Noah awoke the next morning with a renewed sense of purpose. It was still four-and-a-half hours until he would meet with Luke at the café they had been in last evening, but he counted down the minutes, playing his own version of what would happen that day through his head. He imagined them strolling the streets hand-in-hand as though they had nothing to hide from anyone. He imagined a picnic on a perfect spot of grass in a park surrounded by roses and nice weather. Most of all, he imagined Luke's lips on his—warm and wet with the slightest aftertaste of cinnamon.
Noah stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry. He wrapped the fluffy white towel around his waist and cleared the fog away from the mirror to shave. He nicked himself imagining what Luke might be wearing today (stripes or solids? The man was like a rack of pool balls). Once dry, dressed, and only partially mutilated by his distracted shave, Noah headed down to the lobby with a spring in his step and gave the concierge a nod. He stepped outside and took a breath, absorbing the energy of the city.
Noah looked at his watch and decided to walk around a bit. He passed busy restaurants and small, fashionable boutiques. He smiled and nodded at friendly passer-bys and all the while tried to guess what Luke's surprise was going to be.
Just after one, he stopped at the café he was meant to meet Luke in and ordered a latte. While waiting in line, Noah turned his head to a young woman crying at the table behind him. He ordered his drink and sat down at a table across from her. He flipped through a nearby magazine, pretending to know what the French words were reporting, and occasionally glanced up at the young woman in boots and a plunging neckline. She dabbed her eyes with a napkin, mascara running down her thin face and high cheekbones. The waiter came by and gave Noah his order. He thanked him and stirred his drink, watching as the woman blew her nose.
When curiosity got the best of Noah, he stood with his latte and hovered over her table. "Care for some company?" he asked. The woman blinked at him as she held a tissue close to her nose and Noah suddenly felt like an idiot for thinking this French woman would know what he was saying. "I'm sorry," he said. "Do you speaking English?"
She nodded and lowered her tissue. "Oh, yes," she said in a thick French accent. The woman sniffled and straightened in her chair. "I'm sorry, please sit down."
Noah sat and put his latte on the table. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I just . . . I saw you crying, and I was worried."
The woman laughed through her tears. "Merci, you are very kind." She held out a thin, frail hand with large metal bracelets clanging on her wrist. "I am Sofia."
"Noah," he said, taking her hand.
"Bonjour, Noah." Sofia blew her nose and wiped the mascara from under her large, brown eyes. "I must look like a, uh . . . a crazy person, sitting and crying to myself." She forced an amiable smile
Noah shook his head. "Not at all." He paused and cleared his throat. "If you want me to leave—"
"No, please stay," Sofia said, extending a hand to him. "It is very nice of you to be concerned. What part of America are you from?" she asked.
"Right now, I live in New York."
Sofia smiled genuinely. "I have yet to go. It is beautiful, no?"
Noah shrugged. "Not quite as romantic as Paris, but maybe that's just because I haven't been mugged enough over here."
Sofia let out a light, airy laugh. "I am glad you like my city," she said. She rummaged in her purse and took out a cigarette and lighter. "Pardon," she said, lighting up.
"So, if I may ask . . . why were you crying?" Noah asked.
Sofia blew out a puff of smoke away from Noah's general direction and picked a bit of tobacco from her full, ruby-red lips. She sniffled the last of her tears away. "I was crying for my mother."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Noah said. "Did she pass away?"
Sofia nodded and took a drag. "Oui, three years ago. My father just told me he is marrying again."
"Do you like her?"
Sofia frowned. "Bah, I hate her. She is a stupid cow and she thinks I am too skinny." Sofia muttered something in French, nasty words, Noah assumed, and she looked at him from across the table. "Oh, please excuse me, Noah, I am being very bad."
Noah smiled. "It's okay," he said. "I understand terrible parents."
Sofia took another drag and giggled. "So what brings you to Paris, mon ami?"
"I'm visiting my father. He's a Colonel in the army, he's here on business."
