by Lila Lacroix
I got dressed as well, and half an hour later Philippe and I were sitting in a nice little crêperie, where I ordered a monster crepe with hot fudge, vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. For someone who hadn’t eaten in ages, the meal was heaven. I dug in, and Philippe looked at me, amused.
“You have some whipped cream on your nose,” he told me when I came up for air. Blushing, I realized what a fool I must have looked and apologized.
“No, don’t worry, you did say you were starving. Plus, I wouldn’t dare get in between you and your plate right now!” he joked, and I threw a napkin at him.
As our meal continued we spoke about other things, for which I was thankful. I didn’t want to think about Jacques, and for the first time since the incident, I didn’t.
“Hey, Sophie, I was thinking after this we could go to the Musée d’Orsay and see the impressionist works there. What do you think?”
“Don’t you have class today?”
Philippe shrugged.
“Yes, but what is a single day of class? Right now, my priority is you. One day of work won’t make or break my ability to become a doctor. Hopefully the art will help get your mind off other things.”
“Alright then. Are you asking me out on a date?”
“I certainly am.”
“Then I accept,” I replied with a smile as I took another bite of my crepe.
“What if the police come after you?” I asked as we walked along the street after breakfast towards the RER station.
“I doubt they will. I covered my tracks well. I didn’t take the metro, and I mainly took side streets where there will not be many cameras. Besides, I made sure my face was covered.”
“But wouldn’t they know, with the spray painted “rapist” you left on the sidewalk, to look for you?”
“I doubt it. After all, they didn’t even take a report when Stephanie went to them. They would have no way of finding her, and that was years ago now. As far as they are concerned there would be no reason for me to go after him now.”
“Ok. Well, just so you know, if the police ask me where you were when the attack happened, I will tell them you were with me.”
Philippe stopped and looked at me.
“You don’t need to do that, Sophie. Lying to the police is a crime, I do not want you implicated in something I have done.”
“You did this for me. The least I can do is help cover your tracks. I will tell the police you were with me if they ask, and if they find that I lied, then I will live with the consequences. But you have an alibi from me.”
Philippe suddenly took me into his arms. I closed my eyes as I breathed in, the light musk of his scent driving me wild as we stood in the middle of the street, Philippe holding me close.
“I love you, Sophie. I really love you,” he whispered to me as he grabbed me, as though for dear life.
“I love you too, Philippe,” I whispered.
We were pretty much at the station and took the stairs underground. Swiping our cards, Philippe and I joined the commuting crowds on the train and made our way to the museum.
These sorts of outings were the sort of thing I was getting used to doing with Philippe.
“You know, I can’t really see myself visiting museums without you anymore. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone else about these things,” I told him as we got our tickets and went in.
“Is this your way of telling me we’re dating now?” Philippe asked me.
“I don’t know... are we?”
“That was my way of asking you. Since neither of us know, why don’t we settle in the middle on ‘yes’?”
I laughed and put my arm inside of Philippe’s as he opened the map of the museum for us to pore over.
“Yes sounds good. It’s funny, I came to France to avoid a failed relationship, to get over my old boyfriend. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t go near men at all. And then...”
I trailed off for a minute, and I felt Philippe’s hand land on my own.
“And then I got a sexy new French boyfriend, all to myself,” I finally replied.
I had decided that morning that wasn’t going to let what Jacques did to me break me. Philippe had done so much for me, I decided it was time for me to do something for myself as well. As hard as it was going to be, I was going to move on with my life and do my best to be strong.
“You’re amazing, Sophie. You’re absolutely amazing.”
“I’m really not, but thank you.”
We made our way through the museum, which was thankfully, on a weekday morning, not incredibly busy. I had felt a little bit of a panic rise up in my throat when we were in the crowd on the train, but I had forced it back. I couldn’t help but wonder what if Jacques was in that crowd, wanting to get revenge. I told myself he was in the hospital, there was nothing he could do to me now, and I calmed down.
Passing slowly through the museum with Philippe helped as well. We went past a number of those Classical Greek statues I loved so much before moving onto the paintings. The museum had an incredible collection of French Impressionist art, which quickly became my favourite style of paining. Some of the reliefs were enormous, much bigger than I could fathom.
“I love how some of the scenes, while different, are still so similar to what we today do. The fashion is different, of course, but look at the scene in the park. There are lovers holding hands, kids playing in the water. It shows that even though over a hundred years have passed since these scenes existed, people are still the same,” I noted to Philippe as we gazed at the Renoir painting of young people at a ball in the outdoors.
“Yes, no matter how modern we think we are, how differently we perceive those who came before us, in reality we’re not all that different.”
“So we’re really dating now, aren’t we?”
“I guess we are.”
“You know, Philippe, I’m really glad. I knew the instant I saw you there was something about you, and now I know I’m in love with you.”
“I had the exact same feeling, and I now have the exact same feeling.”
