That Night In Paris

by Sandy Barker

  “Dani?” She looked at Lou. “I know we don’t live in the same cities or anything, but we’re your friends now. And that’s a promise. You need me—us …” She looked at me for confirmation and I squeezed Dani’s shoulder. “… We’re here for you. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She’d lost a bit of her steam.

  “And Jaelee too,” added Lou.

  “Oh.” Dani seemed uncomfortable.

  “Hey, are things all right between you and Jae?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I guess. It’s just, I felt kinda dumb telling her about all this. It’s like, so minor and—”

  “No way. This is not minor. I swear, if my sister pulled something like this, I would have her guts for garters.”

  Dani’s eyed widened and she started laughing. “What expression is that?” she asked through her laugh.

  “You haven’t heard that one?”

  “No.” Still laughing.

  “Well, I think it’s Australian. Could be English. Anyway, it means—”

  “Oh, no, I get what it means. I am totally stealing it.” She started to get up. “Oh, crap, my foot’s gone to sleep.” She sat down heavily on the bed next to me, spilling some of her wine on the carpet. She handed the glass to me and started massaging her right foot. I put her glass on the bedside table.

  “I’m going to have to go to bed too.” She shook her foot and tested standing on it. She would have to limp, but she was only going next door. She leant down and gave me a hug. “Thank you.” Then Lou. “You too. I’m glad I could talk about it.”

  “Sure,” said Lou patting her on the back like she was a colicky baby.

  “Okay.” She straightened up and hobbled to the door. “See you in the morning.”

  “Night.”

  “Goodnight.”

  When the door closed and she was out of earshot, Lou turned to me and said, “I hope I never meet that Nathalie girl. I don’t think I could stop myself from smacking her one.” Mama Lou was one formidable chick.

  ***

  I woke with a surprisingly clear head around seven, and the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Dani’s unfinished wine. The second was the letter. Lou was still sleeping when I propped myself up against the bedhead and picked up the letter. Without waking her, I took it out and unfolded it. I took my time, reading between the lines like Jean-Luc, a boy with a crush, would have done.

  Only it wasn’t a crush. He had loved me.

  And I had loved him. It was there on the page.

  Cosy in my hotel bed, I was awash with fondness for nineteen-year-old Cat—Catey. She was funny and self-deprecating, hopeful and loving. She wasn’t yet broken. I refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope, then got out of bed and tucked it safely into my messenger bag.

  As we drove out of the charming German burg an hour later, I was a little regretful that my entire experience of Germany had boiled down to lots of wine and a decent bed. And yes, the landscape was nice, but after Switzerland, I wondered if any other scenery could ever elicit more than a shoulder shrug, perhaps another way I was ruined for life.

  Germany

  It was a straight shot between Koblenz and Amsterdam, and a relatively short drive, compared to others we’d had. And at least Amsterdam gave me something to look forward to.

  I’d seen enough photos to know it would be picturesque and I knew it had incredible galleries. I really wanted to go to the Van Gogh museum. My sister was obsessed with him, especially Sunflowers, and her obsession had rubbed off on me a bit. It would be nice to go, so I could tell her about it. Apparently, they had built a whole new wing since she’d last been.

  And, of course, the further we travelled north-west, the more distance there was between me and Jean-Luc.

  ***

  Hours later, after we’d crossed another border and the landscape flattened, I poked around in my heart to see if I still felt anything for Scott, the ghost of boyfriend past.

  After conjuring his face, or at least a blurry facsimile, after dipping into a catalogue of Kodak moments and epic fights, and dredging through the minutiae of our five-year relationship, I realised I felt nothing. Finally.

  He’d been an insecure kid when we’d had that massive fight about Jean-Luc. How could I be angry at him? He was doing what he thought he should to show how much he loved me, that I belonged to him.

  What we think love is when we’re young, I mused.

  It could be sweet and honest and real, or completely screwed up and possessive, like with Scott. Possession wasn’t love. And making one person the centre of your entire world, forcing them to leave everyone else behind and be everything to you, that wasn’t love either.

