Someday in Paris

by Olivia Lara

  ‘We keep seeing each other.’

  ‘Seems so,’ she said, smiling back. She’d tried so hard to forget about him and now, here he was, in front of her.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘I was just in the neighborhood and noticed this place. Looked inviting from the outside.’

  ‘And from the inside?’

  He stared into her eyes. ‘It looks… beautiful.’

  Her heart beat so fast she felt it in her throat. ‘You know you were sitting in my chair?’ she asked with a serious face.

  ‘I was? I’m sorry, I didn’t know,’ he said, quite apologetic.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she continued in the same serious tone. ‘You can have it today. But just so you know, it’s the best seat in the house.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘What do you see?’ she asked, looking out. Anything to stop staring into his eyes.

  He looked out the window, squinted, took a few moments and looked again from left to right and back again, as he probably thought she was looking at something specific.

  He turned to Dominique. ‘People? Cars? Buildings?’

  ‘What about that little girl carrying the sleigh behind her? She is probably going up the hill to play with her friends and catch the last snow of the year. And the nice little old man who left the flower shop with a bouquet of red roses? I bet it’s his wedding anniversary. A big one – forty or fifty,’ she said, smiling. ‘And that couple, holding hands and laughing.’

  ‘I get it. This is the best seat in the house,’ he said, and his whole face lit up with his smile. If he was handsome when he was serious, when he smiled, he was drop-dead gorgeous.

  From there on, the conversation rolled out naturally. They talked about anything and everything. About nothings and big things. From songs to dreams, and books to fears. Time flew by, her lunch hour was almost up, and he had to go back to work as well.

  ‘I’m glad you stopped by,’ she said, walking him to the door.

  ‘Me too. I enjoyed our people-watching. We should do it again sometime.’

  ‘I am here every Wednesday,’ she said and winked.

  ‘Then maybe next Wednesday?’

  Seeing him, talking to him. Amazing and terrifying at the same time.

  Did she know it was wrong to see him again? She didn’t even think about that. Or maybe she did. For a second. But she pushed the thought away. ‘I’d like that. I’d like that very much.’

  ALEXANDER

  11 MARCH 1964

  PARIS

  He’d lied. He’d lied through his teeth. He didn’t just happen to be in the neighborhood.

  For three months, he had lived in complete limbo. It was a perpetual battle between his heart and his mind; between his feeling for Nicole, their relationship, his obligations, conscience and his impossible, intoxicating feelings for Dominique.

  When he went to see her at the café, Alexander didn’t tell her how many sleepless nights he’d spent wondering what he should do. How he’d asked JJ about her, hoping he wouldn’t suspect anything. How those three months in New York he did everything humanly possible to get her out of his heart. He took Nicole out for dates, he spent so much time with her, thinking, hoping she could make him forget. He didn’t tell Dominique how ever since his return the previous week, he’d been following her from school and how he watched her through the café’s window until a customer saw him, and he had to leave.

  That Wednesday when he walked in, he had no idea what would happen. He thought she might not come and that perhaps it was for the best. Or that she would come but push him away or tell him she wasn’t interested in talking to him. Or that she would come but he would immediately know she wasn’t as amazing as he’d imagined she was and their connection was only in his mind. After all, who falls in love like that?

  But she smiled and talked to him. And again, those feelings came back. Their connection was real. She was real and more incredible than even that first night. But as their time together came to an end, his conscience also started nagging him. He knew what their situation was. He knew who she was dating. What could he offer her? Nothing. Besides, he was with Nicole. And he loved Nicole, didn’t he? What was he doing there then, with another woman?

  Alexander prepared himself to say goodbye. But when their hour was over, he couldn’t. Seeing her again, spending time with her again even if it was for just one hour. Even if he had to wait a whole week. That’s what he wanted more than anything. No, he couldn’t say goodbye to Dominique.

  DOMINIQUE

  22 APRIL 1964

  PARIS

  The next Wednesday, Dominique rushed back to the café after school, so excited to see him again, not wanting to miss a single minute of their precious hour. All the way to Le Petit Coin she wondered. What if he didn’t show up? What if he’d changed his mind?

  But just a few minutes after she arrived, he passed in front of the window, waving; a big smile on his face.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she said. ‘I want you to try something.’

  ‘Oh, I thought you were just happy to see me.’

  She smiled. ‘Sit down,’ she said and went behind the bar. ‘I’ll be there in a few minutes.’

  ‘What are you making there? The suspense is killing me,’ he joked.

  She came back with a small tray with two cups of coffee.

  ‘What do you think?’ she said, looking intently at his reactions as he took the first sip.

  ‘Oh, wow, this is so good. What kind of coffee is it?’

  ‘Cinnamon coffee. My own recipe.’

  ‘Cinnamon is my favorite spice,’ he said.

  ‘Mine too!’

  She looked at him for a moment. ‘Pick a number. Any number between one and one hundred.’

  He raised an eyebrow, seeming more amused than confused.

  ‘Seventy-seven.’

