by Anna Adams
“You forgave him? Now that’s a surprise,” Matt jeered. “You, Maude, haven’t a single ounce of pride. Do you know that? Thomas just wants to go out with you for your fame.”
“I don’t care about that,” Maude put in hurriedly, trying to stay on track.
“Of course you don’t. All you care about are his green eyes and his perfect hair. You couldn’t care less that he used you to steal our song!”
“You’re one to talk!” Maude retorted, feeling her anger rise. “You’re the one who came waltzing in with Lindsey when you knew perfectly well I’d be hurt!” she exclaimed.
“Why would you even care about Lindsey? Your Prince Charming just charmed his way back to your heart with some lame, fake romantic gesture. So why the hell would you even give a damn about Lindsey? It’s not as if you and I ever had anything going on. We were barely even friends as it is,” he spat out dejectedly.
As he uttered those words, he knew he’d gone too far. He saw Maude’s countenance stiffen, her eyes hardened as she faced him.
“You’re right, Matt,” she said dryly. “I really am stupid. We probably won’t be seeing each other anytime soon because I’m leaving for France, and I’ll probably never come back to New York.”
“James wanted me to come, too.”
Maude was about to answer when she saw Jazmine hurry towards them while the band was on a break.
“So how were we?” she asked cheerfully as she reached her friends.
“You were great, Jaz,” Maude chirped, trying to sound light-hearted but not quite succeeding.
“Where’s Thomas? Did you two talk? That was some speech he gave, huh?”
“Yes, we talked,” Maude averted Matt’s gaze. “Everything is fine,” she finished limply.
“Maude forgave him,” Matt put in, not quite being able to hide his sarcasm.
“Really? Are you two a cou . . . ” her voice trailed off as she stared in the distance.
“Jaz, what’s wrong?” Matt asked worriedly.
Maude looked in the direction Jazmine was looking at and knew what was wrong.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered.
Jonathan was on the dance floor kissing a girl.
She was a girl from her school named Laura, a loner who hardly ever spoke to anyone. Laura wasn’t very attractive, but seemed blissfully happy in Jonathan’s arms, unaware that she was causing unintentional distress.
For the first time, Maude saw heartbreak in all its force, its destructive, chaotic sway.
Jazmine stood still like a statue. She couldn’t move and at the same time felt her legs wouldn’t support her. Nothing made sense. She didn’t want to look, but couldn’t rip her eyes off the couple. Her hand started to shake uncontrollably, as one slow tear trickled down her cheek. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t walk away, but she wanted to crumble, scream, kick, throw up. She wanted to force herself to do something. Her heart had been wrenched from her breast, and her brain could no longer function.
“Maude, call a cab,” Matt ordered. “I’ll stay and fill in for Jazmine. She can’t stay here.” It crushed him to see Jazmine this way, but there was no way Jonathan would witness her falling to pieces because he hadn’t been man enough to tell her that he was going out with someone else.
Maude wanted to reply, but was silenced by Matt’s stormy expression. She turned away from him. She couldn’t tell him how she felt anyway, not after what he’d said about them not even being friends. Not after he’d come to the dance with Lindsay. He’d made it perfectly clear he felt nothing for her.
“Jazmine, let’s go. You can’t stay here. Come on,” she ushered.
She sheltered Jazmine in her arms. Jazmine didn’t resist and was led away by her friend.
It was only when they got in the taxi that she sobbed uncontrollably, overcome with grief, in Maude’s arms.
Chapter 13
Visiting Paris with the Baldwins and Matt was quite a different affair from the first time Maude had been in the city. The first time she’d set foot in Paris, Maude had been lonely. Now she was surrounded with a wild tribe of friends. Back then, she had never left her small dreary town. Since then, she had crossed seas and discovered a whole new country, culture, and language. Maude was a completely different person, a happy person who knew her own strength and on the whole felt satisfied and content.
