One Paris Summer (Blink)

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Yeah, I saw that,” he sneered.

  “It wasn’t like that, Eric. His parents are divorced and his mother remarried. He understands.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he understands.”

  “Stop. I really like him, and you’re making what we have sound gross.”

  “Then why didn’t he stick around and apologize for keeping you out so late? Why don’t you want Camille to know you two were together?”

  I gasped. “Now get this straight. I was out late. He was only with me, so don’t blame him for that. He asked me where I wanted to go, and I picked the Eiffel Tower. It took hours.”

  “And Camille?”

  “You already know.”

  His eyes filled with disgust. “So he’s keeping you his dirty little secret.”

  “Stop. Just stop.” Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to admit he was verbalizing my own concerns. “You can’t tell Dad he was with me.”

  “You want me to lie?”

  “I want you to keep it to yourself.”

  More curse words spewed from his mouth, and then we heard Dad’s voice. “Eric?”

  Panic rushed through my veins. “Please, Eric. I’m begging you!”

  A moment later, Dad pushed open the door to the stairwell.

  “Sophie.” My father’s voice was heavy, and he looked older than I’d ever seen him. Dark hollows underscored his eyes and his face was pale. He rushed forward and pulled me into a tight hug. “I was so worried.” His voice broke, and his fingers dug deeper into my back.

  I knew I should say I was sorry, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for telling him off or leaving. Still, I needed to say something. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

  He pushed me away slightly and looked me over. “We need to get upstairs to tell Eva and Camille you’re back safe. They’ve been worried sick.”

  I had to hold back my snort. Eva, I believed. Camille . . . please.

  The three of us climbed the steps in silence, and I looked over my shoulder at Eric, mouthing, “Thank you.” He had kept quiet about Mathieu.

  His eyes narrowed.

  When Dad opened the apartment door, Eva took one look at me and burst into tears and then a gush of French as she rushed over to me and gathered me into her arms.

  “I’m sorry, Eva,” I said through my own tears. It only then occurred to me that my absence might have reminded her of the accident that had killed her husband. Now I really did feel terrible. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She pulled back and smoothed my hair out of my face. “You are safe. That is what is important.”

  I only noticed Camille was there when she spouted off a stream of furious French. Then she switched to English so I could bear the full brunt of her anger. “She ran off for hours, and that’s all you have to say?” she asked in disbelief. “You made us come home to help look for her, which was ridiculous. We all just sat here and waited.”

  Dane gave me a look of disdain.

  “Camille,” Eva said, sounding weary. “She’s home safe.”

  “After she ran away like a baby. She should be punished!”

  “Just like you were punished for running away when I first got here?” I asked. “Multiple times?”

  Ranting in her native tongue, Camille stomped off to her room.

  “Where were you?” my father asked.

  “I walked around. Then I went up the Eiffel Tower.”

  “The Eiffel Tower? Why would you do that tonight?”

  “Why not? It’s looming outside my window every day, and I wanted to go up inside it.”

  “You went up in the Eiffel Tower by yourself?” Dane asked in disbelief.

  Dad pointed to the hall. “Eric, Dane. Thank you for your help, but go to your room. Eva and I need to talk to Sophie.”

  Eric still looked furious, and I wondered if he was going to spill everything, but he stomped away, Dane following on his heels.

  Dad led Eva and me into the living room. They sat on one sofa and I sat on the other, setting my bag down next to me. My father’s gaze was a bit glassy. “You scared us to death tonight, Sophie. We had no idea where you were and had no way of contacting you. You could have been lost or hurt or worse.” He stopped and rubbed his mouth before continuing. “I was out of line earlier.”

  My eyes widened in surprise.

  “I still think you could strive for more balance. You’re in Paris. You should be out in the city.”

  “And I was out in it tonight.” I took a deep breath and turned to my stepmother. It was time for some honesty. “No offense, Eva, but Camille doesn’t like me and she hates it when I trail along. Most of the time I think it would be better for me to leave her and her friends alone.”

  Eva’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “I will speak to her.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I understand why she resents me. I don’t blame her. She has a million reasons to resent me being here. I get that. Maybe things will get better once she’s no longer forced to entertain me every day.”

  Eva nodded, but Dad didn’t look convinced.

  “And I think more balance would be good. I’ll just do things on my own. Or wait until Jenna gets here.”

  “You can’t go wandering around on your own,” Dad protested.

  The truth was, I hoped I wouldn’t be wandering around on my own. I hoped Mathieu would be with me. But there were some serious roadblocks to that plan. For one thing, I wasn’t sure Eric would stand for it; more importantly, I realized there was no way my stepsister would ever give Mathieu her blessing. Which meant I was stuck.

  “She needs a mobile,” Eva said. “Part of the problem was we couldn’t get ahold of her, and we knew she had no way of calling us if she ran into trouble. We can get her a mobile so she can check in with us.”

  “Eric suggested it before, but I didn’t think it was necessary . . .” Dad said, rubbing his mouth again.