As Philippe and I wandered through the museum, I couldn’t help but think to myself just how happy I was. Despite everything that had happened to me, and the fact that I often had to force the bad thoughts and the memories out of my head, Philippe just made me so incredibly happy that it surpassed every other emotion I felt.
Chapter Sixteen
As winter definitely turned into spring, the love between Philippe and I blossomed along with the spring flowers. The day after our excursion to the Musée d’Orsay, I met up with Noelle and Claire after class and gushed to them about the fact that Philippe and I were dating.
“He’s so hot, you’re so lucky Sophie!” Noelle gushed when I told them. I was always amazed by the fact that even in a city like Paris, with over twice the population of San Francisco, all of the students at our university seemed to know each other.
“Is he good in bed?” Claire asked, and I laughed.
“I don’t know yet, we haven’t gone that far.”
“Well what are you waiting for? No better time than the present.”
“We’re waiting, we don’t want to rush things,” I replied. After all, it was the truth. I didn’t tell them about Jacques. I couldn’t. Philippe was the only person I entrusted with that secret.
I was getting better at dealing with the pain of what Jacques had done to me as well. For the first few weeks I would check the news almost religiously to see if he was released from hospital. I’m not sure why I did. Maybe I just hoped that the longer he was in the hospital, the more he was suffering. I certainly hoped so, anyway.
Eventually, however, I stopped. The nightmares were becoming less and less frequent as well. I would still wake Philippe in the middle of the night at least once a week, but it was an improvement on the first few nights when I would wake up screaming at least once every night.
Philippe and I decided we wanted to share the same bed, although we never did anything m
ore than kissing. Philippe was staying true to his promise to give me time, and I began to realize that it was a good idea. As more time passed, the more I realized that despite my desires, it probably had been a good idea to let my pain heal before Philippe and I went all the way.
A week after the incident I went with Noelle to play soccer with her rag tag group of friends that all played in the park twice a week.
“Come, it is spring now, we can play again. You will be on our team, at least until you go back to America,” Noelle practically ordered. I had never played sports before in my life, but that only encouraged Noelle further when I alerted her of that fact.
“Then now is the perfect time to learn. Come on, it is not competitive.”
Eventually I relented. After all, this trip was supposed to be about new experiences, and if that involved spending my Tuesday nights and Saturday afternoon on a wet, muddy grass field kicking a ball around, well so be it.
That first night, I actually found myself enjoying it. I mostly hung out the back and let the guys do most of the playing, but from time to time the ball came to me, and I did my best to kick it back to someone on my team.
Then when we were finished, everyone on our team congratulating each other as we all dove for the box of orange slices someone had brought, in the middle of the celebration Noelle came up behind me and grabbed me by the shoulders.
The feeling of a strange hand on my freaked me out completely, and I screamed and turned around to fight. After a second I realized it was Noelle, I realized what I’d just done, and that everyone else was staring at us.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry Noelle, you just scared me!” I exclaimed, trying to laugh it off. Luckily, Noelle believed that’s all it was, and everyone joined in as they all gently made fun of me for being so scared of Noelle.
But I knew, I knew the fear that I felt when she touched me. I knew where I had felt that fear before, and what it reminded me of. People touching me set off the memories inside of me, set off my fight-or-flight instinct.
It happened one or two more times, and I got the reputation of being “jumpy”, and people very quickly learned that it wasn’t a good idea to surprise me with a huge from behind or a tap on the shoulder.
The only person who didn’t set it off was Philippe. He was the only person who could touch me, and rather than be scared, I felt comforted. I felt desire. I felt like I was wanted, and I needed him. I loved how our relationship progressed. Even though exams were coming up, we always made sure to make time for each other. We would go out for a picnic in one of Paris’ beautiful parks. Once Philippe brought a bottle of wine, and I explained to him the story of my childhood.
“Oh, when you said you did not drink at the party, I did not realize that meant wine as well. In France, even the people who do not drink will usually drink wine, and I did not even think that in America things might be different. In that case, we do not drink the wine,” Philippe announced. “Stay here, I will be back.”
When Philippe came back ten minutes later, I laughed. He had gotten rid of the wine (“I gave it to a couple in the street that looked very much in love”) and had replaced it instead with milkshakes. I loved his thoughtfulness. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him as we enjoyed our meal. The milkshake was the best part of it all. It symbolized just how much he cared.
A few weeks later, Philippe told me he was inviting his sister over for dinner.
“I think you and Stephanie would get along really well,” he told me.
“That sounds great. I’d like to meet her,” I replied.
“Do you mind if I mention Jacques? I don’t know if it will come up, but if it does I would like to come clean with her that I told you about him.”
“Yes, that’s fine.” I actually thought maybe it would be good to have another woman who knew what I had gone through, even if she was a complete stranger.
She came the following evening. Stephanie resembled her brother quite a bit: although her wavy black hair was longer, reaching down to her shoulders, her dark eyes matched her brother’s perfectly. Her mouth was more feminine, and I had to admit, that family had some amazing genes. Stephanie was gorgeous, in the same way as I found her brother sexier than anyone else on the planet.
