“Hello! Over here! Alanna, Vanessa, pay attention,” said Klassie. She was fanning herself with the date card, her hair slicked back and covered in a thick coat of pale hair dye. Tied around her neck like a bowtie were her new shoelaces, which she had yet to put in her combat boots.
She’d thought it amazing good fortune that the street vendor outside our building was randomly selling shoelaces and knockoff purses, the two things she had wanted to get while in Paris. The purse was a faux Louis Vuitton with about eight zippered pouches inside. Already two of the zippers had gotten stuck in the lining and Klassie was not pleased. The laces were magenta and shiny, made of fine, flossy bits of crispy tinsel. Alanna speculated that they were spray-painted strands of asbestos, and I think she may have been right.
“Ooh goody! A date card! I hope it’s for me me me,” said Deb. She tapped her fingertips together excitedly.
Klassie waited for Alanna and Vanessa to put down the magazine and then she ripped open the date card and cleared her throat: “Ahem, Deb, Join me for fun-filled day, and don’t forget to enjoy the view. ~ Bellamy.”
“Oh my goodness! It’s really for me! I’m just, so… flabbergasted. Really, can’t you tell? Look at me. I’m shaking,” said Deb. She held her hand out in front of her. It didn’t appear to be shaking, so she wiggled it just a little bit. “What am I going to wear? Can someone help me with my hair? Oh my God. This is so awesome. What do you think he could mean by don’t forget to enjoy the view? I suppose maybe we’re going some place high up?”
“You’re probably going to the Eiffel Tower,” said Alanna.
“Ooh, I’ve heard of that. So that is here, in Paris?” asked Deb.
“Yes,” said Alanna.
“Wow. Crazy. Of course it’s in Paris. How dopey of me. Yeah, I’ll bet that’s where we’re going. Okay. And then what do you think? What else is there to do here?”
“Lots of stuff,” said Alanna. She looked at me and made a small gesture of shooting herself in the head. Everyone had gotten over my crying attack in Venice and as far as I could tell, we were all friends again.
“Seriously, guys. I wonder what else we’re going to do,” said Deb. “I hope we’re not going to go out to eat anyplace. I hate all this foreign food. Honestly, I’d rather just pick up some granola bars at a gas station. Do you guys all like granola bars, or do you like cereal bars better? To me, cereal bars are almost like dessert. Granola bars are more like a main meal. What I really like are pretzel bars. My mom makes those homemade. You mix pretzels, marshmallows, and I think there is one other ingredient. They’re so good. And healthy. I think they’re totally fat free, except if you grease the pan. You’ve got to grease the pan. Or wait, wait, you could use wax paper. My mom is an excellent cook.”
“You’d better get ready,” said Vanessa. “Run along. I must get an outfit like this while we’re here,” she added, holding up the French Vogue to a page showing a model wearing a blue checked romper, sucking on a pacifier. Her hair was in piggy tails. It was completely inappropriate and bizarre.
“Seriously?” asked Deb. “You like that? I think it’s really cute too, but your clothes seem more serious than that. No offense.”
“None taken,” said Vanessa.
Deb went away and returned a moment later carrying two hangers. One held a very 1980’s inspired sundress covered in bright rainbows. I actually kind of loved it. The other hanger housed what looked like a blue velvet bathrobe. “Which one?” she asked us.
“Not that bathrobe,” I said.
“Is that a bathrobe?” asked Klassie.
“Yes, but it cost a lot of money, and I think when I belt it with a leather belt it brings it into daytime mode,” said Deb. “I wear it with brown leather boots, and I bring my vintage brown leather satchel, and it all works great.”
“Debbie, I had no idea you were so fashion forward,” said Alanna.
“Maybe to you guys I’m not, but I am very fashionable in Duluth. You could go so far as to call me edgy.”
“I guess we didn’t understand the whole vision, but now that you describe it, go with the bathrobe,” said Alanna.
“Yes, for sure. The bathrobe,” said Vanessa. She hadn’t even looked up from the magazine.
“Are you guys for serious?” asked Deb.
Klassie shrugged. “I’ve got to rinse my hair.” She skated away.
