By Kelly Gombert
This is her first chapter of a recurring story.
This is her second recurring story with us
“No, I’m here.” He released her. “Let’s not do that again,” and they both got out their phones. “Are you OK?” he said.
“No real damage done.” She showed him the knife wound to the faux leather. “Expensive pick-pocket-proof purse. Money well spent. Well, my mother’s money well spent. I’m just rattled about being yanked from the train. But I’m OK. I am glad you’re here though. Makes me feel better.”
“Let’s get a drink somewhere.” Ian put his arm around her as they exited the station. They sat down at a table at Le Passy and ordered wine.
“Rome wasn’t on my itinerary precisely because I heard the pick-pockets there are relentless. But now I’ve got a story to tell. And I’m all about telling stories. Fodder for my writing.”
“What are you writing?”
“Well, right now I write blog entries about my travels for my ten followers and maybe someday, if I get enough material together, I’ll convert it to a book to sell for no-one to read. I don’t know. I have that dreaded writer’s disease, procrastination. It’s crippling. I don’t recommend it. One star. And you, what is your passion?”
“Passion? I really haven’t thought about passion. I’m good at designing places and my father is an architect. I just always thought I would follow in the family business, you know.”
“There’s more to it than that or you wouldn’t be here. You didn’t have to come to Paris to study. You could have stayed in Ohio. What brought you here?” She picked up her Moscato and sipped.
“I kind of felt like this is my last opportunity to be free, I guess. After this, my life is all planned out. I’ll do my internship and then work in the family firm. Get married, settle down, work for 40 years, retire. I thought, studying abroad, I could do what I want, do something different, not just what is expected of me. I took a life drawing class. Nude models.” He leaned in. “Don’t tell my mother. I do like what I do and I’m good at it. I’m looking forward to making a difference, an impact. I doubt I’ll ever get my name on a building like Hector Guimard or be famous like I.M. Pei but someone will walk into a house I designed someday and it will be exactly what they want and that will be cool.”
“I’m sure it will be. That’s great, to have a plan, know where you are going. I don’t have anything planned after next weekend. Like for the rest of my life, no plans. I figure that something’s going to turn up, like a signal flare, that says ‘OK, This, this is what you need to do.’ I’ve been looking for that flare for 6 months now. Black skies so far. Oh, I can go back to the states, find a job in insurance or retail, anything to pay bills, get stuck in a rut, live my life in a hamster wheel, never going anywhere. There’s got to be another option.” She drained her glass. “That’s depressing and I don’t want to think about it. Instead, I’m going to gather up a lifetime of experiences until my money runs out.”
“What about your family? Can’t they help you?”
“You know what? Time’s slipping away and I haven’t seen the Arc de Triomphe yet. Are you coming?” She stood up.
“You don’t want to talk about your family.”
“I don’t want to talk about my family.”
“OK, I get it.” They paid the bill and went back to the metro station. He interlocked his fingers with hers and pulled her arm in close to his body. “Let’s not get separated this time.”
They visited the Arc de Triomph, walked down the Champs-Élysées. Another metro ride and they were on the Île de la Cité, standing in front of the Notre Dame Cathedral with their feet on the Paris Point Zero marker. Most of the tourists had gone as the Cathedral had closed its doors for the night, although there were still a few milling about.
“There is a tradition that if you spin around on one foot on this marker, you will be granted your heart’s desire,” Ian told her.
“Oh, you made that up.”
“No, it’s true. Well, I read it on Atlas Obscura. Wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”
She lightly pushed him aside and spun. “So, when do I get my wish?”
“The instructions are a bit vague on that point, I’m afraid.”
She stepped off and said, “Your turn.” He dutifully obeyed her command putting his fingers on the top of his head during his pirouette. Jess laughed.
