Sleeping with Paris

by Juliette Sobanet

  Regardless, I had to fix this. I couldn’t let that woman ruin everything for me.

  I looked Marc in the eye. “Marc, I’m so, terribly sorry. I had no idea she was your mom, and I should never have said all of those horrible things about her. I normally don’t talk like that about people. I’m sure she’s a wonderful mother. I just had a bad first meeting with her, that’s all. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know you did not know. But if you have such a hatred for my mother, I am not sure if you will want to work with me.”

  “Hatred? I don’t hate her, Marc. We just haven’t gotten along that well, that’s all.” God, I hoped he was buying this. “But I know it will get better. I definitely want to continue working with you, if you still want to work with me, that is.”

  “I don’t know. I do not want to be in the middle of you and my mother. I do understand how she can be though . . . I grew up with her, you know. She is a very strict woman. She has a long reputation at zee Sorbonne . . . and sadly, it is not always good. Even still, I am quite close with her.”

  How could he be close with her? He was so sweet. So normal. And she was so strict and mean. But it wasn’t his fault she was like that. Plus, I genuinely liked him.

  “You won’t be in the middle. You don’t even have to tell her you know me.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. That freaking woman!

  Marc stared up at the wispy tree leaves above us and squinted in the sunlight. When he lowered his gaze back to mine, I noticed the warmth in his eyes had returned.

  “I have tried so hard to find an English tutor, and each one of them has been weird and difficult to speak with. I feel comfortable with you, so maybe we can try to have a lesson today and forget about my mother.”

  Whew. “That sounds wonderful, Marc.”

  I was amazed that Marc was still able to be decent to me after I’d just verbally trashed his mom. He must’ve been adopted. There was just no way that he came from her.

  Despite our rough start, Marc and I found out that we had a lot in common, which gave us more than enough topics to cover during our first lesson. We chatted about Lyon, about growing up as only children, about his plans to become a pediatrician, and thankfully didn’t speak another word about his mother. He was really easy to talk to and open to corrections, which made him great to work with. After a little over an hour of talking, he needed to head back to his place to get some studying done, so we planned to meet a few days later back at the park to pick up where we left off.

  As I walked back to my dorm, I tried to remember the exact words I’d used to describe Madame Rousseau to Marc. As my furious rant came back to me, I felt mortified. Marc was actually someone I could see myself being friends with. I hadn’t had a solid male friend in a while.

  How was it though that I would meet Madame Rousseau’s one and only son? She must’ve had an immaculate conception, because I could not imagine any man getting into bed with her. Ugh. That was not a mental image I had any desire to conjure up.

  Back in my room, I tried to distract myself from the thought of Madame Rousseau procreating and my horrible start with Marc by checking my email. I saw the usual ones from my mom and Katie and then a new one from my friend Hannah with “Bridesmaids” written in the subject line. My stomach churned as I remembered that Hannah’s wedding to Mike, Jeff’s best friend from law school, was coming up this spring. It was Hannah who had first introduced me to Jeff, at her engagement party last year.

  After that night, my story changed. Instead of being an eternal dating bachelorette, I was going to be the girl who had met the love of her life a few years after college, traveled the world with her handsome husband, had a couple of kids, and lived happily ever after. But in the blink of an eye, my happily ever after had turned into unhappily ever after. My prince charming had turned out to be a lying, cheating, filthy piece of crap. Ugh.

  I closed my eyes and shook away the memories. I’d been so consumed with my issues that I had completely forgotten about my bridesmaid commitment. I opened her email to find an exhaustive bridesmaid to-do list complete with dress ordering instructions, detailed descriptions of the shoes and jewelry she wanted us to wear, as well as a possible timeline for the big wedding weekend which would be held in April, back in DC. Hannah was one of my closer friends from Georgetown, but I hadn’t heard much from her since I’d arrived in Paris. I knew she was busy planning the wedding, and truthfully I didn’t want to talk to her that much since I knew that she and Mike probably still hung out with Jeff. How either of them could still stand the sight of him after knowing what he had done was beyond me, but I figured I should give her the benefit of the doubt and call her to talk things over.

