"From Denpasar to Danbury: Pushing the White Horse"
Chapter 1:
The blonde walked into the bedroom with a steely determination etched on her face. While she furiously dug through drawers and ransacked the lavish apartment only to come up empty-handed, her sullen partner sat motionless on the crisp white bed sheets.
"Are you off the phone now? It wasn't in the bathroom, either. Did you look at all while I was out?"
When her interrogation appeared to fall on deaf ears, she tried again, this time appealing to the dark haired woman's emotions, "Alex, I understand you're upset, but could you at least acknowledge I'm a person who is speaking? If I miss this flight I'm screwed…Alex! Passport! Hello?"
"My mom just died."
The statement hung in the air. The blonde's search was instantly forgotten as she tried to comprehend what she had just been told. She finally found her voice as she gently approached her distraught partner, "What?"
The brunette turned to consider her fair-skinned lover, "My aunt just called up…it happened this morning, I guess."
The blonde's forlorn expression spoke of the heartbreak she knew her partner must be feeling as she drew the taller woman into a comforting embrace, "Oh, Alex. I'm so sorry."
Alex's response was a mirthless little laugh filled with both irony and disbelief, "My first instinct was to call her to talk about it."
The smaller woman leaned back to look the brunette in eyes, "What happened?"
Shaking her head in confusion, Alex replied with a voice tinged with tearful regret, "An aneurysm…I don't know…my aunt said so many things I don't even remember now."
In that moment, the blonde shifted comfortably into the role of the pacifist for she was a perpetual people-pleaser, always avoiding conflict, "What can I do?"
This was the only incentive the brunette needed to transition into full business mode. Fortunately, her work had prepared her with a sharp mind as well as the ability to operate effectively during stressful situations. Without thinking, she lifted herself off the bed and began devising a plan, "I don't know. I mean, I need to fly home. I need to figure out the funeral because there's no one else to do it."
Although uncertain of where she fit into this scenario considering the circumstances, the blonde simply agreed, "Okay."
The brunette took this reaction to mean that their recent standoff was either in a recess or had ended altogether, "Will you see if you could find us two seats out on a flight today?"
The smaller woman blinked briefly and forced her eyes to focus on anything other than the woman with whom she had spent the better part of her 20s. For this reason, she chose her next words carefully, "Al, I can't go with you."
Alex's expression offered no hint of the turmoil and astonishment she felt, "What?"
By this point, the flaxen-haired beauty had composed herself into a remarkably calm state and was able to easily articulate her thoughts as she spoke in an even tone, "I am so sorry about your mom…but this doesn't change anything."
Alex could not believe what she was hearing. She could not keep the incredulous sob from stifling her voice as she spoke to the only woman she had ever allowed herself to love, "You're still leaving? Right now? My mother just died. I can't fucking believe you!"
This rare display of vulnerability by the brunette did nothing to deter the smaller woman from the decision she had made, "I can't be your girlfriend anymore."
Alex was quick to reply with an attempt to shame the blonde for her choices, "Yeah, and apparently not even my friend." The brunette quickly avoided finishing the argument. Deep down she knew she had already lost, "…top drawer, underneath my T-shirts."
The fuming blonde strode across the room to the dresser, "Jesus, Alex! You fucking hid it?" She quickly pushed the clothing aside and brandished the recently misplaced passport.
The brunette offered no defense for her actions. She simply dissolved into an imbroglio of tears and allowed herself to beg, "Please don't leave. Not now."
The blonde fixed the other woman with a look of disdain and with that stare she turned her back on the one thing that had been the primary form of constancy in her life, as fleeting and feeble as it was. Once she reached the doorway, she gripped the handle of her suitcase and never offered a look back.
Once outside the blonde stood on the Parisian street and considered her options. She was immediately hit with a wave sights and sounds. The sidewalk teemed with characters from every walk of life and the air was thick with the sweet, yeasty smells rolling from the bistro on the corner…the one Alex liked to bring her coffee from. All of her senses were delightfully abuzz despite the ugliness of what had just transpired in the room upstairs. And anyway she was tired of living on Alex's time.
Today might be the last day she ever spent in Europe and she didn't want to hurry. Aéroport Paris–Charles de Gaulle would always be there tonight or tomorrow. Besides she had already almost missed her flight because she couldn't find her passport.
They had been in Paris for six months, yet there was so much she hadn't been able to see or do. She had spent most of her time waiting around the apartment hoping Alex would join her, but the brunette was always too busy.
One of the places she really wanted to go was Les Deux Magots. She knew it was a popular tourist attraction because it has once been a trendy hang out for famous intellectuals in the earlier part of the 20th century. This is what really attracted her literary mind. She remembered that the café was once frequented by the likes of Hemingway, Camus, Joyce, and Brecht. It was actually amazing she and Alex hadn't checked it out, considering how literary they both were.
With her mind made up she started to make her way to the nearest Station de Taxi, but second guessing herself, she decided she would rather walk. She knew it would take longer to walk from their apartment in the Le Marais district of the 4th arrondissement to Saint Germain, but she knew the sights would be better. Le Marais was the unofficial gay mecca of Paris and while it was generally a fun place to hang out, she decided that spending a little of Alex's money in the ritzy-er Saint Germain district might do her heart some good.
Roughly half an hour later she managed to grab an outdoor table at the café. It had just been vacated by a gorgeous couple whose obvious affection for one another made her heart lurch, but she couldn't be picky when it appeared every other table was taken. Once she was seated she took a quick peek at the café menu and ordered Foie gras de canard et toasts Poilâne and a cold Café Viennois. She wanted to add a Pousse Café for drinking after her coffee, but the pronunciation tended to send her into a fit of giggles so she had always made Alex order it for her. Alex sounded much sexier saying it than she did, anyhow.
Just as she was cursing herself for thinking of Alex, a dark haired man across from her folded his newspaper and waved at her to catch her attention, "Are you American?"
She blushed slightly, "Yes, was my French that terrible?"
He laughed, "No, not at all…there was only a slight detection of an accent." He then, stood up from his table and made his way over to hers, taking a sit in the empty chair.
She raised her eyebrows at the casualness of the action. He caught her expression and held up his hands, "Sorry. Hi, my name's Larry. I'm not usually this forward, but would you care to share a table with me? It's just that I've been on assignment here for 2 weeks and to be honest, I have exhausted all of the French I know and it would be really nice to carry on a conversation with another American." He then leaned in conspiratorially, "Besides, in case you haven't noticed, some of these Frenchies are assholes."
Although, his assessment was crude, she laughed despite herself. He then gave her a boyish look, "So….?"
She bit the inside of her bottom lip…he was definitely no Alex. But he would do. In place of an affirmative answer, she raised her hand across the tabletop, "It's Piper. Pleasure to meet you."