Roaming In France

Chapter 02

“Oh no.”

I hear people let out sighs and marks of disappointment and worry right when I started running away from the centre of the crowd, leaving the guy on his own while everyone was still on us. I feel pain in both my palms as I was clenching my hands into fists, making my long almond nails almost pierce my skin. But I kept it in. I continue to run, with my forehead facing the ground, yet I somehow can still feel that the attention was on me.

How did I get myself into that situation? Like, f**k, I’ve been dealing with a lot of absurd things the whole day! almost like my whole life. But it did not have to go this bad! There’s absolutely no way people thought I was getting engaged after a kind-of cute guy returned the ring I dropped. That dude does not look like someone I’d like. He was just cute. In an annoying manner. Also, I was wearing sweats that almost look like pyjamas, with dirt on my ass. He was just standing there! Not even on his knees, like what a guy who’s proposing should do.

I was just shocked at how the ring made it back to me again when I decided to finally let it go. Explains why I was standing like that, with both my hands on my mouth covering a gasp. And... Mhm. I understand now.

I couldn’t handle the setting I was in. A lot of watchers were even shouting, chanting, telling me to say yes. Which, of course¸ I didn’t do. My instincts told me to run away from where I was. Like how I ran after the mugger that snatched my bag. But this time, I will not give a s**t about how many cars I’d possibly scratch.

Okay. I could’ve dealt with that in a better way.

I could’ve fixed the misunderstanding and shouted in front of almost fifty people recording, and say “I don’t know this man.” Instead of running off like I rejected his proposal in front of a crowd. And I am realizing that just now. Now that I am running away like I’ve turned down my boyfriend’s engagement proposal during a lively night in Paris.

I can see how people stare at me obnoxiously as I pass by them on my sides even though my head was facing the ground. The crowd itself made a way for me so I could run without accidentally crashing into anyone. They compressed themselves together so I can have my way. Some of them are probably questioning where I got the guts to run away from a “romantic” proposal. And some might be judging the stain on my ass when they start seeing me from behind. My own mind is cursing at my body for what I just did. I knew I could resolve that in a better way, but I decided to run. This place has just been ruining the way my brain functions.

I start slowing down after getting out of the crowd. I didn’t look back. I’m sure they are either watching me with anger traced on their faces or comforting the guy I was with.

I raised my forehead to somewhat see where all that running took me. I’m still in the main park, just some steps away from all those people. The number of people reduced a little, but the place is still busy. Most of them are heading towards the tower, which is behind me. My eyes explored around, but I did not let them reach my behind. I am certainly not looking back. None of the people walking the opposite way as I am seems to be paying interest to me. I’ve escaped attention. I think. I hope.

I reduce the speed of my pace completely when I start running out of breath. I’ve been walking and facing these stupid problems. And I really am getting tired of it.

I went to a complete stop when I reached the road where cars are driving by. I try looking for the crossing lane on each side of the path, but I could not spot any. I start noticing how other people were just walking past me after crossing the road randomly. And since everyone was just crossing whenever in whatever way, and not a lot of cars are passing by, I decided to do the same.

The designs of the structures around are all almost identical to each other, but it was still easy to differentiate which are which. I walk past cafes that turn into bars and restaurants at a certain time of the day.

The only meal I got to eat today was breakfast. And they were just different types of crackers I ate on the plane. Even handpicked those that do not leave a lot of crumbs when I eat. And, Jesus Christ, that was hours ago. After all the walking, running, and dealing with the stupidest s**t ever, of course, I’d feel hungry. The smell of dairy products in stores I come across to has not left my nose. And that’s f*****g torture.

I’ve been eyeing people I can see eating pasta on restaurants that have tables on the pavement. Did they choose to get seated on the streets to make me feel worse? I could be sipping wine right now. Hell. I followed whatever way this sidewalk was taking me, not giving much care about where I’d end up. I made multiple turns on random streets I walk by, hoping I can spot a charging station somewhere.

I finally woke up to my senses when I saw that the path I was following was leading me to a stairway that goes up a level. I squint my eyes to see its top, and looking at it closely, it is not actually that tall compared to when I first laid my eyes on it. There weren’t many people around, but there were some walking down the brick stairway. I figured that there might just be more shops and diners up there, and people are visiting them for the view.

