The Soulmates Collection

by S. L. Scott

  “Ha ha.” I nudge him with my knee, but then I stop laughing. “Oh my God, you’re right. You were inside of me when I turned twenty-two. That definitely means something.” Sliding my head up to see his face, I ask, “Why do you call me Sunshine?”

  “That’s for another day. It’s late. Go to sleep.”

  “Okay.” With a goofy grin on my face, I whisper, “Goodnight.”

  “Fais de beaux rêves.”

  “Tell me what that means.”

  With another kiss to my forehead he says, “Sweet dreams.”

  “Fais de beaux rêves.”

  * * *

  On my twenty-second birthday I wake up alone on the top bunk in a room in a hostel in the middle of Paris. Other than the alone part, it’s good. I’m in Paris on my birthday. It’s hard to complain. Leaning over the edge of the bed, I look down to see if Olivier is here.

  He’s not.

  But a note and his phone are on the nightstand. Maybe he just ran out for a minute or even better, to get us coffee again. I climb down the bed and take the note in hand.

  Cher soleil,

  Joyeux anniversaire!

  I have to work, but I want to meet you, take you out for a birthday meal. I’ve left my phone, so I can call you after work. I shall see you later, love.

  Tout mon amour,

  Olivier

  I take the phone in hand and hold it to my heart. Even I know him trusting me with his phone is like trusting me with his heart. After dropping it into my purse, I pull out a dress I’ve waited to wear all week. It’s frilly, has a bow for the belt, and makes me feel pretty. I found it online and had to have it. It’s a perfect fit and I just knew it had to come to Paris with me.

  After getting ready, I grab my purse and coat and head out. I had planned on visiting another museum, but I’ve decided to scrap my schedule and follow my heart to the Eiffel Tower—straight, no stops. I’ve been here for four days and still not seen it. That must be a crime by French standards.

  Stopping in a bakery along the way, I get a hot coffee to warm me up along with a chocolate éclair to treat myself. If I can’t eat dessert first on my birthday, then when can I? I take in a few shops as I stroll to the subway station, finding a cute leather wallet with an embroidered design on it.

  Back on track to Le Tour Eiffel, I feel comfortable enough after walking most of Paris over the last few days to guide myself and leave my map tucked away. Two train stops and one change later, I arrive in the 7th arrondissement. The weather is clear even though it’s a little chilly, but I don’t mind taking my time, so I start walking again, but stop in my tracks.

  There.

  It.

  Is.

  The Eiffel Tower stands before me, tall and proud. I could probably stand here another hour admiring it, but I run instead, way too excited to play it cool.

  When they ask if you want to walk, take the elevator. Leave the stairs for those of us who like to linger at all the major levels. I hate feeling rushed by others and can’t get enough of the view of this gorgeous, historical city. I stare out for miles, imagining where Olivier might be. Taking the phone from my purse, I check for missed calls. There aren’t any, so I tuck it back in again.

  I spend well over an hour enjoying the climb up and coming back down before leaving and finding a spot to sit on the lawn. I lay back, staring at the top of the tower against the blue of the sky. My birthday really couldn’t get any better.

  Then a rap song blares from inside my purse. Olivier!

  I hurry to answer. “Hi.”

  “Hello.”

  I pull the phone away and look at the screen before putting it back to my ear again. “Hello,” I say tentatively.

  A woman says, “Hi, I’m looking for Oliver.”

  “Oliver? You mean Olivier?”

  She laughs. “Yes, Olivier. This is his mother. Is he around?”

  “His mother? You sound American.”

  “I am American. Just like Oliver. Who am I speaking with?”

  I pause, stunned by her words. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach, then I clear my throat when she asks again. I finally reply, “This is Kandace. Oliver isn’t here right now.”

  “Kandace, will you let him know I called?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Goodbye,” I say, hanging up. I sit there staring at the phone like it will somehow give me the answers I suddenly find myself wanting. Answers to questions that aren’t even questions but realizations instead. Oliver is an American, just like me. He lied to me. About everything. When his accent faltered I didn’t think twice because it also thickened sometimes.

