As twilight fell over Paris, it was as though reality loosened its hold. The ancient and modern buildings battled for domination of the street, and of one’s senses. The juxtaposition of old and new was on the precipice of being overwhelming. We were all caught in limbo between the past and present.
Limbo wasn’t a good place for me. My thoughts sprang out and ranged in all directions, with nothing solid to contain them. There were no comforting boundaries in the area between dreams and reason, and nowhere to hide.
I told myself that I shouldn’t the horizon, that I don’t need boundaries, I would be better if I faced the world head on.
I was lying.
Ignorance truly is bliss. Sometimes I feel like I am a weakling, for not wanting the ugly truth, but life is so much easier when आप don’t know what makes people cry at night.
Art is simpler, it doesn’t have emotions, and it can’t leave you. It doesn’t need आप to feel its pain.
My daughter thrived in Paris, I could tell. Her eyes hungrily scanned the churches and shops, absorbing the atmosphere. Paris had always been Mona’s dream, so we went, her to see the wonders, me to face the past that I had been running from
for far too long.
We walked down the streets, simply looking. Mona had drifted away from me to talk to a book vendor. I knew we were near the café. As though my thought had called it into existence, I could suddenly see it, the signature red-and-white striped awnings gently flapping in the early evening breeze. I couldn’t go it go in, I just couldn’t. And yet-
“Mona,” I called, the words slipping from my lips. She turned to face me, saying goodbye to her book vendor friend. “You want to eat?” I asked. We had finally come to the café. Trois Fourchettes et Une Cuillere hadn’t changed at all since I came here in college with him. Even the tablecloths were the same ones we had laughed over. It was our, me and Mona’s, last night there; we had a flight in the morning. Suddenly, I knew that I couldn’t leave Paris without facing the place.
Mona examined the café, combing it with the same intensity that she had taken in the view of Paris with. A smile formed on her soft mouth, as she nodded eagerly.
We walked into the café. It smelled the same, just the same as when he had taken me here. I was struggling. It was so tempting to fall into a sea of memories, to forget that I stood here with the one person I loved most in the world. But I couldn’t, because Mona needed me in this strange city.
I needed her to need me.
As we crossed the threshold, the maitre d’ walked up and gave us his typical once-over. I couldn’t believe that Jacques still worked here. Back when I had come here with Paul, we had always laughed at Jacques, the haughty French waiter who hated his job. Seeing him made me want to cry, because he was the same, and I was barely recognizable as the person who had come here years before.
Jacques began speaking, but the words came at me from the other end of a tunnel. I wasn’t sure I could take it, being there.
No. Mona had been strong for me, even when I knew I was the one that should be comforting her. I couldn’t let that happen again. Paris was Mona’s dream and I refused to ruin her last night there द्वारा running back to the hotel. It was just a building. Just a collection of bricks, drywall, and roofing propped up in a square. I shouldn’t let it have power over me. But it still did.
I looked down at Mona and saw her staring up at me expectantly. “What did he say?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t important.
“You’re the French scholar,” She responded. I shrugged.
Jacques was looking at us again. I knew what was coming. “Vous êtes ingnorant Américaines. De cette façon, s’il vous plait.” He really hadn’t changed, I reflected. I had been greeted this way so many times before, albeit under different circumstances. Paul had always come with me; I had never been there without him. I felt breakable, like it wouldn’t take much to shatter the illusion of control I had built for Mona.
Jacques stalked off without a glance back to us.
Mona looked shocked. “What now?” she asked me.
“Follow him, I guess,” I replied, feeling like I viewed events from the wrong end of a telescope.
“With your different colored eyes, poor Jacques must have really thought we were crazy Americans!” I कहा once we were seated. Even to my own ears, that joke sounded weak.
Mona winked her trademark eyes, one green and one blue
We sat down at a small तालिका, टेबल in the corner of the café. Jacques left us with his customary haste, eager to be rid of our company. Parisians surrounded us, talking the night away, and tuxedo clad waiters ran about. Mona and I fell into a companionable silence, just taking in the atmosphere, but for different reasons.
That was when I saw him.
He was there. Paul. He was there. It couldn’t be, not after all these years. No, it wasn’t him… No, it was.
He was walking behind Jacques, on his way to a table. A small, sad smile filled the familiar face. He walked the same; his face was the same, just with और lines and gray in his hair.
I couldn’t stop staring at him, my eyes taking him in.
He was looking at me too. Our eyes locked. He looked away, staring ahead of himself, not looking right या left.