My toes are fighting for its life. I started to feel pain in my feet when I left the pavement I fell on earlier. I’m a flight stewardess, and I wear heels on a daily basis. And, it does hurt a lot when I walk around for too much wearing them. But, yeah, I’m used to it. And ew, no, I am not wearing heels together with these sweats. I just somehow said that to support my claim that I am used to having my toes hurt.

I’m wearing sneakers which somewhat look like old-school rubber shoes. This is the first time I wore it out even though I bought it a long time ago. Flats and shoes like these are just not my type. But, hey, at least I was smart enough not to wear stilettos during an unlucky day. But... Still... My feet hurt. And I am uncomfortable.

It took me minutes to decide whether to go up the stairs with my dying toes or not. I’m not considering climbing these stairs for the view. I’m considering how unlucky I have been. ‘Cause, what if I find out tomorrow that there’s actually a convenience store or a charging station up there and I chose not to go and ended up walking further away?

I went up anyway. My toes are not in the place to complain about pain when my hands have been carrying so much weight the whole day. Like I said, it wasn’t so high. I reached the top after maybe less than twenty steps. And I was not mistaken when I thought people came up here for the view.

I was again mesmerized by the tower, the park, and everything around it from where I was. There, I finally saw how far I walked from the central park where that strange guy accidentally proposed to me. I can view the exact spot of where we were earlier. And it sure does look so far. It’s like I went up a hill when all I did was walk on random streets.

The tower seems even more beautiful from up here. I really hated how I first saw it though. I wanted to experience the first glimpse of it feeling comfort and solace. But what happened was clearly the opposite.

I’m starting to feel odd emotions standing here, feeling the night breeze of Paris, thinking of how I could be enjoying the view if things went as I planned, on the side of the walkway. Actually, almost at the edge of it. Just a little step forward will make me fall a level lower, where I was walking before I went up the stairs. I’m guessing about 8 feet. But that doesn’t really matter. If I pay attention to it more, my ass might end up injured laying down there, considering how unlucky I am. Again.

I guess the architects weren’t a fan of safety railings. And I am definitely not a fan of falling.

Looking back at what I have gone through the whole day, I thought of stepping back from the edge. I stepped my right foot back and hurriedly tilted my head when I felt like my elbow had bumped into something hard. When I was about to fully turn my body, I sort of felt like I was being tickled when a cold hand had made its way to my arm, pulling me from behind.

I figured that it was a man just the hands alone. But I somehow did not sense danger. Normally, if a man randomly grabbed you by your arm from behind, a lot of thoughts would burst from your head. You’d probably think it’s a burglar, or you’re getting abducted.

“Please step back.” I heard him say.

There, I noticed how only half of my other foot was on the ground. Out of panic and fear of accidentally sliding down to the lower ground, my hand immediately reached for the man’s hand holding onto my arm, causing me to lean on him completely.

We were in that position for a solid minute and in pure silence. He was not pulling me back, or saying anything. I can’t really describe the pose I’m on. All I can say is that I am an inch away from falling.

I hear him take a deep sigh before speaking, “Just step back.”

“I can’t balance!” my mouth blurts out, my voice slightly shaking.

My leg I stepped back earlier is slightly bending as my upper body is fully leaning onto this man. If I were to see what I look like from a passerby’s perspective, I’d judge too hard. “Just step back,” he says again, with pure annoyance in his voice.

I carefully try to do as he orders—nervously—swallowing nothing at all. I stepped my other foot back which was about to slide off the ground and successfully managed to stand up straight from bending down. That was f*****g awkward. I have been nothing but dumb today, I want to bury myself deep underground.

“See? It was that easy.” I heard him murmur while I carefully turn to face him.

A crease appeared on my forehead as the same tall, masculine, kind-of-a-cute guy that ­“proposed” to me is here standing right in front of me.

“Are you stalking me!?” I snarled at him with my brows almost merging together while I shook off my clothes. This is becoming scary.

He looks straight at me with his snoby eyes and annoying lips. Not sure how I find it annoying. It just is. “Do you really think so?”

I coughed and glanced away.

