“No. Je suis Greta. Mlle Margarette est occupe. Je vous emmene a l’appartement.” Her heart-shaped face blinked with wide, green eyes, waiting to see if I comprehended. The city lights illuminated her chocolate hair, which was cut in a short bob around her long neck. My vast knowledge of French vaporized from my head. She smiled faintly with understanding. “You have long flight. Better tomorrow.”
“Thank you. You are taking me to my apartment? Vous me aider a lppartement?”
“Yes. I help. I stay in apartment too. I show you city.”
“You are my roommate?”
“No. Petite room. Une room?”
“Only one room?”
“Oui.”
“Vous vivez ene meme batiment?” Greta shrugged, uncertain of my garbled words which held a southern accent compared to her voice that sang the syllables like poetry. I followed behind to a waiting cab. “Do you live in the same building?”
“Oh. Oui.”
The cab driver flew down the freeway, passing cars faster than I could comprehend. Fatigue crashed my senses as I peered out the window glass. New and old buildings rose up from the ground and flashed by in a blur. We crossed a river and moved deeper into the city.
“You go to the university too?”
“Oui. I am second year.”
“The tower?” I asked Greta, feeling the shame of knowing the question sounded like a tourist. I knew the apartment and university resided close to Champ de Mars. I needed to see the one place that would make everything feel grounded.
“Oui.” She turned to the driver and rambled off a sling of sentences that flowed like a beautiful song. As far as I knew, she just cursed him out with the voice of an angel. The cab whipped by pedestrians and turned corners on two wheels. Hitting the breaks, a squeal echoed as I fell forward against the back of the seat.
“You ten minutes.”
“Merci.”
Stretching my long legs, I ran past the visitors with maps and little packs fastened around the waist. I knew the spot from years of conjured up memories. The lone bench rested just off the sidewalk. The last few steps made my lungs constrict in breathless spasms. I sat down, feeling the hard metal beneath my legs. Staring out toward the tower, I did the one thing I always wanted but could never do with the poster in my room. I turned around to see the view from the other side of that little bench.
Chapter 40
Today, 5:36 a.m.
A tap on the glass causes the bruised heart in my chest to lurch right through the fabric of my shirt. I see a pair of hazel eyes smash right into the dark tint, searching for their prey. Sadie. Clicking the release button, I give my friend access to the sealed up truck.
“What is that horrific smell?” Sadie spat as she hikes a tiny leg up into the driver’s seat. Even in the middle of the night, she wore a designer pair of crisp jeans and tan high heels.
“Sorry. I threw up.”
“Did you eat a decomposed carcass of some road animal? It is positively disgusting out there. And humid. Why does it feel like the steam room of Bontegia?”
“Bontegia?” I smile. My lips curve just enough on the edges I would like to think it qualifies as a true smile.
“Oh, sweetie.” Her green eyes reflect back in the same shade as her silk tank top. “We have discussed Bontegia. The holistic gym with the focus on the mind, body and spirit. Remember? You called it a ridiculous use of my over-indulgent expense account.”
“That sounds familiar.” I really do smile that time. “You’re early. I thought it would be close to nine?”
She reaches over and threads her fingers between mine. I wait for her to insult my chipped nail polish. “I cashed in a favor from someone I can’t mention. So I arrived in style in my own private jet.”
“Wasted that one on me?”
“Just for you, sweetie.”
“Thank you.”
I had asked Sadie once why she decided I was worth her time. Every moment of every second of her day came in a detailed plan, usually established weeks or months or years in advance. I asked my question before our senior year. Sadie had pursed her lips in a tiny bow before answering. Sweetie, you seem to need a friend more than an enemy and I am either one or the other.
“Ok. Now that I am officially in Texas, I refuse to let you stay in this dreary parking lot. No more hiding. Time to step over the vomit and march inside that ghastly place. You have to see him at some point.”
“I know.” The raw pain scraps in my throat. “Will you go with me?”
A brief look of fear appears on her beautiful face, and then quickly dissolves into her ever-present confidence. “Yes. I can go with you, sweetie.”
“Thank you.”
I climb across the console to exit from the driver’s side to avoid the mess by the door. We cross the parking lot to the revolving entrance. She links an arm through the crook of my elbow. I notice the enormous shoes propping up the tiny person. I notice the orange streaks as they come around the buildings. The light at the end of the tunnel, I suppose, to those looking for that sort of omen.
“I accepted the position in DC. I had every intention of calling you tomorrow. Well, I guess that is today now, isn’t it. Maybe you should come for a visit. Get away for a bit. The winter will be horrendous compared to here. But you could stay indefinitely. How does that sound?”
Her green eyes cut toward my sullen face. She fails to offer a smile with the invite. I fail to acknowledge the underlying meaning to her words.
Chapter 41
When I was twenty-four…
Today was my birthday. Sitting at table with Greta and two other students, I sipped a glass of Syrah. We chatted back and forth in easy conversation, all being in French. It was beautiful underneath the lights of the city. It was beautiful in so many different ways. I laughed at a story told by Hanna Prescott. She was another American who was in the program with me. We traveled together sometimes. Hanna and Greta were good, decent people; nothing like the Dutch’s and Darcy’s of the world.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Taking out the little box, I smiled at the words on the screen, feeling the warmth spread through my chest.
Happy Birthday Alex!
I still thought about him every day. I thought about him and it was ok. I didn’t fall down in a puddle of tears and misery. I didn’t drink myself into oblivion or dream of slitting my wrists.
You remembered my birthday.
I remembered.
We talked occasionally; never for very long and never about anything of much importance. Jess and I were both busy in our new lives. I think we finally reached a place of comfortable existence. We could talk and it was ok. We could not talk and still survive.
Thank you.
Are you having a party or something?
Yes.
Have fun. Good night Alex.
I looked back up at my friends around the table, celebrating my birthday. Hanna poured more wine in my glass. Reaching forward, I clinked the crystal against the others. The sound echoed under the sparkling lights. I was here and he was there; each choosing a different fork in the road, each learning to breathe on our own, seven time zones apart.
Good morning Jess.
Chapter 42
When I was twenty-five…
I rolled down the windows of the rented Hyundai, the moment the tires touched the dirt road. They went down on all four doors as if the mere presence of Arlis willed them into submission. Feeling the air whip through my hair, I reached for the radio knob to switch stations. My hand froze in mid stride hearing the deep voice of Jason Aldean. I smiled, imagining Jess flying down this very road listening to the twangy voice sing about some tractor. I’m sure he loved this one. I wondered if he could hear it right now; our lives parallel once more in the world.
Looking up through the front glass, I saw the vacant farmhouse under the half moon. My father and Caroline had gone to Abilene to visit her cousin. They would return in the morning, just in time for the Mason’s Thanksgiving dinner spectacle.