“She’s had a mad crush on Sal since forever.” I put on the kettle for tea. “Is there something different in here?” The kitchen felt emptier, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
She didn’t answer. “Want some tea and cinnamon toast?” Cinnamon toast is the one thing Mum does really well; she doesn’t skimp on the butter, or the sugar.
“Yes, please.”
When we were done with our snack, I took Templeton out for a walk to the park. Lloyd and Viktor were on their favorite bench. “Hey, I heard about Sal,” said Lloyd. “Heard you saved his life.”
“How did you—”
“Word travels fast around the Market,” said Viktor. “I like that guy. We always shoot the breeze when he comes in to get his cheese.”
“He brings me his old New Yorker magazines,” said Lloyd. “We discuss the articles.”
I hadn’t known Sal did that. Come to think of it, I had no idea how Sal spent his days while I was at school, which made me feel like a crap friend.
“How’s he doing?” asked Viktor.
“Pretty good, I think. I saw him this morning.”
Lloyd leaned forward. “Will you give him our best?”
“Of course.”
“You’re a hero, man,” said Lloyd.
“No. I’m really not.”
When I got home, Mup was in the kitchen, too; Mum was still working on her chair, and Mup was starting dinner. “Wil, come sit,” said Mum. She took an envelope out of the bib pocket of her overalls and sat down with me at the table.
“What’s this?”
“Open it and find out.”
It was a check.
For five hundred dollars.
“Whoa. We can’t afford this—”
“We can. I sold a bunch of my cookie jars on Etsy,” said Mum. “It’s amazing what collectors will pay.”
I looked up. That’s what was different. Her entire collection was gone. The owl, the mushroom, the smiley face, the Santa Claus, the sneaker, the carousel, all of them—gone. “But you love those cookie jars.”
“Between you and the cookie jars? Not much of a contest.”
Then all three of us got weepy again, because we felt sad and relieved and happy all at once. Mum broke into a rousing rendition of “Family Is Family” by Kacey Musgraves, and Mup and I joined in.
The next day I gave Mr. P my final payment.
About a week later I left for the airport, to fly to the city of Paris, in the country of France, on the continent of Europe, on the planet called Earth.
My bags are packed
And so is my heart
Don’t know what lies ahead
But I’m ready to start
From “Anyone’s Guess” by Wilbur Nuñez-Knopf
The Mumps drove me to the airport. I wore a pair of Sal’s pants and one of his suit jackets over the dark green sweater Fab had chosen for me. He was right—it really was my color. The jacket still smelled a bit like Sal; a combination of old books and spices. It made me feel warm and safe.
He was still in the hospital, but he seemed a little bit stronger every day, and the doctors said he should be able to go home soon. “Remember what I said to you before,” he said to me during our last visit, “Whatever happens with Charlie: Have fun. Take in the beauty of the city. Stuff yourself full of croissants and pastries. Be open to new experiences.” I vowed to take my best friend’s words to heart.
Templeton sat on my lap in the back seat. “If you need to express his anal sacs,” I said, “use a lot of Vaseline. And squeeze gently. Gently—”
“We’ve got it covered, pickle,” said Mup.
“Passport?” Mum asked as we pulled up outside International Departures.
“Check.”
“Instruments?”
“Check.”
“Credit card in case of emergencies, travel insurance card, a raincoat, money belt, first aid kit, Gravol for motion sickness, TUMS for the rich French food, melatonin to help you with jet lag, Handi Wipes, clean underpants—”
“Norah,” said Mup.
“It’s all good, Mum.”
We got my stuff out of the trunk. The two of them enveloped me in a hug. I towered over both of them. “You have a magnificent trip, dear sweet boy,” said Mup. She was holding it together better than Mum.
Mum handed me a homemade cloth bag. “A care package for you. You can open it on the plane. And this is a little something for Charlie and her dad.” She took a box out of her purse and opened it: inside were two small ceramic beavers, one with an S on its back, and one with P. “A very Canadian salt-and-pepper-shaker set.”
