“Yeah.”
“Whatever will you say on it? Dearest Oscar, hope hospital is okay, I’m busy living it up in Paris, kisses!” Ashley asked sarcastically.
“I thought it might be a nice gesture. He’s always said that Paris is somewhere he’d want to visit.”
“So you thought you’d rub it in his face that you’re there while he’s in the hospital?” Ashley was being harsh but honest, a quality Alex had always admired in her friend; few people had the strength of character to do it.
“I suppose you’re right,” Alex conceded, aware that the approach to the tunnel was drawing ever closer.
“Besides, it’s a man-free vacation, remember?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I was thinking we could visit the Moulin Rouge,” Ashley buzzed excitedly. “Apparently it’s like a burlesque show now or something.”
“Sounds… classy.” Alex struggled to find the right word to use.
“Don’t judge!” Ashley scrunched her nose in disapproval. “Burlesque can be extremely classy; it’s an ancient art form.”
“If you say so.”
“Alex, don’t be such a prude!”
“Is this your not-so-subtle way of telling me that you no longer wish to be president, that instead you feel destined to live the life of an exotic dancer?” Alex teased.
“That’s exactly what this is,” Ashley entertained the joke, smiling cheekily. “And my stage name shall be Regretta.”
“Because you’re so full of regret?”
“Exactly!” Ashley laughed.
“And what would my stage name be?”
“Prudella,” Ashley declared, sticking her tongue out.
“Regretta and Prudella, doesn’t really sound that sexy. Shouldn’t we be car names or something?”
“Like Prius and Bentley?” Ashley arched an eyebrow in confusion.
“Maybe exotic dancing isn’t going to be our forte,” Alex concluded, pretending to be sad.
“Oh well,” Ashley said flippantly, “least we’ve got our Princeton degrees to fall back on!”
Ashley seemed more relaxed, so Alex returned to her book. Though her decision to use Oscar to distract her friend had backfired, and now Alex was once more thinking about him, once more feeling as though she was covered in the thick mire of guilt, unable to shake it off. It felt like it tainted everything she touched, refusing to leave, determined to leave its indelible mark on all that she experienced.
And each time Alex thought of Oscar, she thought of Mark. She wondered how he would be spending his summer vacation. Would he stay in Woodsdale; go back home up North? She didn’t know, but a part of her was desperate to find out. She’d consider messaging him but decided against it. It just didn’t seem a fair thing to do when Oscar was still in the hospital, licking his self-inflicted wounds.
Getting a book out of her designer satchel, Ashley also began reading her book of French phrases. She wanted to try to partake in the culture as much as possible.
“Will you try frog’s legs?” she asked aloud as she scanned through the phrases.
“No.” Alex shook her head but didn’t look up from her own book. “Will you?”
“Urgh, no.” Ashley shivered with revulsion. “Same goes for snails,” she added.
“What about a baguette? That’s French.”
“Baguette is fine.” Ashley nodded approvingly.
She continued to browse through her book, focusing on phrases she thought might come in handy but struggled to pronounce any of them correctly. Giving up, she glanced at Alex’s book.
“What are you reading?”
Alex flipped the book up to reveal the cover. She was reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo.
“Isn’t that a Disney movie?” Ashley asked, confused.
“Yes, but first it was a classic piece of French literature,” Alex explained.
“Are you reading it in French?” Ashley queried in awed disbelief.
“God, no.” Alex laughed. “It’s been translated into English.”
“You’re really getting into the spirit,” Ashley complimented her friend.
“Here, why don’t you read a great French novel,” Alex said, delving into her duffel bag and pulling out a battered paperback. She tossed it across the table to Ashley, who picked it up carefully and scowled at the cover.
“Les Miserables,” she mouthed the title aloud. “Isn’t that the musical?”
“It was a book first.”
“Oh.”
Ashley felt slightly embarrassed at her lack of knowledge about classic literature. She opened the book and was relieved to see that it had also been translated into English.
“You know a lot about books these days,” Ashley noted.
“Mmm, well, it was Oscar who told me to read these,” Alex admitted, her face saddened upon bringing him to the surface once more.
“He studied English Literature,” she added by way of further explanation.
“You know what? That’s it!” Ashley raised her hand so that the palm was facing Alex. “I’ve had enough of hearing Oscar’s name and seeing your face fall to the floor each time you think of him! This ends now! I shall be right back!”
Fuelled by angry determination, Ashley pulled herself out of her seat and stormed off purposefully down the main aisle and out of the carriage, leaving Alex looking after her, bewildered about where her friend could have gone.
Ten minutes later Ashley returned, clutching a bottle of champagne and two plastic flute glasses. She proudly placed the bottle on the table and smiled at Alex.
“Now this is a much more fun way of embracing the French culture!” she declared, picking the bottle up once more to remove its cork.
“Is that where you went, to get champagne?”
“Don’t sound so surprised!” Ashley smirked. “Champagne, I believe, is named after the region in France where it is produced.”
“Very good.” Alex smiled.
“So let’s down this essence of France, stop thinking about you-know-who, and start having a good time!”
Ashley poured the bubbling pale liquid into the two glasses and raised a toast with her friend.