“Hi, Stephanie, it’s nice to meet you. Philippe has told me a lot about you.”
“And you as well, Sophie. It is nice to finally meet the girl who has captured his heart.”
“So what was it like, growing up with a brother like Philippe?”
“Well, we grew up in a small village a few hours away. Everyone knew everyone. It was funny, being the older sister I understood a lot more of what was happening than Philippe did. You wouldn’t believe it, but all of the women of the village spent their time trying to get Philippe to hang out with their daughters.”
I laughed. I could definitely believe it.
“Yes, I can see that.”
“The thing is, Philippe hated it. So the more he was invited to girls’ birthday parties and the like, the more he would rebel. Then one day he took his bike out and went with his friends to a construction site. They would jump off the concrete, that sort of thing. At one point Philippe went off a jump wrong and landed on the top of Mrs. Marchand’s car, which dented the top of the car and left a trail of mud all the way down the hood and windshield. After that, the women of the village stopped hounding Philippe.”
“Wow, so he was really a bad boy growing up,” I teased while Philippe grinned at us from the kitchen. I couldn’t help but notice a tinge of color having reached his cheeks, and I grinned to myself. I had never actually seen Philippe embarrassed before, but his sister’s stories of their childhood definitely seemed to do so.
“Oh, he was a bad boy. That’s why our parents sent us away as soon as they could. I was a good girl, but they sent me with him to Paris to keep an eye on him,” she teased.
“And what a brilliant job you did. Look at me now, I’m the perfect gentleman,” Philippe replied, bringing us some mini quiches as an appetizer.
“So how did you and Philippe meet, anyway?”
“I was in Versailles, and so was Philippe. He saw me, came up to me and said hi,” I replied. I looked at Philippe, not sure if I was supposed to mention that bastard’s name. I figured I would let Philippe do it.
“Oh, he must have fallen in love with you. Normally Philippe is the shyest man in Paris.”
“Well actually, Stephanie,” Philippe started, and I think Stephanie noticed the change in Philippe’s tone, “I had basically no choice. She was with Jacques Laflamme. I actually went up to warn her about him, although I didn’t break your promise.”
Stephanie looked at Philippe with hard eyes.
“So that connard, he is at is again,” Stephanie said quietly. Philippe nodded. She turned to me.
“Did he get to you too?” she asked, and I nodded.
“Yes. It was about a month ago. I was so stupid, so naive.”
“I know. He did the same thing to me as well. I ask myself every night if there wasn’t something I could have done differently, if I should have picked up on the clues, if I should have realized what was coming.”
“Me too. I go over it in my head, wondering what would have happened if I did things differently.”
“I told Sophie what happened to you after I found out he did the same thing to her. I was going to tell her before, when I spotted one of the warning signs, but it was too late. I’m sorry Stephanie, I know I broke your trust.”
“No, it’s fine, Philippe. I think I would have liked to know when it happened to me if there had been others.”
“Regardless, he won’t be doing it again, ever.”
Stephanie looked at him sharply.
“You mean the fire? The one that was about a month ago?”
“So it was. A good coincidence, that.”
“I hope that’s all it was.”
I looked between the two. Philippe had the face of a choir boy on, he wasn’t going to
admit to anything.
“Sophie, if you ever want to talk, I’m happy to listen,” Stephanie told me when she turned away from Philippe.
“Thanks, Stephanie. Your brother has been incredible as well.”
“Yes, he’s a good man. But what are your plans for staying together after your semester ends and you need to go back to America?”
Philippe and I glanced at each other. We hadn’t really spoken about it at all. Honestly, I was kind of pushing the thought away whenever it came up. I didn’t want to think about having to go back to America without Philippe, but I knew there was no way I could stay in France.
“I’m not sure. I’m staying for a couple of months after the semester ends on a tourist visa, but then, we haven’t really spoken about what’s going to happen.”
“Oh, well you still have a few months to figure that out.”
As we spoke about it, I realized that there weren’t really that many months to go before I had to leave.
“I guess so, we’ll figure something out anyways. Love always finds a way, doesn’t it?” I asked, looking at Philippe, who smiled at me.
“Absolutely. I can’t imagine my life without you Sophie, and will do everything we can to make sure that we can be together forever.”
“You two are perfect for each other. Absolutely perfect. Makes me happy to see my little brother having found someone like you Sophie.”
“Now you’re making me blush,” I exclaimed, feeling a little bit embarrassed, but happy. I had never really felt like I had a family, and seeing Philippe and Stephanie together was the first time that I really managed to experience what I always imagined having a family would be like.
Just then, the main meal that Philippe had been cooking was finished. He took it out from the oven and served it to much fanfare, the chicken and pan juices done in such a typically French style with potatoes and Brussels sprouts on the side were absolutely delicious.
“I don’t want to leave France, if it means having to leave this food. Maybe I’ll just overstay my visa forever, living here is an illegal immigrant,” I joked.
“Well, to be fair, Philippe has always been the best in the family at cooking,” Stephanie told me.