Victoria and James had left the kids on the first day to take a romantic stroll in the city, and Jazmine, still raw from her fresh heartbreak, wanted to go on a massive shopping spree at the Galeries Lafayette. The Baldwin tribe and their two French friends were sitting at the terrace of Le Napoleon near the Eiffel Tower, enjoying the sun and the view, deciding what they would make of their free time in the French capital.
Maude’s appointment with the CNAOP was the next day, a couple of hours before her live performance on Taratata. That was tomorrow, she reminded herself anxiously. This afternoon she was absolutely free to spend time with the Baldwin tribe.
Matt had quite a stubborn opinion on what he didn’t want to do and voiced it unreservedly.
“I’m taking Ben with me,” Matt said. “There’s no way we’re spending an entire afternoon in stores.”
Jazmine almost choked.
“Stores?! The Galeries Lafayette aren’t just stores, Matt. They are literally paradise for anyone with taste. Obviously I am wasting my breath talking about taste to someone who agrees to willingly spend time with Lindsey Linton. That is a blatant sign of the utmost bad taste,” Jazmine declared haughtily.
“Whatever,” Matt chuckled, nonplussed. “Ben and I are going to do manly things, right, buddy?”
“Right, we’re men!” he cried out, thumping on his chest in a gorilla-like fashion.
“Say that again in a few years when your voice isn’t squeaking,” Cynthia scoffed sarcastically.
Maude’s cell buzzed loudly at the edge of the table. She grabbed her phone before it fell off the table and read the incoming text.
Have a nice stay in Paris. Say hello to the Iron Lady for me. Thomas.
Maude hid a smile. Ever since the dance, Thomas had sent Maude an alarming number of sweet text messages with unwavering constancy.
“I’m guessing that’s Thomas again,” Cynthia observed warily.
Maude nodded. She never answered his texts: nothing would ever happen between Thomas and her after what he’d done. However, Maude was no different from the next girl, and read each message with a high degree of flattered indifference.
“We’re going to go check out the outdoor art scene at Place Georges Pompidou if anyone wants to come,” Matt ventured purposely avoiding Maude’s gaze. He felt he’d gladly throw Maude’s cellphone in the Seine River if Thomas sent her a text for the millionth time.
“There are some really talented dancers over there,” Cynthia gushed.
“And a couple of Michael Jackson imitators too,” Matt added.
“And mimes!”
“Break-dancers,” Matt put in.
“I’ll get my portrait done by a street artist!” Ben exclaimed.
“Well, I’m sticking to shopping. Besides, I really need to get my mind off . . . things,” Jazmine murmured.
Cynthia and Maude looked at each other worriedly. Jazmine hadn’t quite been herself since the Summer Dance, and Cynthia, who had never known Jazmine to be so thoroughly shaken, didn’t really know how to handle this uncommon version of Jazmine.
“Did you get to talk to Jonathan before leaving for France?” Cynthia ventured cautiously.
Jazmine nodded before emitting a small, brittle laugh.
“He said he didn’t know how to tell me. He’s been seeing Laura for three weeks, but he couldn’t find a moment to announce this surprising news,” Jazmine’s voice quivered.
“Mrs. Bonnin, Carvin’s main baker and gossip, always used to tell me that men are the worst kind of cowards,” Maude recalled looking directly at Matt. He hadn’t even had the decency to warn her he was coming to the
dance with Lindsey!
“Maybe guys aren’t the problem,” Matt interjected sharply. “Perhaps girls should learn to look at what’s right in front of them instead of looking for Prince Charming and fairy tales.”
“No, I agree with your friend on this one, Maude,” Jazmine hissed. “Jonathan was far from being close to what I imagined a Prince Charming to be, but I still fell for him. He is a very good example of how guys can act cowardly. Jonathan told me that, even though he cared about me, he didn’t want to get hurt. He preferred to be with Laura, a girl he could count on and who’s like him in more ways than I am.”
“If he means recluse and klutzy, I guess he’s right,” Maude uttered dryly. Laura wasn’t much better at handling things than Jonathan was.
Jazmine chuckled.
