Page 103 of All That We Are Together
Scarlett stirred her coffee with calm and elegance while she looked at me. Her big expressive eyes were as magnetic as the rest of her. When I got a call from her, and she told me Hans had given her my number so she could meet me for a drink and we could talk one-on-one, it made me nervous, but really, it had been pleasant, even if all I did was listen to the remarkable stories, some beyond belief, that Scarlett was telling me in her marked English accent.
“And so that night we spent in Thailand was one of the wildest ones I can remember; I didn’t think we’d live to tell the tale…” she said, laughing.
“You sure have traveled.”
She’d been detailing her trips to New York, Dubai, Tokyo, and Barcelona. I asked myself if she ever just got up in the morning at home and did something normal and uninteresting, like linger in bed eating junk food or cooking while relaxing to music…
“So what’s happening in your world?”
“Honestly, this is the first time I’ve ever been out of Australia.”
“Don’t let that worry you; I’m sure from now on you’ll be visiting all sorts of places and meeting many fascinating people. It’ll be like opening your eyes, Leah. You know what I like most about my job? That. It’s not easy to find a diamond in the rough, I told you that much, but grabbing it and polishing it until it really shines is something unique.”
I observed her with curiosity. I still didn’t have a clear opinion about her. Sometimes she seemed frivolous and superficial, but I couldn’t help feeling attracted by her genuine smile and her self-assured air.
“I’m not sure if I’ll fit in…”
“The good life has space for everyone, believe me.” She looked around at the meals those in the dining room were enjoying. “Shall we go elsewhere for dinner?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t today; I…” “I have a date” would have sounded so ridiculous that it made me want to laugh, but I also felt an agreeable thrill when I thought of it. Anyone who knew Axel and me would be taken aback by the formality of the phrase. “I have a prior commitment. But we can try for next week.”
“Perfect. I’ll call you.”
Scarlett got up, paid the check, and left before I could even button my coat and grab my bag. I went outside and strolled back to the apartment, taken in by the sights of the city. Axel did that every day: get lost in the labyrinth of buildings. Whereas I felt as if I’d barely gotten to know Paris, all shut up in my studio and anxious about what all this meant for me. And yet, remembering I was going on a date in the City of Love, all I could do was smile.
92
Axel
I unbuttoned the last button on my shirt. Tucking it in made me feel like an idiot, so I pulled it out, even if it was wrinkled, and let it hang loose. I looked at myself in the living room mirror. I was shaved, dressed, ready for a night on the town when Leah came in, looked me up and down, and laughed.
“Sorry, I got delayed. Give me a minute to change.”
“Let me know if you need help getting your clothes off.”
While she ran off to her bedroom, I lit a cigarette. I loved the way she looked when she emerged, in tight jeans and comfy sneakers. I grabbed her hand and we walked out the door.
“What were you thinking?” she asked.
“Honestly. Nothing. Make it up as we go along.”
So I took off for the part of the city I liked most, the one that had becomeours, in a way, after spending so many sunrises there. We walked on the Boulevard de Clichy, between the lights of the famous Moulin Rouge and the nearby bars under the dark dome of the night. My stomach growled as I smelled the crepes the street vendors were preparing to tempt the nearby tourists. I stopped in front of one.
“Are you in the mood for dinner at a fancy restaurant or something like that?” I asked. “I’d happily take you to the costliest restaurant in the city if that’s what you want. One of those where they give you so many forks you have to look on the internet to know which to use when. But if you’re not in the mood for all that, I’d just as soon buy a couple of crepes and some beers, and go up to the top of Montmartre for dinner. Or we can stop in a regular old restaurant.”
I was nervous as I proposed this, but she chuckled, as if it amused her to see me unsure what to do. She was gorgeous. Her hair cut just above her shoulders, her eyes shining with happiness the way they always had before, when her face was barely big enough to hold her smile.
She walked past me to the stall.
“I’d like acrêpe avec fromage, thon, et oignon,” she sputtered to the worker, then looked at me. “What should I order for you? One with mushrooms and cheese?”
“Yeah, and another one with Nutella to share.”
We climbed the 222 steps and took the Rue du Mont-Cenis, and when we arrived at Sacré Coeur, the imposing church on top of the hill, we sat on the stairs leading to it, smelling the flowers in the neighboring garden and looking at the tourists lingering around the parapets and the busker with his guitar.
The city was at our feet. During the day, the place is packed, but at twilight or nightfall, it empties out, turns magical, and you can relax and enjoy the view. Time seemed to stop, and the silence was not just tolerable, but seemed somehow necessary.
“Here, this one’s yours.”