We Will Always Have Paris

We Will Always Have Paris - 3

Julie

My heart pounded in my chest as I locked the door to the restroom stall. He was here. Right here within reach. But he was with a woman; his girlfriend, maybe even his wife. It stung, and I blinked a few times to keep the tears away. There was nothing to cry about, but I was upset. If I met him, what would I say? Could I just go back in there, pretend, and say, "Oh, mon dieu, is that you? That's funny." It was a coincidence that I'd spotted him, and he hadn't noticed me. I got dizzy, leaned my head against the flower-patterned wallpaper, and closed my eyes. I heard his voice loud and clear in my head. It was never far away.

”Je t’aime… Je suis fou d’amour. C’est toi… que toi. Amour de ma vie.”

I love you... I'm madly in love with you. It's you... only you. Love of my life.

"I loved you so much," I whispered. I loved him as much as my young heart had been able to, but it hadn't been enough. "He has a girlfriend." She looked cute with her big, dark hair. They had kissed for a long time and sat close together at the table. Of course, such a handsome man was not single. He was good-looking, and when he smiled at his friends, his dimples appeared. Even from a distance, I could see them. Everything about him I recognized. Everything. The group sat at a table in the middle of the room, and I had been able to hide in my corner at the bar. Only when he stood up had I fled to the bathroom? He had taken off his jacket and hung it over the chair. In the 10 years that had passed, he had become more defined. There was more of him, more man, more muscle, more... I sighed and had to pull myself together. Because I was the one who left him.

I didn't want him to see I was here. I sneaked out of the restroom and looked around to make sure he wasn't standing at the bar, which was closer to the exit than their table. One last glimpse. I had to allow myself one last look at the love of my youth. I slung my bag over my shoulder and the light summer cardigan over my arm; all ready to escape. My eyes swept over the room, and I let out a resigned sigh. He wasn't there.

"Are you looking for someone?" A voice I would have recognized through time and place, even if I were 100 years old, sounded from behind. I spun around and realized I was blocking the doorway to the restrooms.

"Désolée ... je ne savais pas ..." Sorry, I didn't know. I gave him a weak smile and fled the bar. On the street, I stood for a brief moment to get my bearings before setting off. Luckily, I was wearing flat sandals.

"Julie!!!" He yelled at me, but I didn't stop, just kept running. "Julie... Juliette." His voice became more and more distant. I ran and ran until I was in front of a familiar address, for the first time in 10 years. It was our old property, where we had lived in a basement apartment. This time the tears came. I breathed sharply, not only because I had run without stopping, but because all the emotions surfaced. François. What did we do wrong? I thought.

Why had I run away? Now I didn't get to have the closure we never had. "i***t!" I exclaimed, slapping my forehead. I sniffled a few times and started walking back to my hotel. The streets were filled with Parisians celebrating their National Day. Lovers were walking close together. Some kissed openly. Others laughed and joked with each other. And I missed my Parisian youth and love.

François

She ran away, and I didn't follow her, but it was Julie or Juliette as I had called her. I must have frightened her, but why? After all, 10 years had gone by. Back at our table, dinner was served and I threw myself at my steak and chips. The conversation was lively, and they didn't seem to notice that I had been away. However, Laurent kept sending me glances with a furrowed brow. Discreetly, I retrieved my phone from under the table. I could always excuse myself from the fact that there was an inquiry from a customer. Antiquités François Martin also had a website, and there were customers all around the world sending inquiries wanting to buy antiques. I opened the f*******: app and typed Julie Kjær. Back when we were lovers, she had told me how Kjær also meant dear. Her profile was closed, and I could only see a few pictures. But it was enough to confirm that the woman I was looking at online was indeed the same woman I had come face to face with a few minutes ago. I sent her a friend request and crossed my fingers that she would confirm. I wanted to meet her and see how she was.

"What are you doing?" Aurélie put a hand on my thigh, and I quickly closed the app.

"Nothing, just a work message."

"OK, but no more work tonight, right? We'll have a good time later." She caressed affectionately up my thigh and stopped inches from my crotch, but there was no reaction. Normally such an evening would end with hot s*x all night, but I couldn't. Although I didn't know if Julie would respond, I had to wait and see. I noticed how Laurent was watching us and our interaction. He himself lived the perfect bachelor life with no commitments.

"I feel a migraine on its way and really need to leave. I'm so sorry" I didn’t see how I could get out of the situation without a little white lie.

"You never have migraines." She sounded nervous, but also suspicious.

"No, but the heat is unbearable, and I've been working nonstop lately." I handed her 100 euros. It covered both our meals and a little more. "I'm sorry, love, but I really don't feel well."

"Who's coming to Saint Tropez this weekend? I've rented a villa overlooking the Mediterranean." Laurent showed pictures of the place on his mobile.

"It sounds fantastic. Don't you want to come?" Aurélie looked up at me questioningly.

"Another time. Unfortunately, I can't leave Paris during the high season and lose business." I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll talk to you later." I waved to the others, and they sent me finger kisses.

Outside it had started to rain, but it was a mild and warm summer rain. It didn't bode well for the fireworks later, though. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I stopped to check if it was her. Julie Kjær accepted your friend request. My heart skipped a beat. How many times had I stared at my phone, wanting to text her? Now I could send her a message. I walked past the elevator and took the stairs two at a time up to the fourth floor of my loft apartment overlooking the Seine. It wasn't big, but then again I was just me, and I had prioritized the location, which was close to the shop and in the middle of Quartier Latin. I opened the double door to the balcony and let the Parisian evening in. The air was mild, warm, and humid after the rain, which was followed by a cool gentle breeze before the heat wave took over again. Up here under the roof, no one could see me, so I took off my overly warm clothes. I cracked open a beer and sat in an armchair overlooking the city, writing to the lost love of my youth.