When the Heart Falls

"Too lazy. Sorry."

"I found an architecture contest for you to enter." She hands me a piece of paper.

I take the application, but don't read it. "Thanks, but I'm not ready."

"Of course you are. I've seen your work. You're brilliant."

I set it on the dresser next to the bed. "Not as brilliant as you think. Trust me. I'm the one studying this stuff."

A few minutes later she hands me another sheet of paper. "How about this one? It's only for students."

"Cause the pros are too good."

Now she's cocking her hip to one side, her skirt hiking up a fraction. "Don't be like that. If you win, you'll make some good money. And once we save up, we can get a place together."

"I can't enter," I explain. "I'm a novice."

"You studied."

"General Ed."

She points at me. "And on your own time."

"My dad didn't exactly encourage my pursuits."

Her mouth puckers in frustration. "It doesn't hurt to try."

I skim the application. "It costs money to enter."

"Then I'll pay," she says.

"No. You won't.” I crumple up the paper and throw it in the trash.

"You should recycle."

"Dag nab it." I retrieve the application and toss it into recycling.

She slides back into bed on her knees, her cleavage tempting. "You know, things do work out sometimes. Good things do happen."

"I don't deserve good things. I don't deserve you."

"Of course not." She grins.

I reach for her. "But I want you."

She pulls away, wagging her finger with a teasing smile. "Better start folding cranes."



Winter's warm body next to me is the first thing I notice when I wake the next morning. "Howdy."

She looks up from her laptop, a beautiful smile on her face. "I finished my rewrite."

I shift and sit up, ignoring the desire to throw her computer off the bed and reenact the dream I was just having of her. "Let me read."

"Later. I'm sending it to Monsieur Bellugue first."

"Is he my competition?"

Winter kisses me, and I taste her toothpaste. "You have none," she says.

"Let's go on a road trip,” I say, the idea sudden and perfect. “We can travel over Northern France and fill these days with memories, amazing memories, wonderful memories. And then, when we think back on this time, we'll remember a lifetime of adventure. And we'll never forget." And if this is all we have, if all of our planning doesn’t lead to the outcome we want, then we’ll have this, and it will be the best memories of our lives.

She smiles, no longer shy about her nakedness around me. "Let's go.” She puts down her laptop and leans over me, her breasts grazing my chest and making other parts of my body stand at attention. She notices and kisses me again. “We need more memories together."

There’s a hint of sadness in her voice. Is she as confident as she seems about our future, or, like me, does she worry that despite our best intentions, some things are too amazing to last?

The morning is bright, sun high, with a cool breeze coming from the ocean, as we set out on our adventure. Once we figure out the logistics of renting a car, and driving on the wrong side of the road—nothing like a near-death experience to bring two lovers closer—we head out to our first destination: Chateau de La Ballue, famous gardens first created for writers and artists.

Winter, while reading the brochure, keeps shoving it at me, her finger pointing to yet another exciting bit of information. "Did you see this part? Futuristic architects designed the side garden in the purest mannerist style. I don't know what it means, but it sounds cool. You should be a futuristic architect. That's awesome. You can design the future."

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and amusing. "Futuristic architecture is an early 20th century form of architecture first developed in Italy. It eschews more historical styles and instead focuses on long dynamic lines that suggest speed, motion, urgency and lyricism. It was a popular style for poets, musicians and artists, thus the origination of La Ballue gardens."

She looks around, taking in geometric shapes carved from the garden itself. "It's so different from what we've seen so far, I can see why it's considered futuristic." Reading more of her brochure, she jumps up and down like a little kid. "There's a maze. The Maze of Leaves. We have to go through it! We can race and see who gets to the end first."