  ‘Seventy-eight. I won. So you have to go to the bar and pick up that plate with the biscuits.’

  He started laughing. ‘Sure. This seems like a perfectly fair game.’

  She laughed too.

  *

  Alexander came back the next Wednesday. And the next. And the next. Wednesday became the most beautiful day of the week. She could barely sleep on Tuesday nights, and on Wednesday mornings, she’d wake up before the sunrise. When she’d see him coming, her whole world would light up.

  They didn’t do anything special. They would grab their coffee and macarons, stare out the window, laugh, talk, and enjoy each other’s company. There were moments when they sat side by side in complete silence. It was never awkward; it just felt right.

  *

  ‘I brought you something,’ he said sometime at the end April, a few weeks into their perfect Wednesdays.

  From his coat’s pocket he took out a small piece of paper and after unfolding it, he put it in front of her.

  It was a small drawing of a young woman with flowy red hair and haunting green eyes, playing the harp.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘The model was Alexa Wilding.’ He smiled. ‘This became a painting called La Ghirlandata, almost a hundred years ago.’

  Dominique studied it carefully.

  ‘Thank you for showing it to me. It’s exquisite,’ she said, giving it back to him.

  ‘It’s yours,’ he said.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but barely managed a faint, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You don’t like it,’ he said and sounded insecure all of a sudden. ‘You think it’s silly?’

  ‘No, don’t say that. I love it. She’s so beautiful. I just didn’t expect—’

  ‘I immediately thought of you when I saw it. There’s something in her eyes—’

  Dominique blushed.

  ‘I wish I could’ve brought you the original painting, but all I could smuggle out of my godfather’s collection was this early sketch. You know this is a Ro—’

  ‘Rosetti,’ she interrupted excitedly.

&nb
sp; ‘Because the first time we talked, it was about a Rosetti, I thought…’

  Dominique was speechless and so moved, she was afraid it would show just how much. She would’ve kissed him. At least hugged him. Instead, she just touched his hand for a fraction of a second, then pulled her hand back. They smiled at each other. No need for words.

  *

  Alexander was such a beautiful person inside and out, and the more she got to know him, the more she liked him. He was funny but serious, profound but not dull, sophisticated but not overcomplicated. Even after all that time, she still found him enigmatic and intriguing, like a book you read again and again because you know you’ll discover a new meaning every time.

  Around him, she felt both comfortable and nervous. It wasn’t bad nervous, it was good nervous, but it made her slightly clumsy and occasionally awkward. She had to constantly remind herself not to stare at him or ‘accidentally’ touch his hand. Just like she had to remind herself not to talk about some things. Like Nicole and Vincent. For Dominique, it was her way of protecting herself from her conscience perhaps. From reality. Like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. If she didn’t talk about Vincent, it was as if, for those sixty minutes, he wasn’t part of the equation.

  The past was another subject they didn’t talk about. She’d tried to ask Alexander questions about his childhood, his parents, but all she got from him was that his father had been JJ’s best friend and had died when Alexander was young, and that his mother lived in London, but they didn’t really keep in touch. He was obviously scarred by whatever had happened to him, and she didn’t want to make him relive painful experiences. From that moment on, they never talked about the past; sometimes they would talk about the future, but mostly they lived in the present. Hour to hour, week to week. And that one hour together was an escape from everything and everyone. It was their safe space where bad things didn’t happen. Where they were happy.

  ‘Where would you go if you could? And you can pick any place, any country, no matter how far,’ she asked one day.

  ‘I wouldn’t go anywhere. I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,’ he said with a smile.

  When they stopped talking to take a sip of coffee or look out the window, the tension was so palpable you could almost see the sparks fly.

  It was clear for everyone who had eyes to see. It was clear enough for Constance.

  ‘What are you doing, Dominique?’ she asked her after Alexander left one Wednesday.

  ‘What do you mean what am I doing?’

  Constance frowned. ‘You know very well what I mean. With this man.’

  ‘Nothing. Just talking.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem like just talking to me. Can you imagine what Vincent would feel if he saw you?’

  ‘We’re just friends, Constance.’

  Her cousin shook her head.

  She was lying to herself and now to other people too. They were not friends. She loved him. She wanted to be with him and not just on Wednesdays. Not just for one hour. She wanted more. She wanted to explore Paris with him, hold his hand, and feel his breath on her face. To feel his hand in hers. To kiss him. She wanted to lie on the grass and look at the stars together. Oh, she wanted to dance with him. She imagined his arms wrapped around her. She remembered the song that was playing the night they met and blushed, feeling embarrassed, even ashamed. Because she knew it was a forbidden dream.

  It wasn’t just about them. There were two other people involved. And no matter how hard she tried, her conscience nagged at her. Incessantly. How much longer could she keep it up? How much longer until both worlds would crash into each other like a freight train, destroying everything in its path? She knew she was headed for disaster. But she couldn’t give him up.