I let a silent minute pass without doing anything idiotic. To, of course, let him explain why he’s there. Totally not ‘cause I’m trying to think of how to run and escape once again. The awkward silence shifts as he grabs something from behind, creating an irksome sound on the concrete ground. I shudder dramatically as I smack my lips together after glancing back to see what he pulled out.

“Those look identical to mine,” I said, with the fakest laugh I have ever made.

He lets out an exasperated groan. “They can’t really walk by theirselves, can they?” I know exactly what these are. Of course, they can’t walk on their own. That’s why my hands feel dead and numb. My stupid suitcases. I just know damn well how to get myself in trouble, do I? Someone must be praying for my downfall.

My hand traveled quickly to my head, not sure if it should itch it, slap it, or pull my hair. “...I suppose,” I smiled gawky as I tried to reach for the luggages.

I try to brush the discomfiture off by holding my head up. “Mhm.. I sure am forgetful these days. Hahaha..”

“Is that it?” he scoffs.

No way he’s expecting me to do something in return. I mean... He did, at least, make an act of kindness, but isn’t this something that people should do? And it’s not like it was that hard to carry those. It was.

“But, I don’t have money...” I whispered to myself. Even if I wanted to give him something in exchange, I wouldn’t be able to. I should consider myself homeless at this point!

“You think I want money?”

“Huh— No! I was just... talking to myself.” I spit out, defensively stuttering.

The wind passes by, making rustling noises all over us. It made it more difficult for me to ponder. “Look, lady, let’s not make this hard for the both of us. I’m not asking for your money.” His eyes were evidence he was irked.

“But I was expecting a thank you, or—“

My lips felt tortured as my teeth almost pierced through it.

The sound of my stomach growling in anger... and most definitely hunger cut his rants off.

“That, that wasn’t me.” My eyes widened after being shut so tight to say that. “Yeah, no. It wasn’t me. Was it you? Are you hungry?”

“You probably are, yeah, uh. Would you like to grab dinner with me? I can buy you dinner! Hahaha.” I exclaimed, trying to seem enthusiastic. The realization hit me too hard, it made me lower my head swiftly. “Right, I don’t have money,” I muttered to myself.

“Okay, uh, you can give me your number and I’ll call you when I can treat you out!”

I reached for my phone in an attempt to type. “Right, it’s dead...”

“That’s an unusual way to ask someone out,” he chuckled.

“What? Ew, no!” I let out an unintentional yell, making some passers-by turn their heads at us.

It was kind of a sketchy place. I went up here, thinking there would just be more restaurants, and even expected a convenience store to be around— but there’s nothing much here to go on. Other than walking on a path with bushes and stones on your sides, while looking at a view. I don’t know, and I don’t see where this path leads to. Yet, there are still some people walking by this narrow trail. I wouldn’t want to be too loud walking here, considering I was given side eyes the entire day.

“..I mean.. No..” I mumbled.

And I also have no desire to offend him that way.

“Let’s go. I know a good diner nearby,” he says after letting out a sigh, leading the way as I struggle to drag my suitcases along the concrete path.

The five-minute walk to this diner felt like another hour for my hands and feet. Images of delicious food and drinks went straight into my imagination the moment I began smelling what’s cooking inside. When he said he knew a good diner, I realized he was not lying one bit when I finally glimpsed at this busy restaurant on the corner of the street. There were a lot of people, mostly foreigners, sitting by the patio, holding their champagne glasses as they titter.

This man shoves in the restaurant’s glass door, ignoring the attendants in front that I had to anxiously turn my head to the people in line to make sure we didn’t look like robbers with luggages. But no one seemed to care. I feel like it’s part of their culture at this point. Not giving a f**k.

The sensation of coldness enveloped me instantly causing me to shiver involuntarily the moment we crossed the threshold into the restaurant. Perhaps it is because the place exudes an aura of elegance and fanciness, and they likely serve expensive meals that I can’t pay for— Well, right now. I’m not sure how I’ll manage to pull this off, but I’m up for it. Maybe run off after eating five plates?

The servers inside didn’t seem to bother as well, even after seeing us barge in. He immediately sat on one of the chairs at the very corner of the place. I could tell it was a table for four, but, still, no one is really troubled by our presence.

Upon finally heading to the plush banquette booth, a wave of relief washed over me, soothing the exhaustion that I had been keeping throughout the day and offering a moment of respite and relaxation.

