April 29, 1974

Adjusting to life in Paris had proved easier than Victoria originally thought. It had only been a little over a week since she'd arrived, but she had already managed to get her dorm room in order and scope out the surrounding area in an attempt to better acquaint herself with what was to become her home for the next two years. The cost of her textbooks had been covered by her scholarship, and she'd already met with her counselor to pick out a schedule. Unfortunately, the spring term had commenced in January- which meant she wouldn't be able to start her classes until fall- but at least it gave her time to brush up on her French while she waited. She had taken classes in elementary school and done exceptionally well in them, which gave her something to go on.

Her roommate, Bernadette, was a wealthy girl from Bordeaux with evident breeding and the most beautiful clothes Victoria had ever seen, but so far she had been kind. This was a relief to Victoria since, at first, she was sure the girl would look down of her for having so few things to call her own. Instead, Bernadette seemed fascinated by her. She had already asked Victoria for help with her English and, in turn, promised to show her around campus and introduce her to a few friends. For this, Victoria was grateful.

But despite all the promise her new life held, Victoria still found herself grieving the loss of her baby boy. He occupied the majority of her thoughts almost every day, and the idea of Jimmy finding him continued to haunt her- so much so that she had begun having nightmares. What would happen if Jimmy managed to get his hands on her son? Would Patrick grow up hating her for abandoning him? Would he ever know the truth? It was questions like these that continued to pique Victoria's anxiety. Being thousands of miles away from Jimmy may have given her back a sense of safety she would never again feel in new York, but it didn't keep her from worrying about the safety of her son. Not a day went by that she didn't think about Patrick or miss him. He was the light of her life and always would be, no matter what.

Today, Victoria decided to go against her usual routine. So far she had spent most of her time reading through art books in the school library, but, as someone who was trying to re-invent herself, she figured it was time to create some distance between her old life and her new one. Borrowing one of her roommate's fashion magazines, she fetched a coat and a pair of sandals before heading out to the nearest cafe. Once there, she ordered herself a cup of Earl Grey and tried her best not to spit it out with every sip. It wasn't easy.

As she flipped through the magazine pages, Victoria found herself fascinated by the glamour they held. The extravagant dresses, the articles, the perfume ads… they all came from such a foreign world to her. Just looking at the clothes alone made her wish she had the resources to afford them. And the models… they were extraordinary. For all of the compliments she had received since she was a child, Victoria had never been able to recognize her own beauty. In fact, the more men told her she was beautiful the less she felt inclined to believe them. If there was one thing she'd learned as she got older, it was that men only ever wanted one thing- and that they would say anything they could in order to get it.

She was halfway through the magazine when a vaguely familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Enjoying yourself?"

It was the boy from the flea market. Pascal.

"I was, until you interrupted me."

She was surprised at how cold the words had sounded when they escaped her lips, but the young man didn't seem to be fazed. He let out an amused laugh before getting up from his table and taking the seat across from her.

"You didn't strike me as the type who would enjoy a fashion magazine."

Victoria flashed him an annoyed look, "And why is that?"

"It isn't you," he shrugged.

"You don't even know me."

Pascal laughed, "Maybe if you hadn't run off before telling me your name we would have been friends already."

Victoria searched his eyes for insincerity but failed to find anything in them other than genuine interest. She hated to admit it, but there was something inevitably likable about this boy… a certain charm. It didn't help that his tousled hair and carefree smile made him quite attractive.

"I'm sorry about running off," she said, "My name is Victoria."

"Victoria?"

"Well, most people call me Vicky."

He studied her a bit before answering, "Victoria suits you better."

Back home almost no one had addressed her using her full name, but perhaps this could be one of the changes she made while here.

"Victoria's fine."

"Good," he smiled.

She hated how charming he was. There was such an effortless confidence about him that she couldn't help but envy.

"How did you find me here?"

"I come here often," he responded. "The owner's a family friend."

"Oh. So you haven't been following me," she said taking another sip of her tea.

"I haven't," he laughed.

It was so strange the way nothing she said to him seemed to wound his pride. Her biting remarks just rolled off his back as if she hadn't meant them. He seemed so taken by her and yet Victoria couldn't understand why. She should be doing everything in her power to push him away… but perhaps she was just as taken by him as he was by her.

"I really am sorry for leaving you at the flea market like that," she said, "And for making you spill your flowers."

"Don't worry. I was still able to sell most of them."

"Most of them?" she frowned.

"Some lost too many petals when they fell."

He wasn't the slightest bit angry, but Victoria still felt guilty for costing him a greater payday.

"I can make it up to you," she offered.

"You don't have to do that."

"Why not?"

"It wasn't your fault."

Victoria gave a puzzled look, "It was, I bumped into you."

"You were having a bad day," he shrugged, "and I wasn't paying attention."

It was then Victoria realized that Pascal's cool-headed, bordering on arrogant, exterior masked a genuinely compassionate heart. One she hadn't initially suspected was there.

"This time it's my turn to leave you," he said. "I have to be home in time to help maman make dinner."

Victoria gave him a smile.

"Stop by my booth tomorrow?" he asked.

"I'd love to."

"Great, I will see you then."

And with that, he was gone.