One Week in Paris

by Roya Carmen

I am too. It’s like a punch in the gut. When did he plan this? Last night, after we had sex. Or just now?

  As if he can read my mind, he elaborates. “Sophie just texted. She says she has plans for us. Not sure what they are, though.”

  I down my orange juice and avoid his gaze. “Let’s see what Matt’s up to,” I tell Mom. “We should invite him.”

  Yes, two can play that game.

  She lightens up. “Yes, that’s a great idea. Mark can’t make it, unfortunately. He has plans with an old colleague.”

  I’m sure he does. An old colleague, my ass. What a devious jerk.

  We really need to get moving on this plan. Stat.

  When I glance at Oscar, he stands abruptly, his mouth a hard line. “Well, that was great, Florence. Thank you.” He brings his dishes to the sink. “I’m gonna have a shower. Let me know when you’re done. I’ll clean up.”

  Mom smiles. “Thank you, Oscar.” She turns to me. “He’s sweet, that one.”

  I roll my eyes and grab my plate. “If you say so.”

  21

  WE MEET UP WITH MATT near our place. He’s also staying in the first arrondissement, the center of it all. If Paris were a jelly donut, we’d be the jelly.

  Matt is looking amazing today, very European. He’s wearing black pants and a long black suede jacket, topped with a red scarf — he fits right in. Suddenly, I feel underdressed in my leggings and sneakers. He hugs us both and smells delicious.

  We take the metro, and after a few false turns, we finally reach our destination. It’s not until we get there that we discover that Matt has been pickpocketed. He’s livid, and I feel so bad, since I’m the one who dragged him with us.

  The metros here are so cool; vintage-like signs, ultra-modern colorful seats, and gorgeous murals. As we climb up the stairs out of the metro, I’m momentarily distracted by the exquisite vivid paintings lining the walls.

  We take a ride up on the funicular, a kind of escalator/elevator hybrid which travels up the many stairs. It’s crowded but so much fun, and I’m just happy we don’t have to walk up all those stairs. Matt is not in a good mood — I don’t blame him. I’d be pissed too. Thankfully, he still has his phone, and he’s busy making calls to his credit card companies. Luckily, his passport is safe, back at his rental.

  Since Mom really wants to see the famous Sacré Coeur Basilica, we do the tourist thing and head up there. The basilica is stunning, just like Notre Dame, and the view of Paris is to die for. At one point, the crowd separates in a frenzy as a chase goes down. Local police are running down some hooligans. Gypsies, I’m told.

  It’s super exciting. Who knew Paris was so crime-ridden. “Probably the same thieves who stole my wallet,” Matt says with a smirk. He seems to be in a better mood.

  “Everything okay?”

  “It’s all good,” he tells me. “I made all my calls. It’s just a wallet. It’s not my life. Or yours.”

  I smile up at him. “You make an excellent point.”

  “Why don’t we all take a walk down the trail?” Antoine suggests.

  Mom has met another local man, and is walking up ahead of us, smiling and chatting with him and Antoine.

  Matt smiles. “Frenchmen really seem to like your mom.”

  I laugh. “True. And she doesn’t speak a single word of French.”

  “Well, she is quite beautiful.” He turns to me, and shoots me a sweet smile. “Just like her daughter.”

  I blush like an idiot. You’d think it was the first compliment I’ve ever received.

  “I missed you yesterday,” he goes on. “You still owe me a second date.”

  I smile. “I do. Where shall we go?”

  His phone dings.

  “It’s a text from Nicole,” he tells me. “She’s with Mark right now at the place des Vosges.”

  “Where is that?”

  “It’s in les Marais,” he tells me, like he’s a local. “It’s right between the third and fourth. It’s a walkway, an old square of covered arches. Gardens, cafés and shops. Perfect for rainy days.”

  “Sounds like you know your way around Paris.”

  He smiles. “I lived here for a year,” he tells me. “Can you tell that I don’t know much French though?” he jokes.

  He taps away swiftly on his phone. “I’m going to get her to take him to the courtyard, and be there for one o’clock. We’ll have to get our butts over there, but that’s not for a good hour. Plenty of time.”