“They’ll love it.” Both of them moved in for another hug. I finally had to wriggle free. “I have to meet the others inside.” I kissed them both, told them I loved them, and walked into the airport, pulling my battered plaid suitcase with the wonky wheel behind me.
* * *
—
Once we’d all made it safely through security and to our gate, Mr. Papadopoulos stood on a chair to address us. He was a ball of nerves. “As the Trudeau-Manias, we represent our school. I expect you to be on your best behavior at all times. Especially around Geneviève—Mademoiselle Lefèvre.” An airport employee came by and told him to get down off the seats. He did as he was told. “Does this shirt go with these pants?” he asked Fabrizio. He’d gone for a rather bold floral pattern that hugged his chest and torso.
“You’re making a statement,” said Fab, which was not exactly a compliment, but Mr. P beamed. I noticed he’d lost the goatee.
Tyler was nearby, talking to Olivia the oboist and periodically checking himself out in the window’s reflection behind her like the narcissist he was. Seeing him still made my stomach twist into a pretzel. But with everything that had happened, the twisting didn’t feel quite so intense.
I was half-excited, half-nervous when we boarded the massive Boeing 777. I’d only been on an airplane once, when we’d flown to Toronto from Vancouver, and I’d gotten motion sickness and had to use the barf bag. When I told Alex and Fabrizio this, they insisted I take the aisle seat. I sat down. My knees practically touched my face.
We lifted off. I watched an old movie called Snakes on a Plane, which was probably not the best choice. But I didn’t feel sick, not even a bit.
After they’d served our meal and the trays were collected, the lights were dimmed so people could sleep. Alex and Fab pulled a blanket over themselves, but they sure as heck didn’t sleep. So I picked up my pack and moved farther back, claiming an empty row to myself.
I remembered the care package Mum had given me, and I pulled it out. Inside were some rock-hard spelt cookies, a small tube of hand sanitizer, a package of tissues—and an accordion strip of condoms. She’d stuck a Post-it Note on them: Peanut, in my opinion you are still far too young to have sex, but it is always better to be prepared! And remember: ENTHUSIASTIC CONSENT! I appreciated the thought. At the bottom of the bag was a wrapped gift, with another note from Mum: Found this last week at a garage sale. You’ll look like a true Parisian!
I opened it up; it was a slightly used red beret.
I went to the bathroom and tried it on. I set it at a jaunty angle. It did look rather good on me if I do say so myself.
When I got back to my seat, I slid the beret into my bag. I turned out my light, popped in some earplugs, pulled on my eye mask, and closed my eyes.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Wank.”
I pulled up my mask. Tyler stood over me. He spoke quietly, so only I would hear. “You’ve been working hard, haven’t you?” I said nothing. “Ever heard the expression You can’t polish a turd?”
“Yup,” I said. “It’s what the doctor said to your parents when you were born.” Zing! I had no idea where that had come from; I usually only thought of good comeback
s hours after I needed them.
“It’s cute, in a way. All this work, hoping it might give you a shot with Charlie. But it won’t help. She’s seriously hot for me.”
“Liar. She doesn’t even like you.”
He grinned. “Oh, Wank. I don’t like her, either. She talks too much. She’s not even that good-looking, to be honest. Her eyes are too small, and her hips are too wide. But I’m not after her heart.” A wave of rage pulsed through my veins. I leapt to my feet. My head whacked the overhead bin.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has put on the seatbelt sign as we’re going through an area of turbulence,” said a flight attendant on the overhead speakers. “Please return to your seats immediately and fasten your seatbelts. We’re in for a bumpy night.”
Tyler shot me one last smirk before heading back to his seat.
I fastened my seatbelt. Anger still coursed through my body, along with familiar bad thoughts about myself. I closed my eyes and repeated my mantra over and over again in an attempt to make the bad thoughts go away. “I love you. You are an incredible person. You are a winner!”
