"Geoffrey, I'm so sorry about Felicia, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you," Francine Charbonneau said softly, and she gently laid her hand on her friend Geoffrey Darrell's arm. Geoffrey shrugged and looked at her, smiled faintly and then looked out the window. They were on the crowded number eight OC Transpo bus leaving downtown Ottawa, Ontario, for the nearby City of Gatineau, Quebec, on a rainy day in May...
Gatineau, a small town right there on the border between Ontario and Quebec, is considered one of the toughest spots on this side of North America. The kind of place that lots of 'good' Canadians turned their noses at. With an influx of Africans, Arabs, Asians and Latinos mingling with the traditional French Canadian and Aboriginals that made up the bulk of the population of Quebec, it was a melting pot and a powder keg all rolled into one. The place Geoffrey Darrell and Francine Charbonneau have called home for practically their entire lives...
"It's all good, Francine, I kind of saw it coming," Geoffrey said, and when Francine looked into his soulful brown eyes, there was a hollow, defeated look that haunted her. Geoffrey looked haggard, and she wasn't sure how to take it. Francine had known the six-foot-tall, burly and dark-skinned, Afro-sporting young Jamaican practically her whole life. Hell, they grew up together on Boulevard Labrosse, one of the City of Gatineau's most 'storied' neighborhoods.
"No offense, Geoffrey, but Felicia is a bitch, she doesn't deserve you," Francine said hotly, and Geoffrey bit his lip, and kind of nodded. Sporting his University of Ottawa Gee-Gee's sweatshirt and a pair of blue jeans, Geoffrey was just coming back from a long shift at the local Loblaw's, and he was tired as can be. Those ten-hour shifts were killer, and Francine, his friend and former co-worker, definitely knew it...
"The signs were all there, I should have known," Geoffrey whispered, shaking his head morosely, and Francine leaned closer, straining to hear him. Francine licked her lips, unsure what to say. Geoffrey had always been there for her, always protecting her from bozos and now that he needed her help, Francine was at a loss for words. Geoffrey had always been there for her, like a rock. Seeing him so rattled hurt Francine to her core...
Born in the City of Gatineau to a French Canadian mother, Annette Bineau, and Arthur Charbonneau, an Aboriginal father originally from the Ojibwe First Nation, Francine Charbonneau grew up with a foot in each world. For Francine was considered too pale for the Natives and too dark for the whites, or something to that effect. Five feet five inches tall, sharp-featured and curvy, with long black hair, light bronze skin and light brown eyes, the exotically beautiful young woman was often mistaken for various other ethnicities.
"I'm half Native and half white," Francine Charbonneau always told both casual acquaintances and strangers when they inquired about her ethnicity. Francine was so used to being asked about her origins that she didn't know what to make of Geoffrey Darnell and his parents, Nicolas and Yvette Darrell when they moved to Gatineau, Quebec, from the island of Jamaica. They didn't speak French, spoke English with an odd accent, and kept to themselves.