“Hmm,” I said. I shook my head a little. “The sundress is cute too. Maybe you should at least try it on for us. Keep in mind, they will be playing reruns of Bellamy’s Redemption until we’re super old, so a bad fashion choice could haunt you for a long time.”
“Emma, don’t rain on her parade,” said Alanna. “Debbie, wear the bathrobe. You’ll look great.”
“Just out of curiosity, what do you wear beneath it?” I asked.
“I brought some blue boy-short undies and a matching bra so if Bellamy sneaks a peek I’m all matchy matchy.”
“How risqué,” said Vanessa.
“Bath-robe, bath-robe, bath-robe,” chanted Alanna, pounding her hands on the coffee table.
“You talked me into it, Alanna. Be right back. Once you guys see me in it, you will love it.”
Alanna went out to our balcony and surveyed the city. “If I lean, like this, and then tilt my head, like this, I can see the Eiffel Tower,” she yelled.
“I think it’s really cheap of them to put us in a place where we can’t simply look at it,” said Vanessa. “I don’t want to hurt myself trying to catch a glimpse of it.”
“Vanessa, you’re so spoiled,” said Alanna. “I’m just happy to be in Paris again. It’s been practically a whole year since I’ve been here. A whole year!”
“Oh. No wonder you’re so excited. I was just here three months ago for a pediatric influenza conference. I’m here all the time. This is not the neighborhood I would stay in, if I had my choice, of course.”
“How do you find your way around? I don’t imagine you speak French. I do, you know. Since I’m Canadian,” said Alanna.
“Yes, I noticed you speaking it at the airport. It was a shame the man working there looked so confused and cut you off and started speaking to you in English. I’m sure he was just a little confused by your Canadian accent,” said Vanessa.
“He understood me perfectly. French is not my second language. I have two first languages. A concept you people from the States can’t comprehend. Don’t feel bad; it’s just a cultural difference. I think what happened with that guy at the airport is that he wanted a chance to practice his English. These Europeans are always trying to practice their English.”
“I know that,” said Vanessa. “Like I said, I’m here all the time.”
“Ta da!” said Deb, already dressed in the bathrobe. It billowed out over an old brown leather belt. Cowboy boots were on her feet. Her hair was in a side ponytail tied with a leather cord. She was carrying a brown bag that looked like it was from Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman. “How do I look?”
“Oh, Debbie,” said Alanna. “You’re a vision.”
“I told you guys that I know fashion! Vanessa, can I borrow that magazine?”
“Go for it,” said Vanessa, tossing it to her.
Deb sniffed through it, finally settling on a perfume sample on a pure white page. “Ooh, plain white. Boldly simple, like a snow princess,” she said.
“Those samples are full of carcinogens,” said Alanna. “That means they cause cancer.”
“That’s not true. They don’t really cause cancer,” said Vanessa.
“Even if it is the truth, I don’t care right now,” said Deb. “This date is way too important to worry about catching cancer.” She rubbed the page up and down her wrists. “This smells subtle, like how I want to be. It smells like a Parisian lady. A Parisian snow lady!” She rubbed it on her neck until her skin was flaming pink.
“I think that’s enough,” I told her.
“Today’s the day I’m going to tell him my secret,” she whispered, tossing the spent
page to the floor.
“What secret?” asked Vanessa.
“Well, I’m not sure I want to tell you guys before I tell him…”
“You can tell us, Debbie,” said Alanna.
“Great. Now I’m itchy. An itchy snow princess. Darn it! Am I still pink? Never mind, it will fade,” she said, examining her reflection in the cloudy antique mirror hanging on the wall.
“Debbie, tell us your secret,” Alanna pressed on.
“It’s really not that big of a deal. Have you guys told him your secrets yet?” asked Deb.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Before we came on here they said that it is good to share something big, like a big secret, with Bellamy. To open up to him, and to help us get bonded together. Didn’t they tell you this? Didn’t you guys prepare a secret?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Vanessa.
“I’m pretty sure this conversation happened,” said Deb. “Yeah, for sure, I remember it. We’re definitely supposed to have a secret. The producers told me this way back during interviews.”