He was there; and I was there. All of a sudden the dam broke. Memories tumbled over me, each sharper and clearer than the last. I remembered the दिन we met, at this very café. The dates we went on, the delicious, scary, exhilarating feeling of falling in love. All the memories that I had tried to repress returned to me, and they came with a vengeance. The fights, each one growing worse than the last. His drinking, my fear. The way his face no longer lit up when he saw me. The दिन he left. The दिन he left. The दिन he left.
The दिन I had Mona, and how her eyes were just like his. Watching her grow, loving her, wishing he was there. But he never was, and never knew.
Paul walked behind me and took his seat. He had come alone. I glanced at Mona, comparing her face to his. She was looking from me to Paul, her eyes puzzled.
I needed to focus on her. I pulled myself from my memories, locking them away, where they only came out at night.
I popped an जैतून from the तालिका, टेबल into my mouth, wincing as the strong saltiness burst over my tongue. “These things are salty, aren’t they darling?” I asked. Mona, Mona, focus on Mona.
“Oh yeah, really salty.” Mona agreed, nodding. “Very much so.”
Her eyes were intuitive. She couldn’t know. Couldn’t know that she had been an accident, that her father didn’t know she was alive. I had been stupid, but really I was trying to be the best mother I could.
“I wonder what I’ll get,” I mused, hoping to distract Mona from what I considered a dangerous train of thought.
I looked down at the menu, but I was लॉस्ट in contemplation. I knew that he saw me, but I didn’t know what he thought. Was he happy, या angry that I had come there? His normally expressive face had been blank when he looked at me. But he hadn’t glanced right through me either. That was something. I was still someone to him, I just didn’t know who.
Mona couldn’t know. That much I was certain of. She had rarely asked about her father, and when she did, I never told her his name. She was a beautiful, amazing person and had gotten to be that way without Paul in her life.
The small, reasonable voice in my head told me that it wasn’t Paul’s fault he had no contact with her. I had made the decision not to tell him, soon after we ended things. And I didn’t need him. I had done a damn good job with Mona; as good as he could have done, if not better.
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been there. And if I had told him he would have done the decent thing and married me, the thing that was expected of him. I couldn’t have told him, my pride wouldn’t let me.
Jacques had returned. He stood over us, waiting.
“Mona,” I called. She seemed to return to her body.
I truly looked at the menu for the first time, scanning the familiar rows.
“Le poisson s’il vous plait,” I decided, asking for the fish.
After Mona had ordered, Jacques left, walking in the stiff, trademark way of his. Paul had always had a joke about Jacques, but I could not remember it anymore. Funny how the good times blurred together and each moment of the bad stood out. I figured that कहा something about human nature, but I was suddenly too tired to think.
I wanted to go back to the hotel, and to forget this disastrous दिन entirely. Paul needed to be far, far away from me and my thoughts.
I met Mona’s eyes, and smiled, glad that she wasn’t talking much. I think she knew I needed to think.
I chanced a glance behind me, on the pretense of adjusting my purse. Paul was लेखन in a small black notebook. He still carried it around? Even during out short days together, he had always carried with him that same little book, jotting thoughts, poems, songs and ideas down.
Again, I looked at Mona, guilty for having had almost no conversation with her. She was staring at a point behind my shoulder, her face both prying and scared of what she might find. Her eyes were boring holes in whatever she was fixed on, and I knew it was Paul. How much had she detected? I thought I was great at disguising emotions, and it had worked so many times before.
Mona was completely unaware that I was looking at her, so intense was her focus. I saw resolve slowly form on her features.
She knew. It must have been the eyes. They were exactly the same, down to the flecks of color in the irises. Paul was her father, and she knew it. Intuition told me so. What was I going to say? I knew Mona, and I knew a confrontation was coming. She was too direct to be silent.
What could I tell her? The truth? It was ugly. My life had been far from a fairy tale, and my prince was a writer with different colored eyes who didn’t प्यार me anymore. Did Mona really want to know that?
I had only a few सेकंड्स before she would ask. I had never lied to Mona, except t protect her. Was this one of those times?
Her mouth opened.
“Angela?” She asked, voice shaking slightly, “Who is that man over there?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, taking refuge in the darkness.
When I opened them, I could tell she already knew.
Limbo wasn’t a good place for me. My thoughts sprang out and ranged in all directions, with nothing solid to contain them. There were no comforting boundaries in the area between dreams and reason, and nowhere to hide.
I told myself that I shouldn’t the horizon, that I don’t need boundaries, I would be better if I faced the world head on.
I was lying.
Ignorance truly is bliss. Sometimes I feel like I am a weakling, for not wanting the ugly truth, but life is so much easier when आप don’t know what makes people cry at night.