  “Hannah?”

  “Oh my gosh, Charlotte! How are you? How’s Paris? I’m so sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’ve been going out of my mind planning this wedding! I mean, we’ve had the longest engagement ever, but you know me . . . always procrastinating. Now I’m scrambling to get it all booked in time.” Hannah had a way of babbling really quickly on the phone so that it was hard to get a word in edgewise.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure it will all come together. I just got your email about all of the bridesmaid stuff, so I’ll make sure to get on it.”

  “Oh, thank you! I didn’t mean to come off as a crazy bridezilla in the email, I just want everything to be perfect, you know?”

  I did know. I had felt the same way when I had envisioned my wedding to Jeff. We had also decided to have a long engagement and were planning on getting married after we got back from Paris. But just because I hadn’t actually booked the church or the reception hall yet didn’t mean that I didn’t have it all perfectly planned out in my head.

  “No, I completely understand, so just let me know what you need me to do and it’s done, okay?”

  “Thanks, you’re a doll. So, how are things? Are you doing okay since . . . you know, since everything happened?”

  I didn’t want Hannah to know how much Jeff had really hurt me. Even though she was one of my close friends, it could get back to Jeff. So, I tried to play it cool. “Yeah, you know, of course it sucked, but Jeff just wasn’t the right one for me in the end.”

  “So, you’re really doing okay then? Have you met anyone new?”

  “Yeah, I’ve met a few nice guys over here.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that, Charlotte . . .” she paused hesitantly. “So you won’t mind then that Jeff’s still in the wedding?”

  “What? Well, I mean I knew he would be there of course, but I didn’t think that after what he did to me that you, or Mike, would actually keep him in the wedding,” I said as I tried to keep the shrillness out of my voice.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I tried to convince Mike to leave Jeff out of the wedding party because I knew it would be awful for you, but we ended up having a huge fight about it. Even though Jeff cheated on you, he’s still Mike’s best friend, and Mike isn’t going to budge. Plus, it sounds like you’re moving on, so maybe it won’t be that bad in the end.” Hannah was so naïve. She was the sweetest, most wholesome girl I knew and had never been cheated on (well, to her knowledge anyway—hopefully Mike wasn’t as big of a scumbag as Jeff).

  “Yes, I’m moving on. But Hannah, we were engaged to be married, and we were about to move to Paris, and he cheated on me! What if that happened to you? What if you had this whole wedding planned and you found out that Mike was sleeping with another woman?”

  Hannah was quiet for a moment. “I would be devastated.”

  “And what if I married Jeff and we had Mike in the wedding so you had to see him and hang out with him all weekend and have the whole embarrassing situation shoved back in your face in front of all of your friends?”

  Hannah stayed quiet for a few more seconds before speaking. “I know this is going to be hard for you Charlotte, but it’s not my fault that Jeff cheated on you. And I can’t help the fact that Jeff is Mike’s best friend. He’s going to be there, but I need you he
re for me. You can totally ignore him all weekend. Just focus on me and seeing all of the girls again. We really miss you.”

  Hannah was right—I was freaking out at the wrong person. As much as I wanted her to kick Jeff out of their lives, or at least out of their wedding, she was stuck in a tricky situation.

  “Is he bringing a date?” I asked.

  “I really don’t know.”

  “Is he still seeing that girl, Brooke?”

  “This isn’t going to help you get over him. I think we should change the subject.”

  “Hannah, I’m coming to the wedding, and I’ll calm down . . . I’m sorry. It’s not until April anyway, so I’m sure things will be even better by then. But please, just tell me, is he still with that girl?”

  She paused for a long time. “I think so.”

  I suddenly felt so defeated that my body went limp, and I could almost hear my heart dropping to the floor.