“Finally,” I murmured. All I can hear are my thoughts and the jazz background music playing from the booth. I wish this day was just a long nightmare.

“What do you want to order?” His cold and emotionless voice broke the solace in my ears. On the brighter side— I wouldn’t have been able to finally sit here without him. So I need an attitude change up for the time being.

I have no idea how to.

“Uh, I can eat anything honestly. I’ll just pay you back, maybe tomorrow,” I replied, trying to smile.

He nods and raises his finger after placing his elbow on the table while I sit comfortably in my place. The waitress had already made her way to us before he could even turn his head in the booth’s direction.

She greeted him with a smile and took out a pen and a pad from her apron. “Boeuf Bourguignon and a serving of soufflé for me,” he confidently recites his order with such precision without even asking for the menu as if he knows it like the palm of his hand.

The waitress nods as she writes in his orders while they continue to exchange words as I sit here, captivated by his fluency in French.

“And the lady will have a bouillabaisse.” I heard him say, making me snap out of my imagination.

“Wait, no. I don’t like fish,” I enunciated.

I felt a subtle itch in my throat after his freezing gaze drew back at me. “I thought you eat anything?”

“Sorry, I just...” My voice starts fading when I notice traces of annoyance in his expression. “...I just don’t like fish that much,” I continued, stuttering.

“So, what do you want?” he asks again.

“Anything.”

“Okay, anything but it should not have fish on them,” I added.

A sense of relief floods over me like a gentle wave as I find myself able to draw in a calming breath once again, the tension dissipating from my chest as his piercing gaze releases its hold on me and shifts its focus back to the waitress.

“She’ll get a cassoulet,” he said earnestly.

“Oh, I don’t like beans.”

I swiftly covered my mouth with a slap after the unintended slip of my tongue.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat while letting out a cough. “So, what do you want to order?”

“Sorry, it’s just, the dishes you’re ordering are kind of....” My voice trails off into an uneasy silence, gradually fading as I find him once again looking at me unsettlingly.

“Just, pasta,” I awkwardly whispered.

“Carbonara for the lady,” he tells the server without leaving his glance at me.

As she wrote down everything, and before even getting the chance to ask, he had already answered. “Just iced water for the drinks.”

The waitress finally walks away, leaving us in solitude, and he finally releases the unsettling stare he had been holding me captive with. That was intense. Suddenly, it was all awkward again. The not-so-silent ambient, and us facing each other with nothing to keep each other busy is uncomfortable.

“Okay,” I chose to break the awkwardness once again. “Isn’t it weird to take a stranger out to dinner?” I crossed my arms at him.

He let out a scoff before answering, “And agreeing to that doesn’t make you weirder?”

“No. You see, I’m just in a bit of a desperate situation here, and I’m not in the place to refuse help.”

“And I’m just trying to be a good person by helping this desperate lady,” he responds sarcastically.

“f*****g rude.”

I roll my eyes at him after seeing a faint grin tug at the corner of his lips as he catches me whispering a cuss.

“Why would you help me when you don’t even want to?” I sighed out of annoyance.

“Good point. You embarrassed me in front of the crowd and I even brought your bags back to you,” he scoffed.

“I don’t get you.”

“I’m just helping a fellow kababayan out,” he stated, making me let out a gasp.

My brows furrowed in disbelief. “You’re Filipino?!” My voice echoes off the walls, making heads turn to our table.

“Do I not look like one?”

I shook my head immediately, still in shock.

“Well, that’s a compliment.” He nods.

I cleared my throat as I positioned myself uncomfortably in my seat to stare at him closely. “You’re lying!” I exclaimed. His eyes remain fixed on me, the corner of his lips curling upwards ever so slightly like he’s treating my shockness as entertainment.

“Wait, let me guess... White dad?” I asked, eager to hear his response.

“I don’t have a dad.”

I loosened my shoulders and let my back lean on the sofa. “Sorry..” I sighed. He didn’t seem troubled and immediately broke the silence. “What about you?” he brings me back the question.

I shook my head again, “White mom.”

“Hold on...” I took a pause and gradually drew my brows together again. “How’d you know I’m Filipino?” I posed at him.

