“Hi,” I greet him. Today I’m truly happy to hear from him and give him a big wave.
“Hi, angel. How are you this morning?”
Lucas called the day I arrived to tell me that he wanted to start getting to know me again, that he thinks we’re worth a fighting chance. I don’t make any commitments, I don’t make any promises, but I’m always open to having new friends.
“I’m really good, Lucas. How are you?”
“I’m good. Just making my daily call to a beautiful woman in Paris. You’re perfect even when you just get out of bed.”
“I feel different,” I respond shyly.
“What’s on the agenda for today? Are you going to the Louvre like you’ve been wanting to?”
“Not today. I’ll make it there eventually. I think I’m going to church and then staying around the area.” I still can’t go anywhere near that place. Not yet.
“Any more waiters giving you their phone numbers?” he teases.
“Ha. I shouldn’t have told you that. I’ll never hear the end of it. It’s amazing how I project the lonely single woman vibe everywhere I go.” I wave my hands in the air and giggle. Each and every time I’ve gone to a restaurant, the waiter has slipped in his phone number as he hands me the receipt. I haven’t gotten this many numbers in my entire life.
“Well, I don’t blame those poor waiters. And let’s do something about that vibe when you get back.” He smiles and I nod my head uncomfortably, knowing I don’t want anything more than a friendship with him.
“Thanks so much for calling. I’m going to get started on my day. Talk soon?”
“Yup! I’ll check in with you later. Miss you, Isa. Take care of yourself. I love you.”
He doesn’t love me. Smitten, probably. But not in love. Love takes so much more than a few nights in bed and a few hours of conversation. In the past six months, I have also learned that it means many things to many people. For the longest time, I thought that love meant staying and persevering. Today, I know that love is living, giving, believing and letting go. Sometimes it even takes twelve years for you to question whether or not you ever really had it.
“Kay! Bye, Luke.” I blow him a kiss and wave furiously again, then push my computer away and scoot out of the bed without looking back.
An hour later, I am walking along the cobblestone streets on the way to the main road, feeling energized. It’s a chilly day in April, almost one year since I was last here. I’m a creature of habit, so my morning routine consists of having a croissant and hot chocolate at the huge drugstore on the corner before doing anything else. After breakfast, I cross the street over to the stairs that will take me to the underground train. I’m going to head over to the Rive Gauche station for a scheduled trip back to Versailles. I don’t know why I choose to return there. It’s my second to last stop in accepting things as they are now. The memories of last year’s visit are fading, but Paris will never be Paris if I don’t force myself to experience these places on my own.
There are only two places I want to see while I’m here: the Hall of Mirrors and the Palace Gardens. While in the Hall of Mirrors, I keenly observe lovers as they stroll up and down the hall admiring the gilded carvings and exquisite chandeliers. I feel detached and disconnected, as if I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be one of them. Maybe it’s because I’m getting stronger. It saddens me to think that I’m no longer the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. Like deep cuts in the process of healing, maybe it needs to grow new skin to protect it before it’s ready to take the plunge again.
Some of the couples are so focused on each other that they don’t really care much about their surroundings; others are so bored out of their trees that their glossy eyes have me imagining how they’re probably obsessing about the lunch menu that is going to be served as part of the tour. As for me, I’m remembering his playful jokes and his constant teasing as we walked through the palace hand in hand. “Isa, they remind me of your grandma’s house,” he had said. “I wonder if she compares herself to Marie Antoinette.” I begin to stroll through these halls with a smile on my face, realizing that these memories now bring me comfort.
Thirty minutes later, I am happy to be back in the outdoors, moving with a group of people who, like me, have scheduled a bike tour of the gardens. We didn’t do this the last time we were here and I’m happy for a new memory, a new experience. Without him. The fountain, the music, the manicured lawns and a picnic along the Grand Canal—all part of the tour, all without him in it. After all is said and done, there’s really not much to debate about the fact that I have to start seeing the world through my eyes and not my heart.
I don’t arrive back at the hotel till almost 7:00 pm. I take my time unpacking the goods I picked up at the Versailles market—some fresh fruits for my stay, a few tiny trinkets for my sisters, and some jams and jellies for our home. Maddy can really eat those strawberry jam sandwiches. I miss her terribly and am just pulling out my cell phone so I can look at photos of her sweet face when it starts to ring. It’s my sisters on FaceTime.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Iss. It’s us, just calling to chat for a few minutes.”
“Perfect timing! I just got back from my tour.” I place the phone on the ground while I finish arranging the last of the jams in my suitcase.
“What are you doing?” Evie starts to laugh. “Why are we on the floor looking up at your ceiling?”
I take the phone and plop down on the couch. “Sorry, I was putting away the stuff I bought.”
Ali’s face comes into view. “Okay, so tell us how things are going. Any more offers for a threesome?”
“Haha. No. That was so weird. Forget I even told you about it.” Twice last week, at a bar by the opera district, I was approached by strangers with very interesting propositions, one from a couple who lead a very unusual life.
“That’s what happens when you’re single and beautiful in Paris. Frankly, I’m glad that this is happening. There’s a whole world out there, Isa. You need to get back in it.” You already know who’s saying this. The woman with all the wisdom. Chief Advisor Extraordinaire. Evie.
