by Tracey Smith
“Do you live nearby?” I continued trying to learn a little bit more about her.
“Would you like to see where I live?” she asked with her bewitching smile returning.
I couldn’t refuse. I didn’t want to think about spending another night alone.
We left the restaurant and I followed her back to her place. This time we walked in silence. It was strange how the mood had changed. She had seemed so happy and carefree today. Now she seemed almost somber as she led me through the dark streets.
She lived in a small loft above some boutiques in a beautiful part of the city. It was just a single large room divided into sections by her furniture; several couches were grouped together in one corner, bookshelves lined that wall, an art easel with some paints and blank canvases sat in the other corner. Behind a Japanese screen I could see her bed jutting out from underneath the large windows.
“Do you paint?” I asked gesturing toward the evidence in the corner.
She just shrugged as she walked toward the small cabinet located across from her bed.
“Would you like some wine?” she asked as she poured herself a glass.
“Sure”
I was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, wondering if she regretted inviting me to her house. She seemed so different all of a sudden.
We sat on one of her couches with our wine and I wondered if I should offer to leave. I wasn’t sure if I knew how to get back to my hotel from here, especially at night.
“Why are you here Michael?” she asked seriously
“I can go.” I said quickly, setting down my glass of wine
“No” she smiled “I meant why are you in Paris?” she clarified
“I…I don’t know” I answered honestly “My mother died a few months ago and I just needed to get away. This is where I ended up.”
Her expression softened.
“Did you leave anybody behind?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure what she meant.
“Not really” I replied, my father didn’t count.
“No girlfriend?” she probed.
Immediately my thoughts jumped to the beautiful waitress I had seen just before leaving San Diego. It annoyed me. Why would I think of her?
“No” I answered
“So what’s next?” she asked.
It seemed as if she was trying to decide something about me.
“Whatever life brings, I suppose. I have no real plans.”
It sounded more desolate than I intended. She reached her hand over and began gently stroking my hair near the base of my neck. It was soothing. Maybe it was the wine, or the exhaustion from the day, but before I knew it I had fallen asleep.
To my surprise I didn’t dream of all the amazing sights I had seen that day. I didn’t even dream of this strange exotic woman I had just met. Instead I dreamt of the one person who had consumed all my dreams since the day I first saw her. I dreamt of the beautiful waitress from back home.
Chapter 7: The Wedding
My second date with Jared had been a double date with Amy and Dan. It was comfortable and fun. As I had hoped, having Amy and Dan there had eliminated any expectation of a romantic ending to the date. From then on, all of our dates were group outings. It didn’t even really feel like dating, nothing formal like that first night, just hanging out with friends.
I liked Jared, he was nice and funny and easy to be around, but my feelings for him were nothing more than friendship. Our relationship was comfortable but undefined. He would always put his arm around me when we sat together, and attempted to hold my hand at every chance he got. But that is where our intimacy stopped.
I avoided any situation that would put us alone together, and I could tell that it bothered him but he never pushed the issue. Sometimes I wondered if it would be easier to just go ahead and have that awkward conversation about how we would never be more than friends, but I guess I was too much of a coward. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and he seemed content enough with how things were.
Jared and Dan had a great apartment off-campus. Amy and I hung out over there all the time. I wondered why Amy still lived in the dorms with me. I knew she could easily afford a nice apartment like theirs. I asked her about it once and she just shrugged and said she liked living with me.
Amy got me a job with the catering company she worked for. It had been hard to leave the coffee shop. It felt like I was leaving behind any chance of ever seeing my mystery man again, but it was time for me to move on.
I had been working as an assistant chef for the catering company for about 6 months. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed cooking and how good I was at it. I started cooking at Jared and Dan’s place all the time. I loved trying out different recipes.
Pastries and deserts were my favorite thing to experiment with. The guys were always eager taste-testers for all my new creations. My life was finally falling back into a happy routine.
I was even beginning to see my future after college taking shape. I had decided on culinary school. The Art Institute of California had a great culinary program. Amy was looking into the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising. Both were located in San Diego, and we had found a nice apartment that was pretty well centered between the two.
My boss picked up on my ability to create fantastic deserts and that had quickly become my responsibility for all of our catering events. But when we booked a wedding I was surprised that he told me my job would be the cake. I had never made a wedding cake before. I began studying cake design books, and practiced for weeks with smaller versions. The guys loved eating my practice cakes.
Finally I made the real thing. It was a 6-tier masterpiece, each tier a square designed to look like a wrapped gift. I was so proud of it. I couldn’t believe how well it turned out. My boss took one look at it and told me I was a natural.
“I hope they like it” I said nervously, peering out the kitchen doors into the large banquet hall. It was time to reveal the cake.
“Relax” Amy told me “They’ll love it. It’s absolutely beautiful! I had no idea you had such an artistic talent.”