  Now that we had settled the phone question, I needed to make something else clear. “Let’s get something straight, Dad.” I purposely kept my voice calm. “I love the piano. I’m very good at it, and I plan to major in music in college. But I have to practice. A lot. If I want to win that scholarship, I need to be in top form in October. That’s not going to happen if I spend all summer without practicing.”

  “Sophie, I know you love your music, but what do you realistically hope to do with it? Will you give lessons to kids after they get out of school? Do you want to spend tens or possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on a degree that will barely make you above minimum wage?”

  Eva put her hand on my father’s arm, and he stopped and took a deep breath.

  “I love you, Sophie. I just don’t want you to wake up twenty years from now and look back on your life with regret, wishing you hadn’t thrown everything away for your love, only to find out how lonely you really are.”

  Was he talking about himself?

  “But Eva reminds me that you are sixteen and have a mind of your own. You need to make your own choices. I can only give you my opinion.”

  “Thank you.” Tears came to my eyes as I glanced at my stepmother. “Thank you, Eva.”

  She lifted her knuckles to her lips and nodded.

  “So if we get you a cell phone, will you agree to go out and see some part of Paris every day?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you can practice every day, but try to keep it to four hours a day or less.”

  I started to protest, but I knew it would be difficult to practice that much after Jenna got here. “Okay.”

  He was silent for several seconds. “You need to call your mother.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

  “When we couldn’t find you, I called her to see if she’d heard from you. She’s pretty upset.”

  I wondered if she was upset with me, him, or both of us.

  “I think she’s going to ask you to come home.”

  His statement hung in the air for several second
s, sending a cascade of thoughts through my head. If I left, Jenna would kill me. She had been looking forward to Paris for weeks. And it also meant I’d probably never see Mathieu again. Sure, the likelihood of us working out wasn’t so good, but I wasn’t ready to give up on it before we even started. Besides, I still wasn’t sure when I’d see my dad next. And while we were clearly still at odds, I wasn’t ready to give up on him yet either.

  But most importantly, I liked who I was becoming in Paris. I liked the confidence I was gaining, and something had clicked tonight more than ever. While standing on the platform of the Eiffel Tower, looking down at Paris, I had realized I wanted to see more of this beautiful city that filled me with awe. I wasn’t ready to give up on it . . . or on me.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  Dad’s eyes filled with surprise, and his shoulders sagged with what looked like relief. Eva patted his knee.

  “She might insist.”

  I sighed. “I’ll tell her going home isn’t an option.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m not just doing this for you,” I said. “I’m doing this for a lot of reasons. Besides, I really like Eva. I want to get to know her better.”

  She smiled, then moved to the sofa and pulled me into a hug. “Merci, Sophie.”

  “If I’m going to call Mom, I’ll need a phone.”

  Dad stood and pulled his from his pocket, then handed it to me. “I love you, Sophie. Even if you have a hard time believing it.”

  I got up and hugged him, but he was still earning back my trust. It was just one more reason to stay the rest of the summer.

  Dad and Eva had started to leave the room when I asked, “Eva, do you think I could sleep out here tonight? I think it might be good to let Camille have some space.”

  She nodded. “I’ll get you a blanket and pillow.”

  “Thank you.”

  When they left the room, I walked over to the big windows overlooking the street and called my mother. I hadn’t heard her voice in over a week.

  “Bill, please tell me you found her,” my mother’s tearful voice pleaded.

  “Mom, it’s me.”

  “Oh, Sophie.”

  She broke into sobs, and my heart hurt. I did this to her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

  “Did you run off because of the email I sent you this afternoon?”

  “What?” Then I realized I’d never checked my email after telling her I’d heard Dad’s side of things.

  “He broke his promise. I’m sure he told you all kinds of ugly things about me.” Then she broke into a several-minute tirade about how irresponsible he was and always had been. As her litany of his misdeeds continued, I listened in amazement. Had she always felt this way? I’d never once heard her complain about him so bitterly.

  “Mom,” I finally interrupted. “I’m fine. That’s not why I left.”

  “I want you to get on a plane and come home tomorrow.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “No. I’m not coming home yet.”

  “He’s playing Disneyland Dad, isn’t he? Taking you to all kinds of places I could never afford. He was like that here . . . never wanting to do the hard stuff. He wanted to be the fun parent.”

  This was a reminder that all the clues to my parents’ discord had been there all along. I’d just chosen to ignore them.

  “No, he’s not. We do stuff as a family on the weekend, but during the week, he’s mostly at work.”

  “So he’s ignoring you.”

  “No, Mom. We’re fine. We do things with Camille and her friends during the day.”

  “Your stepsister. Do you like her? You never mention her in your emails.”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t exactly tell her that we were nearly mortal enemies if I wanted her to let me stay.

  “So you like Evangeline too?”

  There was a slightly resentful tone in her voice, but I understood. I probably wouldn’t be too happy if Mom were bonding with a new daughter back home while I was here. “Mom, I love you. No one could ever replace you.”

  “But you like her.”

  “Yeah. I do. She’s really sweet, and I’m grateful she’s not some fairy tale stepmother.”