  For years, I thought I had loved Scott and that he had loved me, but in that moment, I knew I’d been wrong. Scott and I had been two drowning people clinging to each other. It was not love.

  Love lifted you up. Love made you hopeful of the future, and brave enough to face whatever life threw at you. It made you laugh and feel and want and be—be yourself. I had a lot of love in my life—Sarah, my parents, my new friends, Mich. I wasn’t afraid of those relationships, of being vulnerable, of being myself. I’d jumped right in with the girls. In less than two weeks they’d seen me at my worst many times over. And it was fine. I loved them and they loved me.

  So why was I walking away from something with Jean-Luc? What the hell was wrong with me? And then it hit me.

  I was walking away because I was a stupid bloody idiot.

  “Lou.” She had nodded off and I shook her awake.

  She woke with a start. “Mmm. What, sorry.” She blinked a few times. “What’s up?”

  “I have to go to Paris.”

  “I’m not following, sorry.”

  “I … I’m stupid and I need to go to Paris.”

  She shook her head, like someone in a cartoon would. “Okay. You are not stupid—”

  “Don’t counsel me right now. I have been inordinately stupid. I mean, Lou, seriously, Jean-Luc. Did you see him?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I saw him. He’s, uh, very, uh …”

  “Exactly, and him being super hot is the worst thing about him. I mean, he’s kind and he’s thoughtful, and he’s so smart, Lou—even when we were kids—and he’s …” Tears prickled my eyes.

  “He’s such a good man, and I am such a stupid idiot.” The tears turned to sobs and Lou patted my knee, a concerned look on her face. “I need to go to Paris,” I managed to say through the tears. “I have to tell him.”

  “Okay, okay, just shush.” I sniffed loudly and fished in my bag for a tissue. Lou tapped on the seat in front of her and Dani poked her face between the two seats.

  “Hey, what’s up?” She took headphones out of her ears.

  “Is Jaelee awake?” asked Lou.

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “Wake her, then come back here.”

  I was trying to get my sobs under control and failing miserably. I am not usually much of a crier—I was unpractised, which may have been why I’d gone from zero to sixty in three-point-two seconds.

  It only took a couple of moments before Dani and Jaelee were crouched down in the aisle next to Lou. “Cat, are you okay?” Dani’s concern set me off again. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  Lou adopted her calm, soothing tone. “Cat has realised that she needs to go to Paris.”

  “For Jean-Luc?” Even through my tears I thought it was a dumb question.

  “Of course for him,” said Jae, rolling her eyes.

  Dani did her delighted little clap and grinned at me, then frowned when she saw my expression.

  “So, why the tears?” asked Dani.

  “Yeah, shouldn’t you be happy?” added Jae.

  I nodded. “Yes, but I am so stupid. How could I have been so stupid all these years?” I hiccupped a little and Lou tipped me gently forward and started rubbing my back, all while cooing that I wasn’t stupid. It didn’t help.

  “Okay, so what?” said Jae. “We’ve al
l done it—all of us have done stupid things when it comes to love. I mean, look at me. At least you know he wants you. He’s not with anyone else. He wants you. Okay?”

  I nodded, then snuffled up some snot. Dani’s nose crinkled in disgust. “Sorry.” I wiped my nose roughly with a sodden wad of tissue.

  Right as I was starting to calm down and breathe normally, a hideous thought popped in my head. I looked at my friends, stricken. “But what if I completely cocked it up? What if I hurt him too much—again—and he doesn’t want me anymore?” The sobs started again.

  Dani looked on helpless. Lou intensified the back rubbing and I had to shrug her off. Jaelee spoke, her firm voice cutting through my mini meltdown. “Stop that.” I took a sharp intake of breath. “Stop with the wallowing. You do not want to show up in Paris all tear-stained and puffy.”

  Those were the magic words. The sobs stopped, and I stared at her wide-eyed, waiting for the next instruction. This must have been what it felt like for toddlers after the trance of a tantrum.