  I check my watch. “It’s about time for lunch.”

  “How about we tell your mom there’s a little place at Place des Vosges where the crêpes are fantastic… there actually is. We set out to go there, make sure we walk by the pavilion at one o’clock.”

  “We go to the pavilion before lunch?”

  “Yeah, lunch will have to be after.”

  “I’m kind of starving, and I’m sure my mom is too,” I point out. “Once we catch Mark in the act, she’ll be devastated and we won’t get to eat at all.”

  He chews on his bottom lip while he mulls this over. “I’ll go buy us some snacks to tide us over.”

  “Sounds good,” I tell him as Mom and Antoine walk back to us. I tell them all about our lunch plans. At first, Mom seems reluctant, but once Matt waxes lyrical about the crêpes, she’s in. Antoine tells us he’s going to stay behind.

  I’ve suddenly lost my appetite — there’s a heavy lump lodged at the pit of my stomach. I feel horrible about all this, but it really is for the best. Mark is such a slime ball —she needs to see it with her own eyes.

  I quickly check my phone as we head to les Marais, all the while munching on the granola bar Matt has bought me. I tell myself I don’t care about Oscar. I tell myself he can go die in a hole, for all I care. Yet… my heart sinks when there are no texts from him. He usually texts me multiple times a day, and it makes me feel a little empty.

  There’s a text from Deanna, the woman who is teaching my classes for me.

  Everything is great, Kayla. The new routine is a killer. Everyone’s having a hard time with it, but by the time you’re back, they’ll be pros. You’re welcome. : )

  I smile at Gabbie’s text.

  Hey, Kayla. I hope you’re having a great time in Paris. Mitzy and Nellie are great. They get along famously. What a gorgeous cat!! So easy-going too.

  She’s obviously talking about Nellie, because my Mitzy is a little high-strung, short-haired, hazel-eyed, obese, and very orange. Sometimes, I call her Garfield. On the other hand, Nellie is the supermodel of cats, the kind you see in Fancy Feast commercials. Her eyes are as blue as the sky. Her fur is as soft as a bunny’s.

  I tell myself I need to share this with Oscar because he’s been really worried about his cat. But really, I’m just looking for any pretext to contact him.

  Gabbie just sent me a text. Mitzy and Nellie are doing great. Getting along! Bye. :)

  His reply comes swiftly, but it hurts because it’s curt and formal; only two words.

  Thank you.

  That’s just not like him. I usually get a funny joke, a pun, a funny picture or meme. Xs and Os, happy faces and winks. I wonder if he’s having a good time with Sophie. I wonder if they’ve slept together yet, if she’s taken him back to her apartment near the Sorbonne. Are French women faster than us? Well, I’m positive that he wasn’t having sex just now, or he would have never taken the time to reply. It was only two words, but it was something.

  I hate this.

  We’ve reached our destination. It’s a gorgeous day in Paris, yet, I feel really depressed. What a waste. I shake my head and tell myself to forget all about Oscar, and just enjoy myself.

  But there’s also the fact that I’m about to break my mother’s heart.

  Place des Vosges is absolutely gorgeous. I’m not surprised because everything in Paris is beautiful. Well, perhaps, not the dog poop on the sidewalks.

  Brick and stone surrounds us. Symmetry and perfection. Lovely shops. Locals and tourists walk under the high c
overed arches. I check my watch as we make our way to the courtyard Matt mentioned. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer. I glance at Mom, who is all smiles, and I know that’s about to change very soon.

  “Let’s go eat,” she cheers. “I’m famished.”

  “Wait,” Matt says. “Let’s just head to the courtyard first. It’s amazing and I absolutely want to show you. We can snap a few pics.”

  “Oh… okay,” Mom concedes. “Okay but, then we eat right after.”

  The place is very green; a myriad of stately trees, vines of ivy lining the brick facades of the pavilion, a beautiful fountain is the pièce de résistance at its center. Lots of people are walking around, some snapping photos and selfies, some walking, and some kissing. I didn’t expect so many people. I search for Mark and Nicole in the crowd. It’s like looking for Waldo.

