Tess drew in a breath and twisted her fingers. “Aunt Lu, there’s a slight issue. When I told Mark we were staying at that Lucky Youth hostel, he told me there was an age limit. Last summer, a few of his older friends were booted out for being overage.”
I laughed. “Well, I knew the term youth hostel would eventually catch up to me somewhere. Don’t worry, I’m sure there are hundreds more out there,” I held my fists in the air, feigning enthusiasm. “I would just like to vote for a private bathroom this next time around. If possible.”
“Actually, I had an idea.” Tess’s face turned pink. She sipped her coffee and placed it back down on the saucer, making it clatter loudly. “What do you think about staying at the hotel where Mark and his brother are staying?” She looked down and picked at one of her fingernails.
“Come again? Hotel? As in no ‘s’?”
“No ‘s’.” She smiled. “They’re staying at Le Palais in the Golden Triangle area. I was thinking it might be kind of nice to upgrade and see Paris in style. You’ve been such a great sport about the hostel thing, and I feel like now it’s my turn to compromise.”
“That’s so nice of you.” I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Don’t you think we should treat ourselves? This hotel is in the middle of everything, and the view is supposed to be spectacular. I think we deserve it.”
“And this has nothing to do with Mark?” I smiled.
Tess picked up a menu and hid her red face behind it.
I pulled the menu away. “Tess. You don’t need to convince me. You had me at hotel.”
“Really?”
“Um, really. No sleep cocoon? No shower shoes? Not squatting to pee? While my quads have gotten a bit tighter these past few days, it’s really not good for my digestive issues,” I said with a knowing look.
Tess looked giddy with relief.
“I can see it right now. A hot bath, blow-dried hair, champagne on the Champs-Élysées. I may even get this shirt laundered.” I tugged on my newly stained tank top. “How do you like that?”
“I love it. Aunt Lu, you’re the best.” Tess walked over to my seat for a hug. “Before we go high class, don’t forget you promised we would live like the Amsterdamians this evening.” She pulled herself out of my embrace and did a little dance. “Red light district, baby.”
“How could I forget?” I groaned. “We’ll be observing, not partaking, young lady.” I wagged my finger. “Your mother would kill me.”
“I know, I know,” Tess sang. She excused herself to use the ladies room, and I Googled the name of the hotel on my iPhone. That moment alone justified the international upgrades we’d made to our phone plans. I just couldn’t imagine being out of reach for four weeks.
As I dialed the hotel’s number, I noticed a girl who had walked into the diner. She instantly reminded me of a stereotypical Dutch girl in a movie. She looked as if she should be named Jolanda, with long, blonde, braided hair and red clogs.
“Morgen,” she sang to me, as she followed the hostess to the booth in front of us.
“Hello,” I replied, kind of confusedly. The look on my face must have mirrored what was going on in my brain.
“Is something wrong?” she said in a kind voice. The waitress placed the menu on her table and walked away.
“Oh, no. I just think you might be getting me mixed up with my sister. It happens all the time. She looks exactly like me—in an older version,” I said, chuckling.
Jolanda gave me a strange, sideways look. I tucked my hair behind my ears and started to fidget. I could actually feel my face flush. “It’s been a rough week. I don’t usually look this bad.”
She shook her head quickly as if to erase me. “Vaat? I think I need my coffee. Vat do you mean ... your sister? I just said Morgen.” She threw up her hands.
“Right. That’s her name.” I was starting to lose patience.
Jolanda drew in a breath. “I’m going to...” she trailed off pointing to her seat.
I simply nodded.
A man walked past us and smiled. “Morgen, ladies.”
“Goademorgen,” Jolanda answered.
I closed my eyes in shame.
“Bonjour, Le Palais,” said the voice at the other end of my phone. I perked up, feeling much more hopeful for Paris. However, first, I just had to get through this day.
* * * *
A visit to the Van Gogh Museum, a tour of Anne Frank’s house, and one boat cruise later, we stumbled out of a coffee shop in the red light district. “Pot and coffee—kind of counterproductive, no?” I grabbed Tess’s arm for support.