“Are the babies with you?” I ask excitedly, still staring into the phone at Ali, who is making funny faces at me.
“No, they’re with Anthony tonight. How was the tour? And did you buy that purse you wanted?”
“Okay, one question at a time. Yes, I bought it. Hold on, let me show you.” I walk over to my closet and pull a purse out of a flannel dust bag. I point the camera to it and glide it back and forth so my sisters can see the full view. I caress its leather surface jokingly and give it a big kiss.
“Oooh. Nice. Do they have it in red?” That’s Evie asking. She’s a red person. Beautiful, bold and daring.
“Want me to check?” I plop back down on the couch and hug my new bag to my chest. “I can stop back at the store tomorrow.”
“Sure, if you can. I’ll pay you back.”
“No problem. Now, next question. The tour was good. Nothing I haven’t seen before, but it was nice to see it from a different perspective.” I set aside the bag and pull my knees up against my chest, holding the phone with one hand in front of my face.
“What perspective is that?” Ali asks, intrigued.
“You know, just really appreciating the sights by myself.”
“Hmmm. Don’t get it, but okay,” Ali answers.
“What she means is that she’s enjoying the sights without Alex’s normal smartass commentaries!” Evie bursts in good humoredly. “That guy just never stops talking.”
I can’t help but laugh at her comment despite the tears that have formed in my eyes from the mere mention of his name. “Why are the kids with Anthony? Where is their dad? Is everything okay?”
Evie smacks Ali on the arm. The phone drops and I hear giggling.
“Guys??? Are you there?”
“Sorry, Evie is being a dork. Don’t worry, Alex is okay and he’s there with them. I think he just went
to attend a meeting out of town and had to leave the kids with Tony for a day.”
I can see Evie glaring at Ali before she directs her attention back to the phone. “Seriously, Iss, how are you. Are you doing okay? Will you be coming home soon?”
“I felt really good when I woke up this morning, Eves. I really think I’m getting better. I have one more place to visit and then I think I’ll be ready to come home.” I shift positions and lay on my stomach, resting my head on my elbows. “How are the kids? I normally call them at night there so I still have few hours to go. If they’re with Tony, though, I’ll skip tonight’s call so I don’t bother them.”
“They’re really good,” Evie says, her face still in focus. “They miss you so much, Eddie especially. He knows you can’t come back until you’re better, he just wishes it happens sooner rather than later.”
“Tell him I’ll be back soon. Maybe I can catch a flight next week if I feel strong enough about everything.” I pause, wondering if they can tell that I’m trying to convince myself as much as them. “I’m really getting there. I am.”
“So happy to hear this, Isa,” Ali says. “We all miss you. Always know that we’re here for you, okay?”
Suddenly, my chest feels tight and I am once again filled with a longing. I have to ask. I just have to. I need to know. “How is he?”
There is a long pause as both heads pop into full view. Evie then takes control of the conversation.
“He’s doing well,” she says matter-of-factly. “We’re not going to lie to you, though, he had a little bit of a meltdown after the airport but he’s dealing with it in the way that he deems best. Just like you’re dealing with it in your own way.”
My heart is heavy again. What way? I want to ask them. Can he tell me the best way to deal with this?
“Not to mention the Lucas thing!” Ali blurts out. “He freaked out about that too.”
Evie calmly puts the phone down and I can hear Ali muttering, “Sorry! Sorry, I had to tell her.”
“Tell me what? You guys, you’re making me dizzy. Stop moving the phone around!”
“Long story short, Lucas mentioned in some interview that he’s in love with someone who is taking time to sort things out. When the reporter asked him about it, he gave very clear hints about who it was. Leigh brought the newspaper article over to Alex, who, in turn, called us both. That was the day before you left, which probably explains the scene at the airport.”
“Remind me never to date famous men. I mean it.”
Who am I kidding? I’m not going to date. Period. No one will ever come close to him.
I take a deep breath and will myself to snap out of it. “Okay, well, I’m going to go out and get something for dinner. I miss you both very much. Please kiss the kids for me. I’ll call you next week if I decide to come home. Love you!”
“Love you too, Iss! Take care and be strong! Bye!” my sisters exclaim together before I press the button and I’m left alone with my sad, solitary life.
***
“Only from the sky can you touch the heart. Tonight, the moon kisses the stars.”
—Rumi
Yesterday, I allowed myself to wallow in hopelessness and pity and anger. I didn’t leave my hotel room. My conversation with my sisters triggered all my emotions, all the feelings that I have yet to affirm in order to visit that one last place, the reason for my trip to Paris. I told myself that I had forgiven him and yet I was angry when I heard that he was okay, because I’m not and I may never be. But as I lay in bed and allowed buckets and buckets of tears to flow, I did realize one thing—I can never deny loving him the way that I do. That no matter how much I try, it will never be over between us. Life never promised to be perfect and I can’t really ask for anything else.
And so today, April 7th, one year to the day after we made a promise, I am here. Standing at the Pont des Arts, our bridge of love. It took all of my resolve to make it here. I’m here to find the beautiful piece of metal that marked our love for each other. I’m here to discover it, to feel it, to prove to myself that it was once real. To wrap my fingers around the object that he held. That he touched.