  Jae stood up. “Can’t crouch down anymore. Right, so it’s Friday. You have to be back at work on Monday, I assume?” I nodded. Lou handed me some fresh tissues and I wiped tears and snot from my face, all while transfixed on Jaelee in “fix-it” mode. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Dani and I will look for flights to get you from Amsterdam to Paris. Give me your credit card.”

  I rummaged in my bag, then handed it to her. “When we get to the hotel in Amsterdam, you’ll go tell Georgina that you’re leaving the tour, then fix yourself up. You are a hot mess right now.” I wasn’t even offended. “Then we’ll get you to the airport—Uber or a train or something. Okay?”

  I nodded, numb, and gave the details over to my friends. All I had to focus on was getting a grip and working out what I wanted to say to Jean-Luc when I saw him. I figured that, “Hey, you know all the stuff I said about love? I was wrong. I think I love you. Let’s get married and have lots of babies,” wouldn’t be quite right.

  ***

  We were due to get into Amsterdam around noon and the flight Dani and Jaelee found on Air France flew out at four. It was going to be a tight turnaround, but by the time we arrived at the hotel, the plan was etched in exquisite detail and we were all systems go.

  We got our room assignment—dormitory-style, one room for the four of us and a bathroom down the hall. As soon as we unlocked the door, I was sent to take a shower and conduct a quick but thorough upkeep of my lady parts. By the time I got back to the room, someone had been through my luggage and had laid out one of my unworn dresses, and the only matching set of bra and knickers I’d packed. Thank goodness they were clean.

  “Who—?”

  “Who do you think?” Jaelee rolled her eyes at me. “Unless you want to borrow something of mine?”

  I looked at the tastefully low-cut dress, blue with bell-shaped sleeves, a nipped-in waist, and embroidered flowers on the hem. It was one of my favourite dresses—I’d been saving it for the final night of the tour—and it was perfect. I smiled. “No, I love it.” I felt a little like Cinderella getting ready for the ball when I stepped into the dress and Lou zipped it up.

  Jaelee brought out her curling wand and gave me some structured curls rather than my usual beachy waves, and Dani offered to do her signature eyeliner on me with its precise little flicks. I added some blush, some mascara and cherry-red sheer lip gloss—even though it would be hours until I saw Jean-Luc and I’d have to reapply it about fifty times.

  I stood in front of my girl posse and held out my arms, so they could admire me. “Well?”

  Dani clapped and grinned, Lou looked like a proud mother, and Jae said, “Much better than you looked an hour ago.” I took that as the highest compliment.

  I looked at my watch. “What time did you book the Uber for, Dan?” She’d used the app on my phone. I didn’t want anyone else to foot the bill for my grand romantic gesture.

  “Two o’clock.”

  “All right, I need to go find Georgina. Oh, and pack all this up.”

  “I’ll do that,” said Lou, as she gathered up my things.

  “Oh, Lou, thank you.” I will not cry. I will not cry. I will see Lou again.

  I was rooted to the spot, looking at my three friends. I would miss out on spending the next couple of days with them and it sucked.

  “Go!” Jaelee shooed me out the door.

  I climbed six flights of stairs to the fourth floor of the hotel where the Ventureseek crew had the penthouse apartment. When I knocked on the door, I waited for what felt like a long time. No answer. Hmm. I knocked again, louder this time, and when the door opened my mouth fell open.

  Tom. With no shirt on.

  “Oh, hey. Uh, can I do something for you?”

  “Yes, actually, I just wanted a quick word with Georgina—if she’s here.”

  He scratched his belly and I looked away. I wanted to think of Tom as the capable, clean-cut guy who drove us around Europe, not this sloppily attractive guy who was obviously having the rest of the day off.

  “Uh, yeah. Hang tight, I’ll get her.” I waited in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on the crew’s private space. I couldn’t imagine having to be “on” twenty-four-seven, always polished and professional. It was hard enough having to do that as a teacher eight hours a day, five days a week.

  Georgina emerged from what I assumed was a bedroom, and Tom gave me a salute. I lifted a hand in response.