“Neither did I.” I admitted laughing nervously.
She smiled at me one last time as her and one of the other servers carried my cake out of the kitchen. I anxiously watched the faces of the people in the room. Most looked impressed. I held my breath waiting for someone to look disappointed. No one did.
Slowly I began to breathe again. I had done it. My first wedding cake had been a success. I looked around the room triumphantly one more time, gauging the happy expressions of the wedding guests. I was just about to retreat back into the kitchen when the face of one of the guests made my heart stop.
It was him! I blinked rapidly trying to clear my vision. It couldn’t possibly be him. It had been over a year since that night in the coffee shop when I first saw him. It felt like a lifetime ago. But now here he was standing only 20 feet away.
It couldn’t be possible. I stood there transfixed. It was definitely him. I wouldn’t mistake that face anywhere, I had seen it in my dreams nearly every night. Somehow he was even more handsome than I had remembered. I felt elated for the briefest moment. He had finally come back into my life. I realized that some part of me had always believed he would.
But this time would be different. This time I would meet him. Speak to him. My hands were shaking. My whole body was trembling. I had hoped for this chance every night when I went to work at the coffee shop, but I had never really believed it would happen. Now that I stood here staring at him I felt terrified.
What would I say to him? Would he remember me? What excuse did I have for approaching him? I wasn’t a server. I wasn’t even supposed to leave the kitchen. But I would, I had to. I needed to meet this man who had haunted my dreams and consumed my thoughts ever since I’d first seen him. I slowly started to walk toward him, still not sure what I would say.
“Michael” a beautiful woman called to him in a French accent.
; I froze. I watched horrified as she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He casually draped his arm over her shoulders. I felt dizzy. I watched in disbelief as my mystery man stood there with his arm around another woman. I watched as she tenderly kissed his neck and lazily twined her fingers through his hair. Then I turned to run back into the kitchen.
As soon as I was through the kitchen doors I collapsed to the floor. I sat there with my head between my knees hyperventilating. Tears of confusion and pain streamed down my face. Why did this man have such an effect on me?
Michael. That’s what she’d called him. How many nights had I wondered what his name was? I hated that I had heard it for the first time in her voice. I felt so much bitterness toward this woman I didn’t even know. I knew it was childish to feel jealous. He didn’t belong to me. I didn’t even know him. She did.
Why hadn’t I ever considered the possibility that he might have a girlfriend, or even a wife? I shook with fresh sobs at the realization that he might actually be married. That thought was too painful to bear. I had to leave. Now.
I jumped up and grabbed my purse. I was still crying silently, but my new determination to run from this place had focused me. I was just going to slip out the back door. My part was done here, the cake was served, and the reception was almost over. I wouldn’t be needed.
“Katherine?” I heard my boss call as I reached the back door.
I considered for a moment that I could just keep going, but I knew I shouldn’t. I quickly composed myself, wiped my tears on my sleeve and turned to face him.
“Katherine, the bride and groom would like to thank you for the beautiful cake.” he informed me.
I tried to smile, but I couldn’t. The thought of walking out into the banquet hall was terrifying. Could I keep myself from crying if I saw him out there, with her?
“Katherine?” my boss asked in an annoyed tone.
He didn’t understand the turmoil that was going on in my head. I didn’t understand it either.
“Of course” I replied finding my smile and trying to look casual.
I followed him out of the kitchen and glanced around hesitantly. To my relief I didn’t see him. I walked over to the happy new couple and I tried to look happy too.
“We just wanted to tell you what a wonderful job you did on the cake!” the bride was the first to speak “I couldn’t have imagined anything better!” She smiled a genuine smile.
“Thank you” I said modestly. I just wanted to leave.
“No, thank you for making this day perfect for my new wife” the husband smiled lovingly at his bride, and I cringed on the inside.
I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it together.
“We won’t keep you long” she continued “I just wanted to show my appreciation for the amazing job you did.”
She smiled at me again, but there was something in her expression that told me she could tell I was in pain. She looked almost concerned. I smiled back at her, shook hands with both of them, and then fled.
It was all I could do not to literally run from the building. I had ridden to the banquet hall in Amy’s car but I didn’t care. Campus was only a few blocks away so I ran all the way home.
How cruel was Fate? To bring him back into my life, just to break my heart? But would it have been better if I’d never seen him again? Maybe this was better.
Now I knew he was with someone else. Now I knew he would never be with me. Had I ever really thought that he would? I had fantasized about it, but had I ever really thought it would happen?
It didn’t matter anymore. Now I knew. He didn’t belong to me, he never did, and he never would. As soon as I made it back to the dorms I ran to my room and cried myself to sleep.
Chapter 8: Home
Time has a strange way of moving in lulls and lurches. The last few years I’d been in San Diego had seemed at the time to stretch out infinitely, whereas these months I had spent living in Paris had flown by in the blink of an eye.