  “Did she tell you what she was wearing?” I ask Matt in hushed tones.

  He shakes his head, his brows furrowed. He’s looking for them too.

  “Wow, this is beautiful,” Mom says.

  “Uh… yes… sure is,” I falter. “Let’s walk around.”

  She pulls out her phone. “Wait… I want to take a picture.”

  My gaze darts around, and I finally spot them, far in the distance. She’s wearing a black coat, and so is he. No wonder they were so hard to spot. She’s standing very close to him, and the sight of them is incriminating — they look like more than friends.

  This is it.

  I’m waiting for them to kiss.

  A wave of nausea hits me, and I suddenly want to vomit.

  I stare down at the cobblestones under my feet. I don’t want to do this.

  I’ve changed my mind.

  22

  “OH, LOOK WHO’S HERE,” Matt cheers. “What a small world it is.”

  I look up to see a small Asian woman walk up to Nicole and hand her her phone. Nicole is friendly and takes the woman’s phone. Mark looks extremely annoyed.

  Mom looks up, and spots him. “Oh my, Mark,” she blurts out. “What in the heavens is he doing here?”

  We quickly scurry over to them, and when Mark spots us, he’s clearly shaken, but sure enough, like the player he is, he quickly recovers his composure. “Darling,” he says sweetly as he walks over to my mother and embraces her. “Look who I’ve run into,” he says. “Nicole. What a small world.”

  Mom is both speechless and stunned, and seems very confused.

  “Uh… yes,” Nicole chimes in. “I just love this place. I always come here. It is such a nice place to walk and think.”

  “What are you doing here?” Mom asks Mark. “I thought you had a lunch meeting with a colleague.”

  “I did,” he says. “It was here. My colleague lives in the area. When I left him, I decided to go for a stroll and ran into Nicole.”

  I can’t help but roll my eyes like a teenager. What a bunch of crock.

  She inches closer and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Well, I’m glad to see you.”

  A tight smile stretches across his face as he kisses her back. Nicole looks completely discouraged — we were so close.

  I wonder if Mark will be suspicious now. It’s pretty odd that we should run into him like this. There are millions of people in this city and thousands of locations. The whole plan is probably shot.

  “So nice to run into you again,” I say to Nicole, keeping up the ruse. “We didn’t get to spend enough time together last night. Why don’t you come to dinner with us tonight? It’s the rehearsal dinner.”

  Mark chimes in. “Uh… I don’t think—”

  “Nicole is a good friend, and now I never get to see her,” I tell them, and shoot my mom one of those surefire looks I used to when I was a kid — it pretty much got me anything I wanted.

  “One more… I don’t see the problem,” she says to Mark.

  Mark is in a tricky spot. If he objects too much, he’ll seem cranky, and he’ll also look suspicious. I can practically see the gears turn in his little devious perverted slime ball brain.

  He smiles widely. “The more the merrier.”

  “Well, I’d love to stick around,” Mom says, “but we were just heading to go eat the most delicious crêpes in Paris, and I’m absolutely starving.”

  Mark smiles and kisses her goodbye. I bet he can’t wait to get back to his cheating ways.

  I shake my head. “Let’s go eat.”

  I’m not hungry anymore. The strawberry and custard crêpes are good, but not as good as they should be. Matt passes me his phone under the table. Nicole has sent him a text.

  I got away from him after you left. I told him I had a meeting for work. He still wants to meet with me tonight at the dinner. He is one horny bastard. : )

  “These are delicious,” Mom says as she enjoys her last bite of crêpe. She wipes her mouth with the linen napkin. “I need to head to the little girl’s room. I’ve been needing to pee forever.”

  As soon as she walks away, I ask Matt, “So, do you think it could still work?”

  “It better. We’re running out of time.”

  “What’s the deal with Nicole?” I ask. “Why is she helping us?”

  “She’s divorced. Her husband was a cheating bastard. And ever since, she loves to hook married men and destroy their lives.”

  “Oh my God,” I blurt out. “That’s so messed up.”

  “I know. She’s like a praying mantis. But instead of killing them after sex, she kills their marriages.”

