldom had the pleasure of his owner sleeping on it. Wherever he slept, he had his music player by his side, and jazz classics playing in the background as he slept.

Amongst all other sources of entertainment in the town, the Mariac jazz festival was much anticipated throughout the year. Legendary musicians performed there each year.

“You join me at concert today, le garçon,” Josue insisted. Sean had never seen him so excited. He would have chosen to stay back and do his research, but he did not want to kill Josue’s excitement.

“I will, Mr Josue. Does the festival have a dress code?”

“No. Wear good clothes but, there is cute les filles at concert.” Josue patted Sean on his

back.

Josue was not the best English speaker, but his old teacher had given him a few English books and the rest came from TV. In the start, Sean found it amusingly peculiar, and difficult to comprehend at times, although, now he understood most of it.

It was not essentially hot at the time, so Josue donned a grey shirt with sleeves rolled, blue denims, and black shoes. On the other hand, Josue dressed in his best attire. Tailored blue trousers that were a bit tight for him, a black pea coat over a whit cotton shirt, and a simple black and white striped scarf. Nevertheless, his black flat cap went with the attire.

The festival was nothing like the concerts in America that Sean had been to. It was a splendid gala, and although he was no expert at jazz, the music was transcending. Josue knew most tunes and air-played them all on a saxophone or piano, all the while cheering and giggling like a little kid. After the concert when they both returned home, Meika came and played around Sean’s leg.

Josue asked Sean to join him at the porch for some wine. Meika slept almost all day, and was in a lively spirit. The porch was simple, made of painted white wood, two small wooden chairs, and large one for Josue himself, a coffee table. On the top were two hanging lights, and a few plants near the entrance. Josue took one of the small chairs near the table, Josue his chair, and on the third small chair, Meika sat snugly.

“Your country is beautiful.” Sean gazed at the fields illuminated by the light of moon and a million stars.

“Oui, the country is very beautiful. You don’t like it in America when you go.”

Meika moved her ears every now and then to grasp the words, as if to take a mental note of things.

Josue poured wine for both of them. Sean took a sip, it was richer than the batch he made at the school recently.

“What you do after the course, Seaun?” Josue often pronounced his name incorrectly, but he found it rather amusing.

“I aspire to open a big winery, the biggest in America. With the finest wines of authentic nature.”

“So, you sell our secret for big money?”

“No. I merely want to give your finest delights to the world, all I yearn for is the technique.”

“You dream big dreams, garcon.” Josue almost finished his wine.

“We should dream big and work hard, my mama told me. Even you would have a dream, Mr Josue.”

“Dream! I did. I do have dream. But they break.” Josue’s eyes became wet as he looked at fields and took a sip. “It was my everything. I woke up in day for it and at night dreamt of it.”

“I do not understand, Mr Josue.”

“A small wooden house. A small jazz room in it. And Angela.” A tear rolled from his fat cheek this time.

And suddenly, Sean found himself thinking about Jane. Her last kiss when she came to see him off at the airport. How the tears had rolled from her eyes. He thought about the choice he had to make.

“Her big eyes and pink face.” The fat man went on. “She was my dream.”

“Where is she now?”

“In a distant land. With another man. I left everything for Angela, and Angela left me for everything.”

Sean went to rub his hand on Josue’s back as he sobbed. “What did you leave, Mr Josue, if I may ask?”

“You know Andre’s Blue?” Josue rubbed his eyes, his vision blurring. He removed his wallet from his pocket and searched for something.

“The cheese?” Sean wondered why he asked about cheese all of a sudden.

“Oui! Andre Jaree of Andre’s Blue, my father,” he pointed at the tiny monochrome picture.

“I left family legacy. I could have been the Mr Jaree, but I wanted her to be Mrs Jaree.”

Sean was startled. He gazed at the picture. A young clean-shaven man stood in the picture, lean, strong of jaw, his lush hair flew. He wore white shirt, black tie and black trousers, and he smiled, he smiled like there was no tomorrow. Alongside him, stood an old man with a grey moustache in a formal black suit. The old man had a pipe in his mouth, his one arm around the young man’s shoulder, he seemed to be amused by something and laughed with his eyes almost closed. There were any similar about the old man and the young one in the picture, except for their smile.

“That is Old Mr Jaree, the cheese king.”

“Men called him that in his time.”

“Why would leave his legacy, money, all the luxuries, and the Jaree name? For this old stone house in this small town?”

“Money be no good, not do luxuries. It was love I sought.”

“But you could have lived a lavish life. Maybe you would have found someone else who would love you. Love you more, maybe.”

“The heart don’t understand that. My head and heart battled against one another. My heart won and smashed the head. And I ended up in this stone house, with a jardin of shattered dreams.”

Those were the last words Josue said before he dozed, with dried tears on his cheek. Sean sat there, looking at the fields and thinking what the fat man had said. Suddenly, he felt something moving near his leg. Meika called for him and looked at him with tiny eyes that seemed almost watery.