“They never told me that,” I said.
“Come on you guys,” said Deb. “We’re all supposed to have a secret we unload on him. It’s supposed to help love grow. You guys better come up with one if you want him to fall in love with you.”
“We will,” said Alanna. “So tell us yours, Debbie.”
“Ugh. I’m not sure.”
“You don’t have to tell us,” I said.
“Just tell us,” said Vanessa.
“Tell us, Debbie,” said Alanna. She patted the sofa cushion beside her.
“Alright,” Deb said, settling in beside Alanna. “When I was nine my dad went away. I don’t know where he went. My mom said he was going to be gone for two to five years. I still don’t know what that was all about. Anyway, on my eleventh birthday I woke up and my mom wasn’t home either. My sister said my mom went to have a baby. The neighbor came and stayed with us. A few days later my mom came home with my little brother Soupie. Soupie doesn’t look anything like us and everyone got really, really mad. All our relatives. Everybody. I didn’t get why everyone would be mad about a baby. I thought people loved babies. When I got older, I figured out Soupie is not really my brother. But he is, but, I mean, he has a different dad from the rest of us.” Deb sighed.
“Let me get this straight. You didn’t know your mom was pregnant? Really?” asked Vanessa.
There was a long moment of silence. Finally Deb said, “I was eleven.”
“Exactly,” said Vanessa.
“Well, she’s kind of a husky lady. I never noticed she was getting bigger, and I don’t remember anyone saying anything about it…”
“Go on with the rest of your story,” said Alanna.
“You see, I realized one day, and I’m pretty sure I’m right about this, my mom had an affair when my dad was gone! It’s obvious, right?”
“Yes. Clearly,” said Alanna. “Let’s get some cigarettes. They’re so much better in France.”
“Ugh. An affair. Really? Ugh! Yep, I thought so,” said Deb.
“Is your dad back?” asked Vanessa.
“Yeah.”
“Do you know where he went?” asked Vanessa.
“I’m not really sure. On a trip, I guess.”
There was another long moment of silence. Alanna opened her mouth but I cut her off. “That’s great that your dad’s back from his trip. Are your parents still together?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s some secret,” said Alanna. She picked up the French Vogue and started thumbing through it. “Hey Bob,” she said to her favorite cameraman, “Do you like this perfume better, or this one?” She pressed the magazine into his face. He pointed to the first page she’d shown him. “Me too. Would you grab me another glass of champagne?” He happily obliged.
“I heard you can see the Eiffel Tower from here?” asked Klassie, skating out to us. Her hair was practically glowing.
“Klassie, that is intense,” said Vanessa.
“I nearly went blind from it,” said Klassie. “I got a little in my eye. I think I’m going to be fine though. I’ve been splashing water in my eye for fifteen minutes and I can see out of it again.”
“You can see it if you lean way to the left and look over your shoulder,” said Alanna.
“Cool,” said Klassie.
The next part happened in slow motion. I heard the scraping of skates across the floor, the sound of the balcony doors opening, Klassie saying, “Ooh! Now I see it,” a moment later, followed by a gasp and a scream.
We all rushed over, expecting to see her crumpled and oozing on the sidewalk. Instead, down below us, emerging from a heap of garbage in the back of a truck, was Klassie.
“I’m fine, I’m okay. Just got the wind knocked out of me,” she called up to us. She leaned over, huffing and puffing, holding her back.
“Oh my God,” said Alanna, sinking down to her knees.
“Don’t move, I’m coming down,” yelled Vanessa, springing into doctor mode. She expertly pulled back her hair and affixed it in place with a pencil, and ran out the door.
“No, stay there. All of you. Really, I’m okay. That awning broke my fall,” said Klassie, pointing up. “I bounced right off it. It could have been much worse. Really, I’m not even sore.”
Cameramen and producers were already on the scene, gathering all around her. Even the French people on the street looked interested in the spectacle. “Medic! Medic! Someone call an ambulance!” yelled my spa chaperone Irene to the crowd of café-goers and pedestrians.
“Irene’s back,” I said. “I love her new haircut. I wonder if she got it here in Paris.”