  ALEXANDER

  20 MAY 1964

  PARIS

  With each passing week, he was falling deeper and deeper in love with Dominique. His life, the life that he knew before meeting her was turned completely upside down. He had never felt happier than in those short, precious moments with her. For an hour, he didn’t feel that sadness; he didn’t have those thoughts that he didn’t belong, that he didn’t know what he was doing with his life. They were all gone. His life was perfect for that one short hour. And then agony for the rest of the week. When he wasn’t with her, she was all he could think of. The days in between seemed to crawl and sometimes he missed her so much he couldn’t breathe.

  Those days in between were also becoming harder and harder to navigate. As much as he tried to pretend nothing was different, he couldn’t do everything as he used to. Especially when it came to Nicole. For one, he avoided sleeping in the same bed as Nicole, although they still lived in the same house. In JJ’s house. And to do that without having to lie to Nicole or make her feel rejected, he chose to travel for four or five days a week, making sure though he was always back on Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. When he came back, he was either too tired and fell asleep almost immediately or sometimes he’d nap in the office while he was working.

  Even if that didn’t raise suspicion – although he feared it did – his mood was harder to control. And Nicole, who knew him so well, sensed the change in behavior.

  ‘I wish you would stop traveling so much,’ she kept saying to him, every time he packed for another trip. ‘You’re always so tired because you work so much. There’s no time left for anything else.’

  ‘It’s my job,’ he said. ‘And, as you know, a big part of my life. You knew that from the beginning.’

  ‘I thought I was a big part of your life,’ she said.

  He sighed.

  It wasn’t right that he was lying to her. And it wasn’t fair that he was pushing her away and making her feel like she was in the wrong. He knew that. And it ate him inside. But she kept saying it and saying it until she forced him to react like that. It wasn’t the first time Alexander felt she was purposefully pushing his buttons, trying to annoy him and to cause a fight.

  It had all started sometime at the beginning of the year, while they were still in New York and he wasn’t yet seeing Dominique. Back then, he was trying so hard to focus just on Nicole and not to think about Dominique at all. Not that he succeeded, but he tried. He agreed to go with Nicole to all her events, no matter how long or tedious they were, he spent hours with her in stores while she tried on countless clothes, he took her out to romantic dinners and was extra affectionate with her. He gave her everything he thought she wanted from him, and everything he thought would help him forget about Dominique. But it seemed that the more he tried, the more she became irritable and moody.

  JJ saw the change in him too. It wasn’t surprising, since they were spending so much time together.

  ‘Alexander, what is wrong, my boy? You haven’t been yourself lately.’

  ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ he said to JJ one evening as they were driving back from Giverny after failing to buy an early-days Monet. It hadn’t been a good day for JJ either. He hated to lose.

  ‘You can tell me. Whatever it is.’

  He did want to talk to someone; he was afraid he would otherwise explode. But he couldn’t admit everything to JJ. It would hurt him and that was the last thing he wanted.

  ‘I’m just worried about a friend, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmm, a friend. Tell me about him,’ said JJ. ‘Maybe I can help.’

  ‘Not much to tell. He’s in love with a girl, and he’s convinced she’s the one for him.’

  ‘Well, that’s beautiful,’ said JJ. ‘What worries you?’

  ‘You see, she’s with someone. And he has someone too.’

  ‘That’s not good,’ said JJ, looking out the car’s window.

  ‘He asked me if it’s wrong if he sees her. As friends, you know? You think it’s wrong?’

  ‘Of course it’s wrong. They can’t be friends if he’s in love with her. They shouldn’t see each other again.’

  ALEXANDER

  30 JUNE 1964

  PARIS

&nbs
p; ‘Why do you love art so much?’ he asked when, one day, as she was talking about a painting restoration she was working on, her eyes sparkled, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

  ‘There is art in everything we do. Even in this cup of coffee,’ she said and chuckled. ‘See how perfect it is? How exquisite?’

  She continued talking about her painting. He was mesmerized. He could have listened to her talk about the clouds and the sky forever and ever and it wouldn’t have bored him. Her passion, energy and optimism were contagious, and she kept surprising him in every possible way. He had never met anybody like her. Or better said, he hadn’t met anyone like her in a very long time.

  In what felt like a minute, summer started with its long days and warm, starry nights. They had been seeing each other for almost four months. It was incredible how fast time had flown by. Every single Wednesday, no matter what they had to do or where they had to be, they’d make it back in time for their one hour of pure happiness. He organized his work around it, his trips, his whole life. But he knew he couldn’t do it forever.

  On the last Tuesday of June, JJ told Alexander they had to go to Milan for a few days. The Degas they had been trying to buy for over a year, the one that had been off the market for decades, was finally available, and they had both been invited to the closed-door auction. And they had to leave that very night. Alexander tried to get out of it but JJ wouldn’t have it. Not this time.

  That meant he was going to miss their Wednesday for the first time. Alexander had to see her, even if it was for a minute; he had to tell her he was leaving. What would she think if he didn’t show up?

  That afternoon he went to the café. When he passed in front of the window, he had a bad feeling, and the moment he entered the café and saw the look on Dominique’s face he got his confirmation. Something was not right.