  “Hi, Catherine,” she said, her voice as weary as she looked.

  “Hi!” Dial it down a bit, Cat. “Um, I just wanted to let you know I’ve had a change of plans, and I’m actually flying to Paris this afternoon.” She stared at me blankly, then blinked. “I’m leaving the tour.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and, to my horror, started to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said several times, and I got a glimpse of how I must have looked to my friends that morning. I cringed inwardly. Outwardly, I patted her on the arm and did what Lou would have done. I made shushing noises and said, “There, there.” Eventually, she got a hold of herself.

  “Georgina, what’s going on?” I seriously doubted she’d miss me so much as to induce tears.

  I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she was deciding whether to confide in me, but I was genuinely concerned. “Is there somewhere we can talk?” I asked. She nodded numbly, then turned and led the way through the penthouse. It was quite nice compared to the rest of the tour accommodation. She opened the door I’d seen her come out of and I followed her inside.

  She sat down on the bed and I stayed standing. “What’s going on?”

  “This is my first tour.”

  “What? Really?” She nodded again. “But it’s October. Doesn’t your season start in April or something?”

  “March, actually, but right after the training trip, my dad got really sick.”

  “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” A quick nod acknowledged my sympathy.

  “Anyway, I flew back home to Perth so I could be with him, and I only just made it. He died a couple of days later. It was all so quick, you know?” I didn’t, but I nodded. “And Mum was just bereft. I had to stay, at least for a little while, to help her get things sorted out, you know, with the house and all Dad’s things. And it’s just me. I’m an only child.” Oh, you poor woman.

  “Ventureseek was great about it. They said I could defer for a year, but I wanted to come back. Mum seemed a bit better and my auntie said she’d be around for her. So, I took this tour.”

  “And you’ve done a great job.”

  She looked up from her hands. Her look said, “Don’t bullshit me.”

  “You have. If you hadn’t told me this was your first tour, I would never have known. No one else knows.” She still looked dubious. “Really. It’s a small coach. News travels fast. I would have heard something.” Her face softened a little.

  “I feel like I keep screwing things up and that no one likes me.”

  “We like you,” I lie
d. Blatantly. To her face.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You and Tom have gone out of your way for us, and you know, my sister used to be a tour manager and she’d come back from tours shattered.” Maybe it was better not to harp on that in a pep talk. I changed tack. “Anyway, what I mean is, it’s a hard job, but you are doing great.”

  I hoped I’d convinced her. I’d given more than my share of pep talks in my eleven years as a teacher, but she wasn’t a teenaged girl who didn’t know what course to do at uni. A weak smile alighted on her face, and I was relieved.

  “Thank you. It’s just been so much more than I ever expected, you know?”

  “For sure.” Another lie, but I could imagine.

  “And I am shattered. And this is one of the shortest tours. What’s gonna happen when they give me a longer one? If they do?”

  “What do you mean, ‘if’?”

  “Well, I need to get good feedback, or they’ll make me defer until next season.”

  “Oh, right, of course. Look, I’m sure it will be fine. Should I be filling in a form or something?”

  “Oh, yes, right, you’re leaving today.” She ferreted about in her day pack, pulled out a stack of printed sheets and handed me one.

  “Great. I’ll fill it in and give it to Lou to give to you. Is there anything else I need to do, officially, to leave the tour, I mean?”

  “No. All good.”

  “Georgina, look, I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t doing a good job.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t you—”

  “Well, we both know that’s a lie. Maybe not just me, but I am sorry.” I reached over and gave her a hug. “And I’m really sorry about your dad.” I pulled away. “Bollocks,” I said, thinking of the time. “I really need to go.”

  She smiled through her tears. “Is it the guy from Rome?”

  “What? Oh. Yes, actually, it is.”

  “Good. Good for you.” She added a nod to her smile.

  I left her in her room and crossed back through the living room. “Bye, Tom,” I called over my shoulder. I didn’t check to see if he’d heard me. I needed to get downstairs, complete the form and fill in the girls.