“It works just fine for me, partner!” Tess sang gleefully. She linked my elbow with hers and swung me around as if we were doing a square dance. I planted my feet firmly on the ground and without missing a beat, Tess traded me for a lamppost.
“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” I said. “When you asked if I wanted to share a dessert, I was thinking more along the lines of oh, I don’t know. Maybe a slice of Dutch apple pie? A piece of almond cake? Not a hash brownie. If your mother could see us now.”
“Shh.” Tess held a finger to her lips as she reverted back to her do-si-do with the lamppost. “I say, what happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam.”
“You got that right,” I agreed. “Isn’t pot supposed to make everyone laugh and act silly? Figures I’m the one percent who has the adverse reaction.”
“Maybe you need a little more help to beat the blues.” Tess had a glimmer in her eye as she rubbed her hands together.
“Um, I don’t think so. The pot did nothing but help me greet the blues, thank you very much. You know, you shouldn’t have let me do this,” I scolded.
“I don’t recall tying your hands behind your back. Since when am I in charge of you?”
Her hand flew to her mouth in horror, and she gasped, stopping in her tracks. “Oh my God. What if I’m really Aunt Tess and you’re really my niece, Lucy?”
I closed my eyes in despair. “We are going right back to the hostel, I can’t even imagine what your mother would say if she knew ...”
“My mother would probably say we should stop and eat something. I’ve got the munchies and Dutch candy from the vending machine ain’t gonna cut it!”
“Fine,” I said sternly, steering her body in the direction of our hostel. “First food and then we’re going back.” I looked at my watch. It was eight p.m., which meant that it was two p.m., in New York, the exact time our ceremony was supposed to have started. I willed myself not to think about it. Eat and go to bed. The day would be over soon.
I sulked my way through the city, and we ended up at the same diner we ate at this morning. The waitress came to take our order.
“I would love some eggs, please.” That’s when the floodgates opened. I put my head down on the table, banged my fists, and started to sob. “I just want some friggin’ eggs.”
“She, um, can’t have kids,” Tess said in an obnoxiously loud whisper. “Then her fiancée cancelled their wedding. It would have been happening,”—she paused to look at her watch—“like now. O-M-G. Now!!!” she exclaimed. “Can you give us a minute please?”
The waitress seemed completely unfazed by my tantrum and Tess’s dramatic narration. She must have been accustomed to stoned Americans. What she didn’t realize was that if I had eggs, I wouldn’t have been sitting in her booth. I’d be saying my vows right about now to the man I had thought was the love of my life. Instead, I was a grown woman half-baked into oblivion.
“I’m sorry.” I sniffed when I looked up at Tess several moments later. “I’m not one for public meltdowns. I think the pot made me extra emotional. It’s just...” I wrung my hands together in despair and felt stickiness from the tears and mascara. “You know, I think there was a part of me that was hoping Cooper had kept his hold on the Waldorf-Astoria and would whisk me away right to the wedding I’d always wanted.”
Tess’s eyes widened upon hearing her delusi
onal Aunt’s true confession. After a moment, she reached across the table and folded her hands over mine, looking stone-cold sober.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Lu. You do not deserve to be in this much pain. Cooper has no idea what he’s lost.”
“Thanks,” I sighed and gave her hand a squeeze back. “Hey, would you mind if we went back to the room? I promise, I’ll treat you to a feast in the morning. I have no appetite and can’t sit here anymore.”
“You’re on, but if you think I’m waiting until morning, you’re crazy. The vending machines will have to suffice. I have munchies that cannot be controlled!” Tess popped a piece of gum into her mouth.
We walked out of the diner, and suddenly I had an impulse I couldn’t control. I took my phone out of my bag.
“Tess, please don’t tell your mother what I’m about to do. I need closure,” I declared.
“No,” Tess said firmly. “You don’t mean...”