“To our trip!”
“To our trip!” Alex concurred.
As they each drank down the soft bubbles, the green of the countryside began to fall away as they approached the entrance to the tunnel. The bottle of champagne was half-consumed as the train passed beneath the ocean and crossed over into France.
****
Alex awoke with a start as the train jolted suddenly. Shaking her head and trying to gather her senses, she realized it was now dark outside, the interior of the train dimly lit as other passengers also slept. In the center of the table the empty bottle of champagne lay on its side, the plastic glasses nowhere to be seen.
Rubbing her eyes, Alex groaned. How long had she been asleep? She couldn’t even remember going through the tunnel. She looked outside the window but saw only darkness. It was difficult to tell exactly where they were.
Across from her, Ashley was fast asleep, bunched up against her designer satchel, which she’d made into a makeshift pillow. Her hair was matted wildly against her head, and her mouth hung open as she let out soft, contented snores.
Stretching, Alex tried to wake up. She imagined that they couldn’t be far now from their stop. As if on cue, a conductor entered the carriage, dressed in a smart navy uniform. Loudly he declared that the next stop would be Paris. Other passengers began to stir and wake upon hearing the news.
“Ashley.,” Alex kicked her friend beneath the table. She grunted but did not waken.
“Ashley!” Alex said more loudly, kicking again slightly harder. Ashley spluttered and then coughed before slowly opening her eyes. She looked at Alex in confusion and then turned to look around the carriage.
“Have we been asleep?” she asked, her voice groggy.
“Yes, for quite a while.” Alex yawned sleepily.
�
�Did we go through the tunnel?”
“Yes.”
“And we survived?” Ashley’s eyes widened with awe, and Alex realized that her friend was probably still drunk.
Deciding to tidy up, Alex reached forward for the empty bottle but instead made a clumsy pass close by it and sent it clattering across the table. Sighing, she realized that it was not only Ashley who was still feeling the effects of the champagne.
“I feel like crap,” Ashley moaned, attempting to straighten her hair as best she could. Then she noticed the empty bottle and began laughing.
“Did we drink the whole thing?” she asked Alex, her voice small.
“Well, someone did.” Alex coughed. Her head was starting to throb.
“And you think it was us?” Ashley pressed, the liquor clouding her judgement.
“I’m pretty sure it was us.” Alex managed to smile.
“Where are we?”
“We’re nearly in Paris,” Alex updated her friend.
“We are!” Ashley beamed, immediately looking out of the window, but unable to see anything through the darkness.
But from Alex’s vantage point, she could make out the lights of the city in the distance, lights that they were fast approaching.
“Look there,” she instructed Ashley, who turned her head so that she could see.
“Is that Paris?”
“I think so.”
“Eee, I’m so excited!” Ashley buzzed. “We are going to see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and the Moulin Rouge!”
“Yeah, it will be amazing,” Alex agreed, her own sense of excitement growing within her, increasing with each thrust of the train as they edged closer to the city famously associated with romance.
“I’m so glad we did this,” Ashley declared, her drunkenness bringing on a bout of sincerity.
“Me too,” Alex agreed.
“I’m serious, Alex! There is no one I’d rather be here with, seeing these sights for the first time! And we will remember this trip for the rest of our lives!”
“I know.” Alex smiled.
“Like, we’ll be telling our children and our children’s children about it all,” Ashley continued.
“Will we tell them about the time we went through the Channel Tunnel?” Alex asked jokingly.
“I’d tell them I was too drunk to remember that!” Ashley laughed a little too eagerly, but so did Alex.
As the train finally came to a standstill in Paris, both girls were in fits of giggles, laughing merrily in their shared moment.
****
Alex tilted her head to the left and squinted at the picture that was behind a pane of bulletproof glass.
“It’s so small,” she declared.
“Mmm,” Ashley agreed, glancing at the long line to get close to the picture. “I’m not sure it’s worth the wait to see.”
“For some reason I always thought that the Mona Lisa would be… bigger.”
“Me too!” Ashley enthused, her voice rising slightly, which caused some nearby art enthusiasts to scowl at her in annoyance.
“Everyone here is so serious,” Ashley said sternly, lowering her voice and mimicking the general consensus.
“People take art seriously.” Alex shrugged.
They were standing in the Louvre, the museum that housed the largest collection of art in the world, close to the exhibit of arguably the most famous picture in the world: the Mona Lisa.
“Why do you think she’s smiling?” Alex asked as they headed out of the room, back into the main corridor that snaked through the maze of exhibits.
“I bet it’s a guy.” Ashley sighed. “Even back then, I bet men were trouble.”
“Yeah,” Alex agreed. Most of both her angst and euphoria seemed to derive from a man.
“So where next?” Ashley asked as they wandered the corridor, selecting an empty bench to sit at and browse their map of Paris.
Ashley had highlighted all the locations she thought they should visit. There was the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower and the nearby wealth of luxurious designer shops.
“I mean, we simply have to go to Chanel while in Paris,” Ashley said, tapping the spot on the map with her manicured nail.
“Not that we can afford anything in there.”