I kept repeating it until the man across the aisle implored me to shut up so he could sleep.
April 7
Dear Sal,
Well, I’m doing as you asked, and writing you a real, honest-to-goodness letter. How are you, BFF? Do you feel well? Is Ruth Gimbel still making you crazy? Do the twins still visit you? Is Mum bringing you spelt cookies, and do you try to hide them under your mattress?
It’s three o’clock in the morning over here and I’m wide awake, but only because of the time change. So instead of staring at the ceiling and waiting to fall back to sleep, I decided I should tell you all about my first day here in Paris.
Charlie and the others met us at the airport, and Sal, the moment I laid eyes on her, all my feelings just came flooding back. She gave me a massive hug. And of course she immediately asked about you. She loves you almost as much as I do!
We took a train into Paris, and Sal, get this: Charlie kept staring at me. Then she said, “You look different. Less like Napoleon Dynamite and more like…hmm, Justin Timberlake.” If you don’t know who JT is, look him up right now! It’s high praise! Then she grabbed my arm and squeezed and said, “Wilbur, you have muscles!”
The French students live in different areas of the city, or arrondissements, which I guess you already know about. Alex and Fab are staying in an area called Belleville. Charlie lives in an area called Le Marais. I had to lug my suitcase up the stairs at her Métro stop, because there are no escalators. We came out onto a busy Paris street. It was raining, and I was fuzzy with jet lag, so the truth is I didn’t notice much of our surroundings as we walked to Charlie’s apartment; everything just looked wet and gray.
We walked down some narrow streets and then Charlie stopped outside an old wooden door that was painted bright blue. It had a big brass knob in the center that was shaped like a lion’s head. She punched in a code and the door clicked open. We entered into a courtyard paved with cobblestones. Charlie said bonjour to an older woman who was watering some plants. Charlie told me that Madame Da Silva is the “Concierge,” which is sort of like being a building superintendent—but again, I guess you know that already, since you and Irma were here so many times!
We headed through another door, and the two of us squeezed into a teensy and ancient elevator, which was suspended in a mesh cage in the middle of a winding staircase. It barely fit the two of us and my suitcase. The good news is, I didn’t feel freaked out because we only had to go up a few floors. I was practically nose-to-nose with Charlie so I tried not to breathe out since I knew my breath must be seriously rank from the plane.
Charlie’s apartment is on the fourth and top floor, and Sal, it is so cool. It has high ceilings and crown moldings and they even have a cherub painted on the ceiling! The living room has hardwood floors and built-in bookshelves covering one whole wall. You can throw open the windows to look down to the street below. Even though it’s an old building, they have a modern (but tiny) kitchen and a modern (but tiny) bathroom. Weird thing: there are two toilets side by side in the bathroom. One looks normal and the other one looks like a toilet without a seat. It’s a mystery.
I also met Minouche, Charlie’s tortoiseshell cat. She’s very haughty and completely adorable—but don’t tell Templeton I said so!
I have my own room, which used to belong to Charlie’s au pair. It’s tiny but perfect, with a narrow bed and a little desk and a chair. My window overlooks the courtyard.
After I unpacked and had a shower, Charlie gave me some lunch. At first I thought she’d cut the cheese—and she had, but literally, ha-ha! The cheese she served was super-stinky! I was afraid to eat it in case it tasted like farts too, but then I remembered that you told me to be open to new experiences, so I tasted it and WOW, I have never eaten such good cheese—or should I say, fromage—in my life!
After that I lay down for five minutes, but I must have fallen asleep, because next thing I knew Charlie shook me awake two hours later! It was time to meet up with the others. Mum gave me a red beret as a gift, so I put it on, but Charlie took one look at it and said, “NON.” Actually, she pulled it off my head and flung it across the room, which felt a tad unnecessary. (Please don’t tell Mum.)