I nodded. “Remember, what you said earlier, what happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam.” Just the thought of making some sort of contact, any contact, with Cooper, was enough to make me smile. “Don’t worry,” I said, waving my hand. “I’m just going to say a quick hi. Keep it light.”
“Aunt Lu, you’re going to regret this. You do not want to go there. Remember our conversation earlier today? Materialistic? Damaged?”
“Aren’t we all, Tessie. I just told you the negatives. We didn’t get into his positives. As you know, a negative and a positive balance each other out. They equal a neutral. That, my dear, is exactly what I am about to make. A neutral hello.”
“No, a negative and a positive equal a big, fat zero.” She formed a circle with her fingers and waved it in front of my face.
I just smiled. I began to dial.
“Oh my God, it’s ringing.” I looked at Tess, who was gnawing away on her nails.
It rang four times and then his voicemail picked up. I could feel the color drain from my face as I listened to his recorded voice.
“He changed his message,” I whispered. I felt as if I had been kicked in the gut. What else had he changed? Was he dating? Did he ever think about me?
Hearing his voice brought up so many emotions—bitterness, sadness, hurt, jealousy, betrayal, and major anxiety, followed by an enormous wave of nausea. My hands shook at the beep of his voicemail. I cleared my throat and watched Tess crack her knuckles.
“Hi Cooper...it’s me. Lucy. It’s been awhile. Three months actually,” I laughed bitterly into the phone. “But who’s counting, right?”
I cleared my throat again. “Happy wedding day,” I sang in a too-high, slightly manic tone. “I’m in Amsterdam. Celebrating the single life. Celibacy...” I looked over at Tess and cringed. She had her face buried in her hands.
“I’m kidding. Not really.” A lump rose in my throat and it actually hurt to swallow it. “Cooper,” I choked, “why did you leave me? Why did you do this to us?”
Tess lunged for my phone, and I turned my back to her, walking towards a footbridge. “I figured you would come to your senses, but maybe you already had. Did you ever love me? You were my life!” At that point, I was sobbing into the phone.
Some nasty comments may have followed, but if they had, within seconds, my mind had blocked them. I heard Tess’s heavy footsteps coming up behind me.
“We had plans,” I wailed and tripped onto the bridge to get away from her. “We were supposed to grow old together. We were supposed to...”
“Hey!” I yelled angrily at Tess who had pretty much pushed the phone out of my hand while pressing buttons to end the call. The phone fell to the ground near my feet. “Why did you do that?”
“Why did you do that?” Tess sighed and shook her head sadly. She leaned against the bridge and stared at me with her arms folded defensively against her chest. “Can’t you think a little more of yourself? Or if you don’t, at least pretend you do. For once?”
I pushed out my lip and folded my hands across my chest. “You’re too young to understand.” The heart to heart we’d had earlier that afternoon felt like it had never happened. We were back on two different playing fields.
“No, Aunt Lu, that’s where you’re wrong. I was never, ever, too young to understand how special you are.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and looked away, unable to meet her gaze. I was beginning to feel mortified about my actions in front of my niece. Once upon a time, she had looked up to me.
A tour boat passed beneath the bridge, and despite the happy sounds of music, laughter, and clinking glasses, an awkward silence hung between us. I took a few sips of air to steady my breathing.
Suddenly, my phone rang, and Tess and I sprung into action. We simultaneously bent down to grab it and bumped heads in the process. The phone lit up and Cooper’s name and number flashed across the screen.
“Please.” Tess placed a gentle hand on my arm. “Don’t pick it up. He hurt you so bad.”
My forehead smarted, but I remained frozen in a crouched position, listening to it ring for the third time. I grabbed onto the bridge to help support my wobbly legs as I stood up.
“I’ll just let him leave a voicemail,” I said weakly. He never did.
Chapter Four
You can take the girl out of New York, but you can’t take the New York out of the girl.
Facebook Status June 8 at 2:00pm
“I feel like I’ve died and gone to Versailles,” I whispered loudly as Tess and I stepped into the lobby of the hotel we’d booked in Paris. “Thank you for this brilliant idea. Merci, merci, merci!” I enthusiastically tugged on her arm as we both looked around the majestic hotel.