“He is right, Maude,” she admitted sorrowfully. “I couldn’t see that and the realization of this fact is still painful. He and I are worlds apart. I’m outgoing, fun, sociable. He prefers quiet evenings and a reduced social circle. He probably would’ve been unhappy with me.”
“He’s being too cautious, if you ask me,” Matt put in. “He refuses to take a risk and rejects the idea of being in a relationship with someone he genuinely cares about for a relationship with someone he will never deeply love, just because it’s safe. He’s afraid of exploring uncharted territory.”
“I guess some guys don’t have the courage to date a beautiful, popular girl while others consider it a risk to date anything but models or actresses. Probably afraid of losing their coveted spot on Page 6,” Maude retorted dryly.
“Models don’t eat. So there’s absolutely no chance you’ll spot them on a date at Ambrosia with a two-timing schemer,” Matt fumed.
The Baldwin sisters looked at each other in askance, deciding it was probably time to intervene. Cynthia cleared her throat.
“Personally, I can relate on the whole cowardice issue,” she declared. “I was with Peter for that exact reason. I’m never making that mistake again. I am ready to take risks. To taking risks!” Cynthia exclaimed, raising her cup.
“Cheers!” They all cried in unison with a certain reluctance on Maude’s and Matt’s part.
“Now off we go shopping!” cried Jazmine.
The boys grumbled viciously and went their own way.
“I’m exhausted,” Maude sighed, as she plopped on a sofa in the main hall of their hotel that evening.
“How was your day?” Victoria asked.
“Jazmine went crazy at the Galeries Lafayette as always,” Cynthia moaned, rubbing her feet.
“We had fun!” Ben cried.
“And what are you doing this evening?” James asked.
“I’m going to a comedy show this evening. I’m seeing a famous French stand-up comedian called Jamel Debbouze,” Matt answered.
“Jamel Debbouze! I love him!” Maude cried. “I only saw scraps of his shows on TV because Mrs. Ruchet didn’t like him. He is so funny.”
“Then you should go with Matt,” Victoria urged.
Maude fell back in her seat.
“No, I’m sure you’re already going with friends.”
“None of my friends were available, but I really wanted to see him while I was here,” Matt explained. “You can come if you like.” He hoped she would agree although he didn’t want to appear too eager. But seeing a comedy show with Maude was a sure way to get their friendship back on track.
“I’m not sure—” Maude protested, thinking how awkward things were with Matt.
“Nonsense,” Victoria decided firmly. “Matt shouldn’t go on his own, and none of us are fluent enough in French to understand the show. And you obviously love this comedian. You’re going.”
Fighting against Victoria was useless, and Maude had no intention of trying.
“He was hilarious!” Maude screeched. “I thought I was going to fall off my seat.”
“You almost did. Good thing I caught you,” Matt laughed.
They were walking on the Pont des Arts bridge over the glistening waters of the Seine River. The rails of the bridge were covered with locks that couples from all over the world brought to symbolize their everlasting love. The Eiffel Tower could be seen sparkling in the distance, watching over lovers taking an evening stroll in the peaceful Parisian streets. The Tower, though impressive in the day, is a superb queen of the Night. Her cloak of many colors defies the light of the moon, shines brighter than the stars, and makes them look pale in comparison, thus confirming that Paris is indeed the one and only true City of Light.
“I’m so glad I saw him!” Maude gushed.
“And getting his autograph was nice too.”
“You can thank me for that. Whose idea was it to follow him backstage?”
“We didn’t go backstage, Maude. The guards stopped us before we managed that feat.”
“Yes, but he heard us calling his name and came back to give us an autograph and a picture,” Maude said flipping through the pictures in her phone. “Had I listened to you, I wouldn’t have this picture to cherish. ‘Maude, don’t you know how tired artists are after a show?’” Maude mimicked.
“They are!” Matt insisted. “You’ll learn that yourself tomorrow after Taratata.”
“We’ll see. It is just two songs after all and an interview.”
“How are you feeling about that?”