  I gulp, trying to fight the tears of betrayal that are rapidly racing to be freed.

  Why did he lie to me about being French?

  I wouldn’t have cared. Being from the states could have bonded us even more through this adventure abroad.

  More importantly when he was trying to convince me to stay, why not give up the act then? Why continue it?

  I stand up, knowing I won’t get any answers sitting here at the base of a monument that is now tainted by the web of lies I’ve been caught in. I take a taxi back to the hostel. I’m in no mood to appreciate a city that once held beauty. I invested my heart into a sham and now I’m paying the price. Tomorrow I leave and would have known no different, I would have gone on with my life occasionally remembering the Frenchman who stole my heart one time in France. Instead, I’m left with memories of a con artist who traded my affection for a fuck…or three, maybe four. I shake my head not able to keep track anymore.

  Feeling disgusted, I walk into the lobby with a mission. Stefan stands to greet me, no lady-friends in sight. “Bonjour, Kandeese.”

  A new perspective firmly in place, he doesn’t look half the sleaze that Olivier… er, Oliver does to me now. Stefan is easy to figure out. He doesn’t hide his wants or who he is. Oliver… I get angrier and stop. “Bonjour,” I say, smiling sweetly. “Do you have any available rooms for the night?”

  He makes this sexual hand motion and says, “Ehhhh, you and the Américain not getting along?”

  “You knew he was an American?”

  Shrugging, he says, “Of course, I knew this. He speaks French but, uhhhh, how do you say, slappy?”

  “Sloppy?”

  “Oui. Oui. Sloppy.”

  “I guess I’m the last to know. So please tell me you have another room for the night.”

  “I do. I have a double or a single.”

  “Single please.”

  He goes to the desk and starts typing. “It will cost you more to have a single.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Reaching into the drawer in front of him, he digs a key out. “Room quatre, first floor.”

  Within fifteen minutes, I’m all settled into the new room for my last night in Paris. Sitting down on the twin-sized bed, I sigh, then lay back. Even though it’s my last night, I’ve lost my appetite and don’t have the energy to go out. I choose to stay here until tomorrow. I have until lunch to explore one last time. As for tonight, tonight I put in my earbuds, turn on my favorite playlist and hole up in the security of this room, trying to avoid the traitor who stole my heart.

  Chapter 9

  I wake up to the overhead light blinding me and the curtains still wide open. It’s just after midnight when I see the clock on the nightstand. I pull the earbuds out and hear a ringing sound. It’s muffled, but can still be heard. I see my purse. Reaching down by my feet, I grab it and pull Olivier’s… ugh, Oliver’s phone out of it. When it lights up, it displays ten missed calls and several texts. Opening one, it’s for me, sent from him: Kandace, where are you? I’m using my friends’ phone. Come back to the room. I’ll meet you there.

  Looking at the clock one more time, I’m wondering how I’m going to return his phone to him without seeing him again. I could leave it with Stefan, but I don’t know if I trust him to actually return it. Ugh. This sucks. I feel so betrayed by
him.

  One thing I know is that I’m not returning it tonight. I take off my pretty dress and turn out the overhead light before getting back in bed. I need sleep. If I have to confront Oliver tomorrow, I need to be rested or I might fall victim to his wicked ways again. And as much as my body says, “Oui,” my brain says, “Non.”

  * * *

  The sun shines in, waking me just after seven. I slept longer than I thought I could under the circumstances. I’m also pleasantly surprised that Stefan didn’t give my hiding place away.

  I get up and get dressed while sneaking in and out of the communal bathroom. By nine, I leave for breakfast and one last trip to the Eiffel Tower hoping to replace the pain from yesterday with new memories.

  Arriving before the big crowds, I don’t bother going up again. Instead, I find a space on the lawn and sit down. Just as I unpack my croissant, I hear, “You’re avoiding me.”