  “Well, they kind of deserve it,” I point out. “The cheating bastards.”

  “Yeah, but they also have families, and she doesn’t seem to care about that.”

  “True. At least there are no kids in this case.”

  “There’s a reason why she is the way she is,” he explains. “Her dad cheated on her mom too, and destroyed their family. What she really needs is a very good therapist.”

  I feel bad for Nicole. I can relate. My dad was a cheating asshole too. I know it’s the reason why I’m so afraid of relationships. I’m afraid of getting hurt like my mother did. “I think we all need therapists.”

  He laughs. “Ain’t that the truth?”

  He shoots me a wink, and it makes me blush again. “You still owe me a date,” he says. “When can I cash in?”

  Before I have time to answer him, Mom swoops back in. “The toilets are so small and quaint,” she says as she settles back down at the table. “Pretty flowers everywhere.”

  “Well, we are in Paris,” Matt says and lifts his glass of wine. Wine with crêpes in the afternoon — only in Paris.

  I’m wearing nothing but an oversized sleeping shirt, and hoping Oscar will notice. But he doesn’t. He must really be into this Sophie girl. Who could blame him? She’s beautiful, sexy, French and young, everything a man could want. I’m not usually the jealous type, but just thinking about her makes me want to crawl out of my skin, and go live another life, one without Oscar and Sophie.

  Oscar is getting dressed. He’s selected the slim fit grey khakis for tonight — my favorite. Every time he wears those, I just want to rip them off him. And he knows it too. I bet he’s wearing them on purpose to irritate me. Or perhaps, he just wants Sophie to rip them off.

  I can’t stand it. Jealousy is a very annoying emotion.

  “So you really like that Sophie girl,” I say. I am so transparent and shameless.

  He turns and smiles at me. “I do.”

  “So… you and her. Did you… yet?” I ask casually, but I’m dying inside. I’m dying to know. I know I’ll be crushed if he says yes.

  He turns to me again, still shirtless. That boxer’s body will be the end of me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  I pout. “You’re not going to tell me?” I ask. “You kind of need to, Oscar. Since we’re also sleeping together. You know that’s the rule.”

  It is the rule. I’m not making this up. Part of our arrangement is that we tell each other if new sexual partners are in the mix. It’s for health rea
sons. And so far, neither one of us has ventured outside our arrangement. In over three years!

  He closes the distance between us, and sits next to me on the big fluffy bed. “We haven’t,” he tells me. “We’ve only fooled around, but I can’t tell you that won’t change tonight, or tomorrow.”

  My heart sinks. “Well, you are free to do what you want to do.” I look him straight in the eye. “And so am I. Just be safe.”

  “I know,” he says, and bounces off the bed. End of discussion. I study the curve of his back as he slips his shirt on.

  Sigh.

  Well, as much as I’ve wanted to avoid this night, it’s coming soon and I need to face it head on. The rehearsal dinner is something I was originally looking forward to — Mark has reserved a private room in the dining room of the very luxurious Hotel Plaza Athénée, as well as a large private suite for the evening following. I’ve been Googling the venue and counting the days; luxury, spectacular views, and delicious food.

  Yet now, I really wish I didn’t have to go. I wish it could go by without me having to live through it — maybe I should drink myself into a stupor. First, I’ll have to suffer the sight of Oscar and Sophie, rubbing their new found attraction in my face. And second, if all goes well, I’ll have to witness my mom’s heart being shattered in an instant, the moment she finally catches Mark in the act and realizes what a slime ball he really is.

  I rummage through my clothes, hung in the lovely antique armoire in our room. Oscar is long gone, and it’s just me, standing in front of the tall freestanding mirror. I lay the sheer pink chiffon dress against my chest — the color suits my fair complexion and long dark hair. I’ve also packed crushed pink velvet heels with a black ankle ribbon accent. Both bought at Forever 21 — it’s all I can afford. That, and thrift store finds. I miss the days when I lived with my mom, and I didn’t need to worry about things like rent, car expenses, and insurance. Not to mention, the small fortune I spend at Whole Foods.