“I’m fine, but I wish everyone would stop asking me that.” Maude paused and leaned over to take a closer look at the lovelocks.
“Would you look at all these locks?” Maude mused, detailing one particular lock.
“Lovers are fools,” Matt said bitterly.
Maude laughed and turned towards him.
“Matt, have you ever been in love?” she asked a certain shyness falling over her.
Matt looked away from Maude and gazed intently at the profound river that flowed underneath the bridge.
“What was the most foolish thing you ever did for love?” Maude asked, a bit bolder.
“Nothing!” he protested a little too much. “Because I am not stupid.”
“Come on, you have to be honest. Pretend we’re playing Truth or Dare.”
“Okay, then I choose dare.”
“Pretend we’re playing Truth and More Truth.”
“All right,” Matt chuckled. He hesitated before admitting in a single breath, “The stupidest thing I did for love was wait hours in a museum for a girl.”
Maude couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy towards this unnamed, supernatural creature who had bewitched Matt long enough to make him wait for her, for hours no less, in a museum.
“Seeing how much you hate museums I would say that is probably the most foolish thing you’ve done for love. I hope she was worth it.”
“She never showed,” Matt went on, looking at Maude intently. “She was on a date with a total loser, not half as handsome as I am.”
Maude burst out laughing as they left the bridge and continued their walk.
“Sorry,” she said between giggles. “You have to admit it is kind of funny as well as terribly cruel.”
“Glad to be of service,” Matt joked. “I should become a stand-up comedian myself.”
“I would most definitely pay to see your show,” Maude giggled.
They walked in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company, the summer night breeze caressing their skin.
“So now it’s your turn.”
“My turn to do what?”
“Tell me what’s the most foolish thing you’ve done for love.”
Maude laughed before saying “Do I really look like the kind of person who would kiss and tell?”
“I told you my most foolish, idiotic, embarrassing moment. Now you tell me yours!” Matt insisted.
“No one forced you to tell me anything!” Maude protested playfully.
“You dared me to tell you the truth!”
“There is no such thing as daring someone to tell the truth. You either choose truth or dare, and you chose
truth,” Maude shrugged. “I admire your honesty by the way. Can’t say I’ve got a similar moral compass.”
“Obviously,” Matt snorted.
They neared the Louvre and entered its main courtyard, the Cour Napoleon. There, the large Pyramid made of glass stood, full of illuminating grace in the center of the courtyard surrounded by the adjacent wings of the palace. Maude looked at the beauty that surrounded her and thought for sure, no city possessed a more romantic, enchanting charm than Paris.
“Matt,” she said turning to him. “Thanks for the evening. I had a great time.”
Matt looked at Maude under the moonlight, and he thought she had never looked so beautifully radiant. Head slightly tilted, her eyes shone kindly, a mild smile on her lips. Matt took a deep breath and decided to take a risk.
“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon? I thought maybe we could go check out the Ragtime café. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Maude’s eyes widened and she was about to say yes, but remembered her appointment with the CNAOP.
“Yes! I mean no, er—” she stopped. “ I- I have something to do tomorrow, I can’t. I’m sorry,” she stuttered helplessly.
Matt wanted to kick himself. So much for taking risks. He had made a complete fool of himself. Of course she would turn him down, she was with Thomas Bradfield. She hadn’t even found a good excuse to turn him down other than having ‘something to do’.
“It’s fine. Don’t be sorry. I’ll just go with Ben,” he said hurriedly, trying to hide his embarrassment.
“With Ben? Eleven year-old Ben?” she asked puzzled.
“Er no. I meant my friend. I have a friend in Paris called Ben and . . . that’s who I meant,” he finished lamely.
“Okay,” she said, hesitantly trying to hide her discomfort. “Maybe we should head back to the hotel.”
“Definitely,” he agreed, heaving a deep sigh of relief tinged with regret.
France is famous for its slow administration. Waiting hours in administrative lines is a habit the French learn at quite a young age, and that is true even when they have an appointment.