  I pause, trying to control my roller coaster of emotions before talking with Oliver. “I am.” The truth can’t hurt the situation.

  “What happened?”

  I turn around and see him sitting a few feet behind me. “Your mother called.”

  The news doesn’t seem to faze him. “What did she say?”

  “She wants you to call her back.”

  Panic has finally set in, showing me an emotion I can relate to. “It’s not what you think, Kandace.” His accent is slipping away just like the charade he’s been putting on.

  “Really?” I stand up, dusting my pants off. With my shoulders back, I say, “She’s American. You’re American. I’m not sure what to think about all the lies you told me.”

  He stands quickly, coming closer to touch my hands, but I shift back and warn, “Don’t.”

  “I can explain.”

  “You can explain why you sound like an American now? I’m not stupid, but you treated me like I was. Guess what? I think I’ve got this one all figured out. You lied to get laid.” My arms are in the air as I lose the calm demeanor I was holding onto. “You tricked me and for what? You made me believe I could actually stay here and we would live off love.” My eyes fill with tears. “I felt like we were more than casual sex, but you were still feeding me bullshit lines the whole time, knowing we would never have a future.”

  “Please, Kandace. Calm down and let’s tal—”

  “Calm down? Are you insane? Do you know how much you’ve humiliated me, how dumb I feel? You’ve ruined a trip I’ve dreamed about my entire life and all for your own enjoyment.”

  He grabs my arms before I can escape. “Listen to me. Everything I said was true. The person you met, you spent time with, that’s me—”

  “No, that’s Olivier. You are Oliver or are you so detached from reality that you’ve forgotten who you are?”

  An accordion player in the distance plays, filling the air with “La Vie en Rose” and my heart begins to thud in my chest. With my hand toward the musician, I say, “That’s what Paris was to me. It was a dream come true. I would have been content to see the major sites and visit museums, eat baguettes at bistros. But you took that away from me, stole it without my permission because I believed you. I believed what you told me and showed me and I fell in love. I hate that I did because again, it makes me feel stupid. But maybe that’s what this trip was about—taking the good and forgetting the bad. You, Oliver, are the bad and I’ll try to forget you and how you affected so much of my trip.”

  I turn, slipping my arms out of his grasp and his hands drop away. Without warning, in one last desperate attempt to talk this through, he says, “I fell for you too, Kandace.” Desperately taking my hand, he turns me back around to face him. “We were meant to meet. We were meant to be.”

  The way he says my name in his native accent isn’t as charming, but I like the sincerity of it. It just came a little too late. It’s then that everything becomes so much clearer. I don’t have to wash my memories away or forget him. I just need to keep our time together in perspective and enjoy what it was. Able to finally see the situation for what it is, I walk to him, touch his cheek. “We aren’t meant to be, Oliver. We are lost in translation.”

  Standing there with the Eiffel Tower as his backdrop, my heart settles as I find peace between us. Handing him his phone, I lift up and kiss each of his cheeks. With a smile, I back away and say, “Au revoir, Olivier.” Then I turn and walk away, leaving him behind as I leave Paris, choosing to take all of my memories with me.

  ~Four and a Half Weeks Later ~

  My alarm goes off, but I don’t want to get up. I’m tired and it’s Saturday. I deserve a day off. Opening my eyes, I know today won’t be that day. I don’t allow myself too much free time or my thoughts wander to a certain American in Paris. Straight to the coffee pot, I start the machine, then the shower. A knock on the door jolts me the rest of the way awake. I shouldn’t have company at seven-thirty in the morning and my roommate went back to Kansas for the winter break, so I have no idea who it could be. I walk to the door of my apartment and peek out, but no one is there.

  Finally, I open the door and a small box is sitting on my doormat. Looking around, I see if I can find who delivered it. It didn’t come through the postal service or package delivery because it’s blue with an orange and white striped ribbon around it. I lean down for closer inspection and see a tag. The tiny note reads:

  Kandace,

  Open Me.