It had stopped raining, and the sun was out. Charlie and I walked down the narrow streets, and it was like I was seeing everything with new eyes. We passed a small area of Jewish delis and Arab kebab shops, and I thought of you, Sal, because, well, you’re Jewish, but also because I am sure you and Irma have walked on the same streets. We passed shops selling clothing and fancy stationery and pens, and the most mouthwatering boulangeries and pâtisseries. It’s like every shop has been art-designed! Charlie told me that Le Marais means “the marsh,” and you can get a sense of what Paris must have looked like long ago, because in the 1800s, Napoleon III had most of the old city destroyed and replaced with wide boulevards and modern apartments. Le Marais was the only neighborhood he didn’t touch, because only poor people lived there, and Napoleon III didn’t care about them. But I guess you know this, too.
We crossed two bridges to get from the Right Bank to the Left Bank of the Seine. As far as my eyes could see I was looking at majestic old buildings. We stopped at a memorial that was erected for the Jewish children who’d been handed over to the Nazis by the Vichy government and murdered in concentration camps. Charlie told me that beauty and tragedy walk hand in hand in Paris.
We met the others for a boat tour on the Seine. Oh, Sal, it was incredible. We went past Hôtel de Ville, the Louvre, the Musée d’Orsay, the Grand Palais…then we rounded a small bend and there it was, the Eiffel Tower! I don’t know how to describe the feeling of happiness that welled up inside me. I see why you and Irma kept coming back here. I didn’t even care when Tyler sat on the other side of Charlie and tried to talk to her; I was too busy staring at all the other beauty around me.
When we got back to the apartment, Charlie’s dad was there. He is SO intimidating, Sal! He’s short and handsome with a lot of wavy dark hair and piercing eyes. He was wearing a tweed jacket over a rumpled shirt and jeans—he looked, well, like a famous French intellectual! He made us omelets with asparagus and goat cheese for supper. It was the best omelet I have ever tasted.
Monsieur Bourget, or Guillaume, as he asked me to call him (he keeps having to remind me it is not pronounced “Gwillum” but “Geeyome,” hard G), didn’t ask me any intellectual questions, PHEW. After dinner he put on the TV and we watched an interview he’d done for the late edition of the news. “I am talking about the latest ‘scandale’ involving one of our French politicians,” he explained. I didn’t understand a word, but I watched to be polite. He put Minouche on his lap and talked to her in a baby voice, which was funny because his voice on TV is very deep and authoritative.
I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, but I woke four hours later. Now it’s four a.m. and I’m starting to feel sleepy again, so I’ll sign off now and try to get back to sleep.
It’s wonderful to be here, Sal. You are right—it is a tremendous thing! I will keep you posted, on everything. Thank you again for all your help and for convincing me to go. I love you, Sal, and I think about you all the time, hoping you are doing well.
Your BFF,
Wilbur
PS: I almost forgot, please tell the Mumps I gave Guillaume their gift of the beaver salt-and-pepper set. I told him the beaver was Canada’s national animal. He said, “Ce sont les choses les plus laides que j’ai jamais vues.” Which Charlie told me meant “This is the loveliest gift I have ever received.”
Paris
Foreign, fascinating
Cafés, cigarettes, baguettes
Everywhere steeped in history
City of love
a cinquain by Wilbur Nuñez-Knopf
I woke from a deep sleep to the sound of purring, and paws kneading my hair. When I opened my eyes, I was staring straight into Minouche’s green ones. “Bonjour!” said Charlie from the doorway. “I sent in Minouche to wake you, because she does it so gently.”
Sunlight streamed through the window. “What time is it?” I asked, groggy with sleep.
“Eight o’clock. We meet the others in one hour.”
I had a shower, which made me feel a bit less dopey. Breakfast was fresh croissants, jam, yogurt, and coffee. Never in my life have I tasted such good croissants.
When we were done eating, Charlie went to her room to change. Guillaume turned to me and said in a stern tone, “Wilbur, come with me, please.” He took me into the washroom and pointed at the second toilet. “You urinated in our bidet last night.”
Tremendous Things Page 14