  “So, tell me more about Paris, don’t you just love it?” Hannah made her best effort at changing the subject, but I wasn’t in the mood to chitchat anymore.

  “Hey, listen, I actually have to run. I have a date tonight, and I have to hop in the shower so I’m not late.” I didn’t have a date, but I didn’t want her to go blabbing to Mike about what a maniac I was on the phone. I just needed to go.

  “Oh, that’s great! Well, have fun and we’ll be in touch over email . . .” She paused and then sighed into the phone. “I’m sorry Charlotte, please don’t be mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad at you . . . I just need to get going, alright?”

  “Okay.” Hannah’s voice dropped.

  “I’ll talk to you soon though, bye.” I hung up the phone without giving her a chance to say goodbye and instantly felt the tears welling up.

  Damn him.

  I thought I was getting over my broken engagement. But hearing that Jeff was actually still with Brooke brought all of those unbearable feelings back to the surface.

  I’d thought I’d found my soul mate in Jeff, but he clearly had never loved me the way I’d loved him. Had I been nothing more than a means to an end? The catalyst in helping Jeff to find Brooke, his true soul-mate?

  What if I never found anyone I loved as much as him? What if I was destined to be single and alone forever? Because, at this point, with my insides ripping to shreds just at the mention of his name, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to truly give my heart over to another man.

  As my tears transformed to anger, and I wondered how I would face Jeff and Brooke together at the wedding, I threw on my running clothes, raced outside, and sprinted like a mad-woman around the park. I silently cursed all of the dying couples who had invaded the tranquil space in the last half-hour since I’d been there with Marc. On every bench I passed, they were kissing, groping and cooing at each other with serious, dramatic looks on their faces.

  I diverted my eyes and focused on the dirt path ahead while the pounding of my feet echoed throughout my tired, beaten-down body.

  Once my lungs were sufficiently deflated, I collapsed in the grass, gasping for breath. I stared up at the dark gray clouds that pushed their way through the sky, blocking the sun and darkening the world with their heaviness, and wondered when, or if, I would stop caring about Jeff.

  In that moment, I felt as if all the effort I’d made to move on with my life in Paris had been for nothing. Had meeting other guys and attempting to date like a man really gotten me anywhere? I was right back where I started, feeling lonely, desperate and broken-hearted.

  What was I doing here? And would I really be able to pull it together in time to be there for Hannah at her wedding?

  As large, chilling drops of rain fell from the sky and pelted my hot skin, I peeled myself up off the grass and hobbled across the street to my dorm. I lowered my eyes to the ground as the rain blew through me in sheets. I couldn’t bear to see even one more happy couple, their eyes gleaming and their cheeks all rosy as they trotted through the rain, smashing their bodies up against each other underneath their miniature umbrellas.

  Back in my room, I sank down into my bed, wrapped a blanket around my drenched shoulders, and pulled my computer onto my lap so I could sign into my blog. I had to do something to pull myself out of this funk.

  I was shocked to find that I suddenly had hundreds of hits. I scrolled through the long list of comments and saw Lexi’s name at the bottom. She wrote: “Girl, I love your blog. Every woman needs to read this. I forwarded it to everyone I know. I’ll see your hot ass soon!”

  Wow. Good thing I met Lexi. Now I really could help tons of women going through this dating mess. I began typing:

  Rule # 1 – Guy friends are good.

  You don’t have to be romantically attracted to every guy you hang out with. Having male friends helps to fill that companionship void we all feel after the loss of a relationship, and it ensures that we won’t have to hook up or have sex with guys who we’re not that attracted to just to feel validated. This is another area where we, as women, have the upper hand. We are much better at just being friends with the opposite sex than men are (obviously because we’re not barbarians who think with penises). It’s as simple as that. Nurturing your male friendships will help you to leave those slimy exes in the dust and move forward with your fabulous, new life.

  And, it will help you to avoid taking desperate measures just to be in a man’s company.