Art is simpler, it doesn’t have emotions, and it can’t leave you. It doesn’t need आप to feel its pain.
My daughter thrived in Paris, I could tell. Her eyes hungrily scanned the churches and shops, absorbing the atmosphere. Paris had always been Mona’s dream, so we went, her to see the wonders, me to face the past that I had been running from
for far too long.
We walked down the streets, simply looking. Mona had drifted away from me to talk to a book vendor. I knew we were near the café. As though my thought had called it into existence, I could suddenly see it, the signature red-and-white striped awnings gently flapping in the early evening breeze. I couldn’t go it go in, I just couldn’t. And yet-
“Mona,” I called, the words slipping from my lips. She turned to face me, saying goodbye to her book vendor friend. “You want to eat?” I asked. We had finally come to the café. Trois Fourchettes et Une Cuillere hadn’t changed at all since I came here in college with him. Even the tablecloths were the same ones we had laughed over. It was our, me and Mona’s, last night there; we had a flight in the morning. Suddenly, I knew that I couldn’t leave Paris without facing the place.
Mona examined the café, combing it with the same intensity that she had taken in the view of Paris with. A smile formed on her soft mouth, as she nodded eagerly.
We walked into the café. It smelled the same, just the same as when he had taken me here. I was struggling. It was so tempting to fall into a sea of memories, to forget that I stood here with the one person I loved most in the world. But I couldn’t, because Mona needed me in this strange city.
I needed her to need me.
As we crossed the threshold, the maitre d’ walked up and gave us his typical once-over. I couldn’t believe that Jacques still worked here. Back when I had come here with Paul, we had always laughed at Jacques, the haughty French waiter who hated his job. Seeing him made me want to cry, because he was the same, and I was barely recognizable as the person who had come here years before.
Jacques began speaking, but the words came at me from the other end of a tunnel. I wasn’t sure I could take it, being there.
No. Mona had been strong for me, even when I knew I was the one that should be comforting her. I couldn’t let that happen again. Paris was Mona’s dream and I refused to ruin her last night there द्वारा running back to the hotel. It was just a building. Just a collection of bricks, drywall, and roofing propped up in a square. I shouldn’t let it have power over me. But it still did.
I looked down at Mona and saw her staring up at me expectantly. “What did he say?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t important.
“You’re the French scholar,” She responded. I shrugged.
Jacques was looking at us again. I knew what was coming. “Vous êtes ingnorant Américaines. De cette façon, s’il vous plait.” He really hadn’t changed, I reflected. I had been greeted this way so many times before, albeit under different circumstances. Paul had always come with me; I had never been there without him. I felt breakable, like it wouldn’t take much to shatter the illusion of control I had built for Mona.
Jacques stalked off without a glance back to us.
Mona looked shocked. “What now?” she asked me.
“Follow him, I guess,” I replied, feeling like I viewed events from the wrong end of a telescope.
“With your different colored eyes, poor Jacques must have really thought we were crazy Americans!” I कहा once we were seated. Even to my own ears, that joke sounded weak.
Mona winked her trademark eyes, one green and one blue
We sat down at a small तालिका, टेबल in the corner of the café. Jacques left us with his customary haste, eager to be rid of our company. Parisians surrounded us, talking the night away, and tuxedo clad waiters ran about. Mona and I fell into a companionable silence, just taking in the atmosphere, but for different reasons.
That was when I saw him.
He was there. Paul. He was there. It couldn’t be, not after all these years. No, it wasn’t him… No, it was.
He was walking behind Jacques, on his way to a table. A small, sad smile filled the familiar face. He walked the same; his face was the same, just with और lines and gray in his hair.
I couldn’t stop staring at him, my eyes taking him in.
He was looking at me too. Our eyes locked. He looked away, staring ahead of himself, not looking right या left.
He was there; and I was there. All of a sudden the dam broke. Memories tumbled over me, each sharper and clearer than the last. I remembered the दिन we met, at this very café. The dates we went on, the delicious, scary, exhilarating feeling of falling in love. All the memories that I had tried to repress returned to me, and they came with a vengeance. The fights, each one growing worse than the last. His drinking, my fear. The way his face no longer lit up when he saw me. The दिन he left. The दिन he left. The दिन he left.
The दिन I had Mona, and how her eyes were just like his. Watching her grow, loving her, wishing he was there. But he never was, and never knew.
Paul walked behind me and took his seat. He had come alone. I glanced at Mona, comparing her face to his. She was looking from me to Paul, her eyes puzzled.
I needed to focus on her. I pulled myself from my memories, locking them away, where they only came out at night.