And then I’m here to let it go.
I walk the wide expanse of the bridge, along the rickety wooden planks, past gas lamps that lit the way long, long ago. I’m lost in a sea of locks; I don’t remember where ours is. The last time I saw it, I used a boat on the water to remind me of its placement. There is no such boat today. There is no such landmark. Still, I walk back and forth; I have all day to do so.
The view of the Seine is extraordinarily beautiful this afternoon. There is a perfect sunlit sky shining its blessings on all the lovers that walk along its path. One hour later, I’m still moving back and forth across the bridge, slower now, beginning to feel that it’s been lost forever. We had marked it so clearly, a red lock with a shiny white ribbon attached to Saint Catherine’s medal. We proclaimed our love and our hearts clearly too, but there’s never a guarantee that anything lasts forever.
I’m so overwhelmed with emotion that I start to cry. My tears are falling, but I won’t stop walking. I pause to pull out the locks that I think are ours only to find that they’re not. Another hour passes by and I’m exhausted. How do I know when it’s time to let go? The moment has come. It is now. I stop to look over the bridge and I speak the words that my heart wants to say, words that I wished he could hear.
“Alex! I’m here. On our bridge. I tried my best to find our lock, but it’s gone and I can’t locate it. I’ve come full circle, Alex, and I’m heartbroken that it’s not with you. Part of me can’t believe that you’re not here next to me, that you’ll never be by my side again. But I know that I have so many things to be thankful for. I’m grateful that I had the privilege of being loved by someone like you. I’m grateful that I’m here, in Paris, missing you. I’m beholden to you for our memories. And our children. Eddie and Maddy and our little Sophie.” I clutch my chest at the mention of her name.
“Most of all, I’m thankful that you’re alive and well and getting better. I want you to know that I love you. That no matter what happens, you will always be in my heart. I will never love anyone else as much as I love you. You have erased any memory of who I was before we met and you made up for all the tears that I shed in my lifetime. Most importantly, please know, that on this day, here and now, I forgive you. I forgive you, Alex, for sending me away. I understand why you did it. All I want now is for you to find happiness. Today I’m leaving it all here. I need to get back to being a mother and a sister and a friend to those who need me. I’m leaving my love for you on this bridge. For as long as this bridge remains, so will my love for you. This may be the last time I get to say this out loud, so here goes: I LOVE YOU!”
As the words come tumbling out of my mouth, as I proclaim my love for him in Paris, I feel my sorrow being washed away by my tears. In that instance, I let myself go. I let my heart speak the words that will set me free. I do love him. I readily accept that I always will.
“I can help you,” an angel’s voice says close behind me.
My breath hitches. My lungs feel tight. I swing around and my hand flies to my mouth. I’m stupefied. He is here. Standing on his own two feet with the help of a cane, his achingly beautiful eyes smiling at me. Once again, there’s a stream of people going about their business, shuttling back and forth from end to end, but time stands still right here and now. A universe of emotions goes through me as I see his face, but none of them are anger. None of them are pain.
It’s just him and me. After all this time, he’s still all I ever see.
“I can help you find our lock,” he repeats. “I know where it is.”
“Alex.”
There are no words for this moment. He slowly walks towards me and I don’t waste another second. I fly into his arms, laughing and sobbing all at the same time. He holds me tightly and kisses my head, my forehead, my nose, and then, finally, my lips.
“Isa!” he moans into m
y hair. “I made such a mess of everything. I am truly sorry.” His body quakes as he holds my head against his chest.
I lift my head and crane my neck to peer into his eyes. “Oh, Alex. I meant what I said that day at the airport. I forgive you.”
“After your fall, I couldn’t bear to look at myself. I knew that I had to get better. I promise to spend the rest of my life showing you how sorry I am for everything. I love you so much,” he cries, tears streaking down his cheeks. “Please baby, please come home so we can be a family again.”
The realization hits me as I separate myself from him to make sure I’m seeing what I’m seeing. “You’re standing!” I exclaim excitedly.
“I am,” he says, tears still falling from his eyes. He leans his cane on the railing and lifts me up in his arms. “I can put weight on them now!” He continues to carry me, swinging me around effortlessly. His arms and chest feel as firm as they were before the accident. His dancing blue eyes are back.
“That’s so wonderful!” I yelp excitedly, wrapping my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.
He kisses me hungrily, placing my feet back on the ground so he can hold my face in his hands.
I break our kiss only to ask him the question that plagued me from the moment I saw him. “How did you know I was here?”
“I hoped that one day you would come looking for it,” he explains, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “so I’ve been visiting this place every day for the past week, waiting for you.”
“It took me a while, I know.” I look up at him sadly, filled with reproach for staying away for so long. And then it comes. The grief I have known for months is leaving my body through wracking sobs that weaken my knees and pull me to the ground.
He slowly folds his legs and sits down next to me. He knows what I’m thinking; he always does. I’m curled into a ball, shrouded in the security that is his body blanketing me, soothed by his hand that strokes my hair.
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