  “Does she cook great French food?”

  “No, she barely cooks at all. I miss your shrimp and grits.”

  “You can have some on Sunday after you get home.”

  “Mom,” I said quietly. “I’m not coming home yet.”

  “Do you have any idea how terrified I was? No one knew where you were, and I’m stuck here at the hospital completely helpless.”

  Oh no. She was still at work. “I’m sorry. I really am. If I’d had any clue everyone was so freaked out, I would have come home sooner.”

  “Home.”

  Oh crap. I’d never called Dad’s apartment home before, and it was a bad time to start. “Mom, you will always be my real home. Not Charleston. Not our house. Not this apartment. You.”

  “I love you so much, Sophie.” She started crying again. “I don’t know what I’d ever do if anything happened to you.”

  “I love you too, Mom, but I can’t go home yet. I’m not done here yet.”

  “Okay.”

  “I think they’re getting me a cell phone, so you can call me whenever you’re worried.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, so I said, “Mom, Eva’s incredibly nice, but you are my mom. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

  “You’re growing up and leaving me,” she said through tears. “I thought I had two more years, but you’re already pulling away.”

  Guilt washed through me and I wondered if I should tell her I was considering auditioning for Conservatoire de Seine. But I’d probably never get an audition, so I didn’t see the point of upsetting her.

  “Momma, I’ll be home in another month and everything will be back to normal.” Yet we both knew there was some truth to her words. I was changing, for the better, but I was changing regardless. I wouldn’t be the defenseless daughter she’d put on a plane weeks ago.

  “So you must be having fun if you want to stay.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “You met a boy.”

  I felt myself blushing. “Maybe . . .”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “He’s a friend’s of Camille’s. His mother is a professor at a conservatory. He has a Steinway and he lets me play it.”

  “Oh . . . so he knows the way to your heart.”

  My grin spread. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Tell me more about him.”

  I looked behind me to make sure no one was listening, then opened the massive windows and walked onto the narrow balcony. “His name is Mathieu.”

  “Oh.” I heard the smile in her voice. “Very French.”

  “He’s going to be a senior. He’s got very dark hair, almost black, and deep blue eyes. He’s about six inches taller than me.”

  “The perfect height for wearing heels.”

  I blushed again. “Yes.”

  “I want to know more.”

  I told her about him walking me to his apartment and teaching me French, about how he understood what I was going through because his parents were divorced.

  “He sounds like a wonderful boy, Sophie. So why do I hear a but in there?”

  “Camille and Mathieu dated—very briefly—but still . . .”

  “Oh.”

  “He’s going to ask Camille for her blessing for us to be together since she’s seeing Dane.”

  “Wait. Dane Wallace?”

  I told her about the two of them, Mathieu’s internship, and the deep dark secret he feared Camille would reveal.

  “I doubt it’s as bad as he thinks,” she said. “And if Eva is any kind of professional at all, she won’t let her daughter influence her decision.”

  “Mom.”

  “I only speak the truth.”

  “Camille will never tell him it’s okay, and he won�
��t tell anyone he likes me if she doesn’t. But it’s his future, Mom. I can’t ask him to give that up for me.”

  “Then don’t, Sophie. You’re there for another month. Just take what you can have and cherish it forever when you come home. How many sixteen year olds can say they had a summer romance in Paris?”

  I gasped. “I can’t believe you’re saying that. You’re telling me to lie?”

  “No, of course not, but let me ask you this: if you were back home and your father were here, would you tell him everything that was going on between you and Mathieu?”

  “Uh . . . no.”

  “This is the same. I’m not telling you to sneak around, but if you’re going to practice at his house every day, you’ll get to see him a lot.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Your memories will be even more special. Just leave it open and see what happens.”

  “But . . .”

  “It’s not like it would ever last. You’ll have to say good-bye when you come home anyway. A long-distance relationship when you’re sixteen is unrealistic.”

  My chest constricted at that. She was right. After this summer, I’d probably never see Mathieu again.

  “Eric has figured it out. He’s gone from ignoring everything about me to becoming obsessed with keeping me away from Mathieu.”

  She laughed. “He’s your older brother. It comes with the job description.”

  “I miss you, Mom.”

  “I miss you too. No more scaring me like you did today. I expect that kind of behavior from Eric, not you.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Keep sending me email updates. And include Mathieu now.”

  I grinned. “Okay. I will.”

  Even from thousands of miles away, Mom knew how to make me feel better. My heart was being pulled in two different directions—back to my mom and what was familiar and to Paris and the possibility of so much more.

  If I were totally honest, one person here tugged at me the most. I planned to take my mother’s advice and make the most of it.

  CHAPTER Twenty-Three

  DAD AND EVA became even more determined to work on blending our family, despite a collective bad attitude on the part of us teens. Saturday was the Fourth of July and so Dad made barbecue chicken, but Eric complained that it wasn’t the Fourth without fireworks. By Sunday night, they’d all but given up, even if our level of animosity toward one another had significantly decreased.