That morning, I’d woken up in Amsterdam, feeling surprisingly optimistic. It was a brand new day, and taking a break from roughing it definitely upped my happiness quotient. With the promise of a high thread count ahead, I was hardly bothered when the hostel shower refused my token again that morning. My irritation level was fairly low on the Richter scale, and I’d decided it was going to stay that way.
I’d survived the would-be wedding day, the sink baths were over, and to top it all off, on the train from Amsterdam to Paris, I’d gotten an email from Janice Preston, an old friend with whom I used to work. She was now an editor at a travel magazine, and after she’d heard I’d gone to Europe for an extended period of time, she’d written to ask if I’d be interested in pitching an idea or two for an article.
Au revoir to yesterday. Paris was definitely off to a great start, and today I planned to sip champagne in style.
“Aunt Lu, you’re the one I should be thanking,” Tess said. “I still feel really guilty. My plan wasn’t to pick a fancy hotel and have you pay for it. Mark and his brother have great taste.”
“Yes they do, and thank God for that. Don’t even give it another thought. This is my gift to you.” Excitement filled me as I looked around the lobby. My eyes wandered from the marble floor, to the dark antique furniture and works of eighteenth century art, and then up to the crown moldings and crystal chandeliers.
“After that last place...” I said with a shudder.
“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”
I gave Tess a sideways glance. “It may have been charming on the outside, but I’m too old for dormitory living. And will you look at that guy behind the front desk? Are all French men that handsome?” I whispered.
“Who, him?” Tess followed my gaze. “You think he’s better looking than the guy we gave the key back to this morning?”
My mouth fell open, but turned into a smile when I realized she was kidding. The man who had checked us out of the hostel in Amsterdam had looked as if he had been on a three-month bender.
“Justin Bieber’s greasy older brother? Just a tad. C’mon, let’s check in so we can ditch these things.” I adjusted my heavy backpack.
We approached the front desk, and I began to feel self-conscious about the way we were dressed. “I cannot wait to get out of these clothes,” I murmured to T
ess through gritted teeth.
She was wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt, and I had on my well-worn leggings and a stretched-out tank top. That would’ve been fine if we had Louis Vuitton luggage as arm candy, but the backpacks did little to enhance our look.
“Bonjour, Mesdemoiselles,” the handsome man said, making my arm hair stand on end. He could have said, “Hello, you dirty American sluts”, but with his beautiful French tongue, anything would’ve sounded seductive. I glanced at his nametag: Claude.
“Bonjour.” I smiled and tapped Tess’s foot with my own. I leaned on the counter and drew a hand to my face, tracing the not-so-hollows of my cheeks.
“Parlez-vous francais?” he said.
“No,” I said apologetically, half-attempting to look sexy. I had been warned the French don’t appreciate it when Americans won’t even try to speak their language. Yet, I had nothing to say. “Un poco español,” I offered, with a friendly chuckle.
“I see. Name please?” He smiled tersely.
“It’s under Tess McNally.” I handed him my credit card.
Tess shifted uncomfortably and gave me a gracious smile. She had never been good at accepting generosity from others.
“Mesdemoiselles, where are you traveling from today?”
“We’re from New York,” I answered in my best Audrey Hepburn impression. “City.” I straightened up and tossed my hair over my shoulder. I needed him to know that we were on his playing field. I also hoped to impress my niece while I was at it. Especially, after my pathetic display the other night in Amsterdam.
“Ah, very nice.” He inserted keys into a folder. “You will certainly approve of our hotel and find it quite delightful. The view of the Seine is simply divine.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Tess gushed. “We’re easy to please. We’ve been doing the hostel thing for the past week, so anything’s an improvement!”
As Tess twirled her unwashed hair, Claude gave her a not-so-subtle once over and paused for a moment with the folder mid-air. He turned to his colleague and began speaking in French.
Tales From a Broad Page 6