“No,” said Alanna, shaking her head with a disgusted look on her face. “There is no way that’s a genuine Paris haircut. Trust me.”
“Someone help us,” yelled cameraman Bob.
“God, can’t any of them speak French?” said Alanna. “Look at our crew down there, panicking. Wearing their stupid fanny packs and ironic t-shirts. They all look like they’re from Portland. I’m so embarrassed to even be associated with this clan of morons. I thought maybe Luca was smart, but no. Of course not. Seriously, you Americans are imbeciles.” She drew in a deep breath and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Appelez une ambulance,” she yelled down to the crowd, jumping up and down. She waved her hands. Next she whistled and did some Sasquatch whoops. “Up here! Look at me! Listen! Listen you idiots: Excusez-moi! Excusez-moi! Appelez une ambulance! Appelez une ambulance,” she yelled again. Everyone looked up at her. “Not for me! For her,” she said, pointing at Klassie.
“What’s that funny noise? ‘Rear-rear, rear-rear, rear-rear.’ What could it be?” asked Deb.
“It’s an ambulance, you ninny,” said Alanna. “It’s coming because I yelled for it. I can’t believe everyone else just stood there.”
“It’s coming because I told the guy at the front desk to call for help,” said Vanessa, reappearing in the doorway. “I’ve already been downstairs, saved Klassie’s life, and even picked up these.” She showed off a few postcards that were all black and said Paris by Night.
“I’m not a ninny. And that doesn’t sound like any ambulance I ever heard,” said Deb. “Oh. Oops. Yep, there it is. You’re right. I’m wrong. It’s an ambulance. I guess French ambulances sound different from American ambulances. Live and learn.”
Klassie waved at us. “I guess I have to go away for a little while,” she called. “See you soon. Have a good date, Deb. I think you should wear the sundress. Bye!” She gave us a shaky but heroic thumbs-up as they took her away on a stretcher.
“Was she serious?” asked Deb. “Doesn’t this robe look cool?”
“Very cool,” said Alanna.
“Well then, good. I’m wearing it and that’s that. Enough overthinking things, right?”
“Right,” said Alanna.
There was a knock at our door.
“I’ll
bet it’s him,” said Deb.
“I’ve got it,” said Vanessa. She flung it open and acted surprised to see Bellamy standing there. “Bellamy! What a wonderful treat! Are you here to see me?”
“Hi,” he said, nodding to Alanna and me. “Hi, Vanessa.” He gave her a hug. “I’m here for my date with Deb.”
“That’s still happening?”
“Sure.”
“Oh. I thought maybe since Klassie almost died you’d rather spend your date with me. I’m a doctor. I saved her life.”
“Huh. I didn’t hear about that. You’re kidding, right? So, anyhow, I’m here for my date with Deb.”
“Oh, yeah. That. Have a good time,” said Vanessa. She plunked back down on the sofa, picked up her postcards, and started filling them out.
“Are you ready?” Bellamy asked Deb, eyeing her robe.
“Yes sir! Am I ever! Shall we?” she asked.
“If you’re sure you’re ready,” he said. “I can wait if you need more time.”
“No sir. I’m all set,” she said, holding out her arm like a country gentleman. She tipped an imaginary five gallon hat with her fingertips and winked. “I guess the question is, are you ready?”
“Uh, sure I’m ready,” he said, taking her arm. “Bye,” he said to the rest of us. I waved. Alanna and Vanessa ignored him.
“You smell so good. What kind of aftershave are you wearing? Is it Old Leather like my grandpa wears?” we heard Deb whisper to him on their way out the door. Alanna made a quiet retching sound without looking up from The Paris Museum Lover’s Guidebook. As soon as they were gone, Vanessa threw her pen and postcards to the floor and Alanna tossed her book over the balcony.
“Careful with that,” I said.
“Let’s have some fun,” said Alanna.
“Okay,” I said. “But they aren’t going to let us leave our hotel, of course. Should we play a card game? Or do our nails?”
“We’re in Paris! I refuse to stay inside. Let’s get out of here,” said Vanessa.
“Can we?” I asked, looking helplessly at the producers and cameramen.
Bellamy's Redemption Page 24