“It’s on your suitcases.”

The servers promptly approached our booth with our orders on the trays. My teeth sank onto my lower lip when the steaming plate of carbonara was placed before me, igniting the hunger within me.

My hand darted to the silverware on my right, grasping the fork with an urgency to feed myself, totally ignoring his presence. The hunger I felt slowly began fading as I hurriedly savored the pasta.

“You can take your time to chew. No one’s going to steal that.”

It wasn’t until he spoke again, preparing to take his first bite of the meal when I had already finished half, that I suddenly became aware of his presence. I gulped down the bites I was eating.

“Right. Thank you, for this.” Warmth spread across my face as a genuine smile bloomed in response, banishing the remaining doubts I had. I glanced at a small grin on his face as the coldness in his eyes faded before I returned my attention to my food.

Minutes passed by unnoticed as I savored each flavorful bite, that I even forgot about the desperate situation I am in.

“Thanks, again,” I told him as he takes a sip of his water.

I wipe my lips with a tissue as he responds to my gratitude. “I feel like you’ve tamed when you found out we’re the same race.”

I let out a small chuckle. “I’m Alili, by the way,” I introduced myself with a hand ready to shake his.

Now that he appears to be a fellow citizen who just had the urge to help me through my stupid situation, I feel kind of bombed out for being such a wreck to him a little while ago. And since I need to repay his kindness, might as well create an acquaintance here who shares the same homeland as I do.

My hand remains untouched as he left the gesture hanging on the air, leaving an uneasy tension between us. I slowly took my hand back and placed it on my lap after his rejection. Alright. I shouldn’t be too comfortable, I guess. But whatever, it doesn’t really bother me.

“I apologize,” he shatters the silence.

I lift my glass of water to my lips as he continues to speak. “I just don’t want to get too friendly with a married woman.”

Water cascades down my throat, almost choking me mid-sip as his words hit me like a tidal wave. I struggled to cough while grabbing a bunch of tissue papers.

“I am not married.”

That title would be the most absurd thing I can be labeled as. I was a month away from being a bride just a month ago, and here I am eating dinner with a stranger the night before my supposed wedding. Although it was a mutual agreement to call the wedding off, I still appear as a runaway bride who left her fiancè for parties and wine bottles in Paris.

He concerningly nods and apologizes. “Engaged?”

“No.” And definitely never again.

I left the Philippines because it was intolerable and intoxicating. It was a beautiful country, in some aspects. The places and certain cultures, to be specific, not the people and its government, as a matter of course. Well, not every person is bad. Just everyone I have been involved with. And not all the cultures are beautiful. Especially, that tradition of parents shaming their daughters in their mid 20s for not marrying just yet. Just envision being invited to a family reunion only to sit there and get hit by Gusto mo ba kaming mamatay nang walang apo? Malapit ka na mag trenta, hindi ka pa kasal. Tatanda kang walang mag-aalaga sa 'yo, sige ka. And ends up wanting to be a wife out of guilt and pressure.

I figured he noticed something was up after almost drowning over a glass of water by asking those questions as he looks at me full of concern. Or, perhaps embarrassment.

“Should we have some alcohol?” he asks, inviting me to drink with him. His keen observation might’ve led to him finding out my unspoken desire for some wine.

I subtly nod my head to reply. “I guess a glass of wine won’t hurt,” I said.

“Why? Do you easily get drunk?” he scoffed, creating an annoying tone for me.

“I never get drunk,” I affirmed confidently as he raised his hand to ask for a server.

“Two glasses of white wine, please,” he tells the waiter hesitantly.

“Why? Do you easily get drunk?” I returned his question back to him, leaving him with much annoyance. I don’t know why we’re suddenly competing over this, but I am not letting him win.

Before the waiter could return to the counter, he interjected once more. “Two bottles of champagne, rather,” he orders as I stare at him with a competitive smirk.

As consciousness slowly strikes back into my senses, a wave of extreme pain floods my throat and my stomach causing me to groan and wince in discomfort as I curl my body. My eyes felt so heavy to open that I had to blink several times to fully see.

My hand made its way to my head as I find myself covered in sheets on an unfamiliar bed. I hurriedly sat up when my vision finally cleared— only to see the back of a naked man standing across the room. s**t.