  Hrmmm… This is peculiar and totally intriguing. I grab the box and go back inside, securing the deadbolts back in place.

  I set the package on the coffee table and watch it for a minute before I remember I have the shower going. Damn it! The hot water has probably already run cold. Hurrying into the bathroom, I shower quickly, taking advantage of the remaining warm water, but think about that package the entire time.

  With a towel wrapped around my head and my robe on my body, I pour myself a cup of coffee, then sit on the couch to stare at the mysterious box a little longer. In the few minutes I do, absolutely nothing changes, moves, or gives me any indication to what’s inside. So I take the box in hand and open it. When I lift the lid, I find a miniature silver Eiffel Tower. Picking it up, I turn it around between my fingers and sigh. Thoughts of Olivier cross my mind and my heart starts racing.

  Anxiously, I dig under the fluffy filling, but there’s nothing else in the box to tell me where or who it came from. I take a sip of my coffee, then lean back on the couch, remembering Olivier’s… Oliver’s face, his smile, what he looked like when he was sleeping, the way he made me feel before his lies were discovered, and the tears in his eyes when I kissed him goodbye.

  I set the Eiffel Tower down on the table and stand. One last glance is given toward the door wondering who was on the other side of it just minutes before.

  * * *

  The library is always empty around the holidays, which is why it’s my favorite time of the year to be here. Most people are recovering from Christmas to bother with spending time in a dusty room full of old books. But I love it. There are a few other sad souls like myself jumping ahead on their spring schedules, but other than that, just staff is here and they’re scarce. Two of my professors gave me the syllabus early, knowing I like to work ahead and be prepared.

  I look out the large window next to my table and watch as people pass by. This is my favorite corner of the library. It has a great view and is set away from the main books and other large rooms, giving me more privacy.

  Turning my attention back to the large book in front of me, I flip to the next page and dig back into my research.

  The alarm on my phone goes off two hours later. Due to expected bad weather, the library is closing early today. It shouldn’t. If I’m willing to give up my holiday to be here, they should let me stay. I roll my eyes as I stand, gathering my belongings. Outside the window, I see a man sit down on a bench. The wave of his brown hair reminds me of Oliver’s shaggy hair. It’s not him… though after getting the mysterious Eiffel Tower this morning, I kind of want
it to be.

  “We’re closing now, Miss,” an older man in a bow tie and cardigan says from behind the information desk.

  I grab my backpack and pull it on. When I pass him, I smile, and say, “Happy New Year.”

  “Happy New Year.”

  * * *

  Three days until the New Year begins and I’ve got a case of the holiday blues. It happens every year around this time, but this year I didn’t go home and with my friends gone, I’m feeling very alone.

  I actually went on two dates this semester and neither was worth a second. It was a bummer too because on paper, one of them should have been a perfect match for me. He’s in the Bio Engineering Program, likes sushi, but not spicy Mexican. He drinks wine, appreciating quality instead of chugging beers like other college guys. He has never been in a fraternity, although he did do the pentathlon last year for the Sigma Chi’s. He was even from Pennsylvania like me, but he was so boring.

  Sitting up suddenly, I stare down at the sushi in front of me. Oh my God! Am I boring?

  Bewildered by this thought, I shake my head. I’m not boring. I’m fun. Totally fun. Adventurous. I mean, I went to Paris all by myself, after all. If that doesn’t shout fun I don’t know what does…

  Smacking my hand to my forehead, I hear Oliver’s words come back, “Step out of your box and live a little. Don’t just exist. Live.”

  Live.

  Am I living life?

  Experiencing all life has to offer?

  The answer is too depressing, so I try to ignore it. I ignore it until the next day when another package arrives on my doorstep and I can’t ignore the fact that the best time of my life was in Paris. I pick up the box, a little bigger than the last, but not by much. This time I don’t hesitate, I just open it. Inside is a shiny, silver engraved keychain with a key attached. The engraving reads, Mon coeur t'appartient.. There’s a note inside this time. I open it quickly. Il en est de mon appartement.