  Case in Point: Now that I have my new, charming tutoring student to hang out with, I will (hopefully) not feel the need to knock on Half-Naked French Hottie’s door just to experience male companionship. Since he hasn’t attempted to see me in a month, contacting him would be desperate behavior on my part. Having a handsome French male friend in my life will keep me on track in my quest to avoid messy, sketchy men and more importantly, love. (Although the handsome part is irrelevant since he’s only a friend, and more appropriately, a tutoring student whose mother turned out to be my evil advisor—but we’ll get into that another day).

  Rule # 2 – Do not attempt to find out what is going on in your ex’s love life. Even if you think you can handle it, please, spare yourself the second dose of heartache and keep moving forward with your life. Because, once you hear that he’s still with the woman who stole him away from you in the first place, you will feel as if someone has ripped your heart out all over again and spat on it.

  Trust me, I know.

  I started to type a third rule about how being a bridesmaid in a wedding where your ex was going to be the best man is about the worst thing you could ever do, but then I remembered that I had forwarded my blog to all of my friends back home, including Hannah. I doubted she was reading it, seeing as how she was busy planning a wedding and being in love and all that, but I didn’t want to make the situation any more awkward than it already was. So, I bit my tongue on that one and kept it to myself.

  Fourteen

  jeudi, le 18 novembre

  Save yourself the drama and buy your own damn chocolate bar.

  Two weeks had passed since my phone call with Hannah, and as I closed the curtains in my room to block any light from coming in and poured myself another glass of wine, I realized I had officially plummeted to the depths of despair.

  For days now, I hadn’t been able to erase the thought of Jeff and Brooke from my mind. I had absurd visions where they were holding hands and frolicking through daffodil covered fields, then stopping to make love in the grass while Jeff would whisper in her ear how happy he was that he’d finally found his soul mate. I had nightmares about walking in on them having sex in Jeff’s bed, and when they saw the horrified look on my face, they simply laughed and kept at it. I woke up more than a few times that week covered in sweat with tears streaming down my face.

  I was in no state to see anyone, so I holed up in my room, ignored my friends’ messages, skipped classes, slept, and drank a lot of cheap wine. I didn’t eat much either, and the few times I did get dressed to go buy more wine, I noticed that my jeans were falli
ng off of me. I’d cancelled my sessions with Marc, telling him I’d come down with a bug that I just couldn’t shake off, and even when Luc had finally knocked on my door the day before, I’d stayed in bed.

  I’d hit a new all-time low, and I wasn’t sure how to get myself out of it. The only person I had any desire to talk to was my mom, but I couldn’t get in touch with her or my dad. They hadn’t answered any of my calls or emails. I probably should’ve been worried, but I was too depressed to think about anything other than Jeff and Brooke’s love-making sessions in the daffodil field.

  The only thing that gave me even a remote sense of comfort was thinking about spending Christmas back in Ohio with my parents. So, on that chilly November evening, after I’d made the mistake of digging my engagement ring out of my jewelry box and slipping it back on my desolate ring finger, I downed two more glasses of wine on an empty stomach and dialed home.

  “Hello? Charlotte?”

  “Hi, Mom.” I let out a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice.

  “Hi, sweetie. I’m so glad you called. I have something very exciting to tell you!” My mom hadn’t had sounded this excited in a long time, so I knew it must be big.

  “Really? What’s going on?” I thought that maybe she and my dad were planning a trip to come see me or that she had bought a new comforter for their bed—who knew?

  “I’m leaving your father,” she announced, very matter-of-factly.

  My jaw dropped to the floor. The two of them had been together for over thirty years now, and even though I knew they weren’t “in love” so to speak, I never thought my mom would leave him.

  “So . . . what are you going to do?” I asked, fumbling to come up with the right words.

  “Oh, I have all sorts of plans. As a matter of fact, I’m packing right now to take a trip to Florida to visit Aunt Liza. I may just stay down there for a while. Who knows? There’s a whole world of possibilities now that I won’t be tied down to a man!” She sounded a little too excited, manic actually.