I popped an जैतून from the तालिका, टेबल into my mouth, wincing as the strong saltiness burst over my tongue. “These things are salty, aren’t they darling?” I asked. Mona, Mona, focus on Mona.
“Oh yeah, really salty.” Mona agreed, nodding. “Very much so.”
Her eyes were intuitive. She couldn’t know. Couldn’t know that she had been an accident, that her father didn’t know she was alive. I had been stupid, but really I was trying to be the best mother I could.
“I wonder what I’ll get,” I mused, hoping to distract Mona from what I considered a dangerous train of thought.
I looked down at the menu, but I was लॉस्ट in contemplation. I knew that he saw me, but I didn’t know what he thought. Was he happy, या angry that I had come there? His normally expressive face had been blank when he looked at me. But he hadn’t glanced right through me either. That was something. I was still someone to him, I just didn’t know who.
Mona couldn’t know. That much I was certain of. She had rarely asked about her father, and when she did, I never told her his name. She was a beautiful, amazing person and had gotten to be that way without Paul in her life.
The small, reasonable voice in my head told me that it wasn’t Paul’s fault he had no contact with her. I had made the decision not to tell him, soon after we ended things. And I didn’t need him. I had done a damn good job with Mona; as good as he could have done, if not better.
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been there. And if I had told him he would have done the decent thing and married me, the thing that was expected of him. I couldn’t have told him, my pride wouldn’t let me.
Jacques had returned. He stood over us, waiting.
“Mona,” I called. She seemed to return to her body.
I truly looked at the menu for the first time, scanning the familiar rows.
“Le poisson s’il vous plait,” I decided, asking for the fish.
After Mona had ordered, Jacques left, walking in the stiff, trademark way of his. Paul had always had a joke about Jacques, but I could not remember it anymore. Funny how the good times blurred together and each moment of the bad stood out. I figured that कहा something about human nature, but I was suddenly too tired to think.
I wanted to go back to the hotel, and to forget this disastrous दिन entirely. Paul needed to be far, far away from me and my thoughts.
I met Mona’s eyes, and smiled, glad that she wasn’t talking much. I think she knew I needed to think.
I chanced a glance behind me, on the pretense of adjusting my purse. Paul was लेखन in a small black notebook. He still carried it around? Even during out short days together, he had always carried with him that same little book, jotting thoughts, poems, songs and ideas down.
Again, I looked at Mona, guilty for having had almost no conversation with her. She was staring at a point behind my shoulder, her face both prying and scared of what she might find. Her eyes were boring holes in whatever she was fixed on, and I knew it was Paul. How much had she detected? I thought I was great at disguising emotions, and it had worked so many times before.
Mona was completely unaware that I was looking at her, so intense was her focus. I saw resolve slowly form on her features.
She knew. It must have been the eyes. They were exactly the same, down to the flecks of color in the irises. Paul was her father, and she knew it. Intuition told me so. What was I going to say? I knew Mona, and I knew a confrontation was coming. She was too direct to be silent.
What could I tell her? The truth? It was ugly. My life had been far from a fairy tale, and my prince was a writer with different colored eyes who didn’t प्यार me anymore. Did Mona really want to know that?
I had only a few सेकंड्स before she would ask. I had never lied to Mona, except t protect her. Was this one of those times?
Her mouth opened.
“Angela?” She asked, voice shaking slightly, “Who is that man over there?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, taking refuge in the darkness.
When I opened them, I could tell she already knew.
im so sick.
im sick of everything about you.
i hate what आप say,
what आप do,
everything.
it sets off some spark,
that just angers me inside and out.
im so sick.
im sick of your laugh,
your smile,
your eyes,
everything.
i hate how आप talk to me,
how आप treat me,
what आप think of me as.
im not your toy,
im not your anything.
i dont belong to you,
im not a possession.
im just me.
and im so sick.
sick of everything in this godforsaken world.
especially you.
and i dont want to be something
that hates and is sick
of everything.
im just sick of you.
and honestly...
i dont want to be with you
anymore.
im so sick.
im sick of everything about you.
i hate what आप say,
what आप do,
everything.
it sets off some spark,
that just angers me inside and out.
im so sick.
im sick of your laugh,
your smile,
your eyes,
everything.
i hate how आप talk to me,
how आप treat me,
what आप think of me as.
im not your toy,
im not your anything.
i dont belong to you,
im not a possession.
im just me.
and im so sick.
sick of everything in this godforsaken world.
especially you.
and i dont want to be something
that hates and is sick
of everything.
im just sick of you.
and honestly...
i dont want to be with you
anymore.
im so sick.