Paris Diaries: J'Adore

"And all the roads that lead to you were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
I don't know how

I said maybe
You're gonna be the one who saves me" Wonderwall by Oasis

I can't sleep and so I sit up naked in the Paris moon and look and wonder about how I ended up here. The sauvage wakes and pulls me back into bed, under the covers. It's hot, but I lie there anyway. It's been so long since someone snuggled up to me in his sleep, even if it is becoming uncomfortably hot for me. In the morning, very early, before the sun is up, before the alarm goes off, he pulls me on top of him. If I turn my head to one side I can look out and see Paris and if I turn to other I can see my Parisian paramour writhing beneath me. "I adore you" he says in French over and over. He stops me for a moment and says "I will always remember you like this." I think it's a nice way to be remembered-naked and passionate.

But it's time to go. A quick shower and we head to the car. I am one of those check in two hours early kind of person. I get to my gate with five minutes to check in. He pulls me and kisses. He's sad. I can see it. He turns to get back in the car and then turns back and kisses me again. He holds me. "I have to go now" I whisper. "I know." He doesn't say good-bye, just "a beintot"-later.

I run into the gate and check in with 2 minutes to spare, the closest I have ever cut it. Suddenly I am drenched in a cold sweat that I will not make the flight.

But I make the flight easily. The plane is delayed and so I even have time to shop at the duty free. And I wonder as I sit with a cup of coffee why I was so anxious to make this flight back. I mean, is anyone waiting for me? A call to Bakerina would make sure the cat was taken care of for another few days, but really I could have stayed. But then things ended so perfectly, so much more like a movie than life, particularly my life, that I couldn't regret how things turned out.

When I land I am inevitably disappointed by the voicemail. One always assumes one is more important than one is. But I return my few phone messages as I wait for my luggage. Safely ensconced in a cab, I call Bakerina who is always the best person to ease my transition. We agree to meet for lunch, as long as it isn't French food (my stipulation). We finally get a table at Firenze and treat ourselves to a decadent lunch while I gush about the details out of order.

When asked my feelings about the sauvage, I am typically distant and detached. We had a great time, and I would be happy to leave things as they are. Of course, I am denying the fact that I will be checking my email regularly to see if he writes and be overwhelmed with disappointment if he doesn't. Nope, I'm fine honey. Not waiting for a man to show up and make things better. Not me.

I go home and there is already an email from him waiting-hoping I had a nice trip and to email him back when I have a moment. But for now I'm exhausted. My ankles are still swollen and I know the one thing I need more than anything is to rest. I lie down in bed with my cat who is so pleased I have returned that she leaps around my head purring and licking my face and fall asleep thinking that maybe there is still some surprise left in the world.

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