“That’s not the point.” Ashley shook her head. “Chanel is like an exhibit in itself, like our generation’s Mona Lisa.”
“That makes our generation sound very consumer oriented.”
“But fashion is art,” Ashley argued, and Alex had to nod in agreement. Though she thought of someone who wouldn’t be so quick to agree: Oscar.
For a brief moment she thought of him in his hospital bed, reading his books, seething about what was wrong with the world. She did miss him. She missed his dark humor and irrepressible opinions. He had an opinion about everything. But Alex knew she couldn’t let her mind linger on him for too long. She needed a distraction from her own thoughts.
“So shall we do the Eiffel Tower or the shops?” Alex asked, checking her watch. “We’ve only got time for one if we want to get back to the hotel and change before dinner.”
“Okay…” Ashley looked intently at the map, trying to decide how they should spend their afternoon.
“The tower is a landmark, and we should see it, really,” she began. “But then the shops are a sight to behold in themselves, and shopping is my favorite thing to do, like, ever.”
“So you’re saying that the Eiffel Tower is too romantic a destination?” Alex began, forcing a decision from Ashley’s comment.
“And that, really, as a girls’ vacation, we’d be better off shopping?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Ashley beamed. “You’re like a mind reader!”
“With a specialty in Ashley,” Alex joked.
“Yeah.” Ashley’s smile fell away slightly, and she looked down sadly at the map.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Ash?”
“You’ll be mad at me,” Ashley said, her voice small.
“I could never be mad at you,” Alex reassured her. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just…” Ashley looked at the map and sighed deeply. “Pierre always said he’d take me up the Eiffel Tower, that’s all. And I know that this is a man-free vacation, but being here, in his city, seeing all the things he promised to show me himself, it’s hard.”
Alex placed a comforting arm around her friend. “Men really do suck,” she stated.
“I feel stupid for even thinking about him!” Ashley lamented, hitting the map in frustration.
“I’m sure that he never thinks about me, yet here I am moping on our girls’ vacation!”
“Ash, it’s okay. I mean, I’ve done my fair share of moping this vacation.”
“Guys are just a waste of time!” Ashley seethed. “All they do is make us unhappy!”
Alex leant her head against Ashley’s shoulder, sharing her pain.
“But who is worse?” Alex asked philosophically. “The fool or the fool that follows them?”
“The fool, definitely,” Ashley decided immediately. “The fool shouldn’t let anyone follow them in the first place.”
“Let’s just forget about boys and enjoy our vacation,” Alex said softly. “I’m sure trying on some overpriced designer items will help you feel better.”
“Yes, it will,” Ashley agreed. She folded up the map and returned it to her designer satchel. They started to walk down the corridor, but she stopped briefly, looking thoughtful.
“I mean, one day we will find the right guy, right? It won’t always be this hard, be this painful?”
“Of course we will,” Alex answered with complete conviction. “We just haven’t found them yet.”
But Alex wasn’t quite as sure of her latter statement. A part of her felt that she had indeed found the right guy for her; it had just never been the right time. Perhaps there never would be a right time. Maybe it was an obscenely rare occasion to disc
over the right guy also at the right time. Determined not to let men ruin her vacation, Alex pushed the thought out of her mind and focused on finding a designer shop to lose herself in.
****
Ashley spotted the Chanel logo when they were still several blocks down the street from it, walking arm in arm past boutiques and brasseries.
“All these cakes look so good,” Alex cooed, glancing in shop windows and seeing neatly stacked macaroons of all the colors of the rainbow.
“There it is!” Ashley stopped and pointed excitedly at the double C sign, which Alex had to squint at to even make out.
“How can you even see that?”
“I’m hardwired to seek out anything designer,” Ashley explained, smiling.
“Okay, well, before you go rushing in, I want to broker a deal,” Alex said sternly.
“What kind of deal?” Ashley countered, intrigued.
“You can have one whole hour in Chanel, on the condition that we then go have cakes here.” Alex gestured to the small cake shop they were currently standing outside.
“Done!” Ashley reached out and shook her friend’s hand firmly. “Now let’s go abuse my father’s credit card! As Chanel in Paris definitely sounds like an emergency to me!”
Within the designer store, Ashley was in her element. She tried on dresses and jackets, all of which fitted her like a glove. She had the figure of a model. The staff had initially been aloof towards the two American girls who came rushing into the store, but once Ashley mentioned her father’s credit card, they were much more attentive.
“You’re not really going to buy anything here, are you?” Alex asked with concern, noticing with a panic the price labels on the items. A Chanel sweater alone could cost thousands of euros. She didn’t even want to try to figure out what that would be in dollars.
“I don’t know, maybe.” Ashley shrugged casually. “I’m in dire need of some retail therapy.”
As Ashley tried on items, Alex carefully navigated her way around the shop. It was so much nicer inside than normal shops but with far less merchandise out. There was only one of anything out on display. If Ashley wanted to try something on, she had to request it in her size.
Around the store, there were lavish chaise longues and chairs for patrons to sit in, and twice, the girls were offered champagne but declined, on Alex’s insistence, as the last thing Ashley needed to further fuel her splurge was alcohol.
Letters of Love (Lessons in Love) Page 17