I never left Elle’s apartment after that first night. Our relationship hadn’t followed a natural course. It wasn’t like we’d been dating and then decided to move in together. It was more like I had spent the night one night and just never left. She didn’t seem to mind, and at first I was just grateful for the company. I had spent so much time alone before I’d met her and it was nice to have someone to share my days with. Or my nights at least.
Our relationship was hard to define. We were definitely more than friends. That was obvious from the way she seduced me nearly every night. She was so seductive in the evenings, dripping with sensuality as soon as she walked through the door. At night she reminded me of the person she was the first day we met. Confident and bold, she knew exactly what she wanted from me and she took it. I always felt so powerless around her. But in the morning she would be someone else.
Most mornings she was gone by the time I woke up. When we did wake at the same time she would always seem so cold and distant, dressing quickly and fleeing from the loft as if she was trying to escape me. Every day I would be left to wonder if she regretted having me here. I would tell myself that this would be the last day. That I would leave tonight. But I couldn’t leave without telling her goodbye, so I would be ready for that farewell scene every night when she came home.
However, she was a completely different person at the end of the day. She would throw her arms around me as soon as she entered the door. Telling me how much she’d missed me kissing my face and neck, running her hands through my hair. I would be so lost in the pleasure of the moment that I would forget everything I had planned to say to her. And so this confusing pattern repeated itself each day.
I filled my days wandering the streets of Paris, wondering about what direction my life would take next. I felt like I was in limbo. Waiting for something, I just didn’t know what it was. I had begun painting and drawing to pass the time. Elle insisted that she didn’t mind me using the art supplies she had in the corner. Back at UCSD I had taken a variety of courses, basically anything that wouldn’t resemble the requirements for a business degree. Which had led me to take several art classes. Anything my father couldn’t easily capitalize on.
I drew from the memories of the basic art classes I had taken back home to guide me, and was surprised with how naturally it came to me. I started simple, a bowl of fruit, a vase with flowers. Then I became bored with sitting in the loft everyday painting inanimate objects. So I started carrying a sketchpad around with me and drawing the beautiful city that was my temporary home.
I mostly sketched scenery at first. The Seine River, the Eiffel Tower. But then I became interested in the faces of the people around me. I would sit in a park and try to draw the people who were lounging there. It was mostly the faces of women that drew my attention. I found myself looking for something in them, something that was missing. Something I couldn’t find. It was funny how all my sketches never quite looked like the woman I was trying to draw. I couldn’t find my muse.
I was so excited when a letter from Charlie came in the mail. It was nice to hear from someone back home. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how homesick I felt. Charlie and Claire were getting married. They wanted me to come home for the wedding.
I told Elle about it that night when she came home and I was surprised at her reaction. She wanted to come with me. I had almost expected her to be glad that I was leaving. I never knew what to expect with her changing personalities.
She seemed so excited about the prospect of coming to San Diego that I wondered if she only wanted to come along because she had never been to America. I doubted that she wanted to come just to be with me. I couldn’t refuse her request to come along. I couldn’t refuse anything when she looked at me the way she did at night.
The plane trip was long and silent. I was lost in thought, and she was the cold person again. She was so confusing. It was true that our nights were filled with passion, but I knew we didn’t love each other. The though
t of leaving Paris had crossed my mind many times, and I wasn’t even bothered by the thought of leaving her. I knew she wouldn’t be sad about losing me either.
We were living together, but we were living separate lives that only crossed paths at night. We were different people at night. She was filled with passion and I was helpless to resist driven by my overwhelming loneliness. But I often felt like she was just using me to fill some role that could have been filled by just about anybody else. There was nothing special between us. We were just two lost people using each other for companionship. But even that wasn’t enough for me anymore. I was getting restless.
My suspicions to her motives for coming along were confirmed when the plane landed. She immediately wanted me to take her around and show her all the sights. I obliged, being her tour guide just as she had been mine when we first met. She was very excited to be experiencing something new, and I did enjoy showing her around.
All of the sight seeing was also an easy excuse to put off introducing her to Charlie and Claire until the day of the wedding. For some reason I was very apprehensive about how they would react to her. Maybe I was just afraid that they would see through the façade that even I was having a hard time accepting these days.
Of course they were both very polite, I hadn’t really expected any less. Charlie winked at me suggestively when Elle wasn’t looking and I tried to ignore him. Claire smiled at her kindly, but looked at me with the concern I had anticipated. Claire had always been a very perceptive person, and she was a very good judge of character. Could she sense something was wrong between us? I didn’t have long to wonder.
“Do you love her?” Claire asked as we danced around the reception hall.
She looked very pretty in her white wedding dress. I was surprised I had been able to pull her away from Charlie when I asked to cut in.
“No.” I answered honestly.
There was no reason to lie.
“Why are you still in Paris?” she probed