"Magnifique, my father is also in the army!" Sofia said.
"No kidding?" Noah said with a grin. "Small world."
"And you are enjoying your stay?" Sofia asked, tapping her ashes in the nearby tray.
"It's wonderful."
Sofia smiled. "You are having a romance, I can see."
Noah laughed. "How do you know?"
"It is in your eyes," she said, taking a puff on her cigarette. "When you live in the city of love, it is easy to see who is smitten." Sofia blew out smoke and wiggled her thin eyebrows. "What is her name?" she asked.
Noah felt his face become red. He leaned in closer, saying in a hushed tone, "His name is Luke."
Sofia's eyes widened. "Ah, un garcon! Très bon, mon ami. He is cute, no?"
Noah chuckled and nodded sheepishly. "Very handsome."
"What is he like?" Sofia asked, moving to the edge of her seat. She perched the cigarette on the ashtray and folded her hands under her chin, her elbows resting on the table.
Noah stared down at the table with a smile, thinking about Luke. "He's . . . very kind, very sweet. He's so smart, too, we talk about everything." Noah paused and looked at Sofia. "And when I'm with him everything else just kind of . . . falls away. I can be myself around him."
Sofia stared at him, lost in his reminiscence and probably trying to imagine what Luke looked like. "And you love him?" she asked.
Noah sighed. "Love." He rubbed the back of his neck. "That's a heavy word. I've only known him three days."
Sofia shrugged and stubbed her cigarette out. "Sometimes that is all it takes, mon ami."
"Yeah, but," Noah shook his head, "it's complicated."
"Perhaps you are making it too complicated. What does your heart say?"
Noah hesitated, watching as the used cigarette in the ashtray before him smothered out, leaving a winding, twisted trail of smoke in the air.
"Noah?"
He looked up at the voice calling to him and saw Luke standing over him. He stood and smiled. "Hey," he said.
"My class got out early," Luke said, giving Noah a peck on the cheek. He looked down at Sofia as she sat at the table. "Who's this?" he asked.
"This is Sofia," Noah said, motioning towards her. "Sofia, this is Luke."
Sofia stood and took Luke's hand in hers. "Enchanté." She looked Luke up and down and smiled at Noah. "You were right, he is very handsome." Sofia winked at Luke and gathered her purse. "Thank you so much for sitting with me, Noah. I am sorry I was a terrible bore."
Noah shook his head. "You weren't. It was great meeting you. And don't worry about your step-mother."
"Soon-to-be step-mother," Sofia said, raising a finger.
"Right," Noah said with a laugh.
"Au revoir, mon ami." She blew the boys a kiss and exited the café with all the pomp and show of a runway model.
Noah turned to Luke and gave him a long kiss on the cheek. "So what's the surprise?" he whispered in his ear.
"If I told you," Luke whispered back, "it wouldn't be a surprise."
0000000
They spent the afternoon visiting all the tourist traps Noah had yet to see—the Notre Dame cathedral, the Arc de Triumph, the boats along the Sein—each attraction leaving Noah guessing as to what Luke's surprise was.
Just after three in the afternoon, the boy's bought cheese and bread at a nearby delicatessen and rented a blanket in the park. They found a shady area under an oak tree and set up lunch, displaying fruit and cider and French chocolates. They lounged on their little spot on the hill, watching people throw Frisbees and couples snuggle together on sidewalk benches.
"Here," Noah said, extending a finger covered in chocolate, "try this."
Luke smiled and took Noah's finger in his mouth. He licked the chocolate clean, slowly releasing Noah's finger with his eyebrow raised. "Delicious," he said.
Noah laughed. "Are you trying to seduce me?"
"Me?" Luke cried. "You're the one asking me to lick chocolate off of your body!"
Noah laughed again, lying back on the blanket with his face towards the sun. He put his arm over his eyes and sighed greatly.
"What are you thinking?" Luke asked, lying on his side.
"I'm still wondering what your surprise is," Noah said with his arm still over his eyes.
"It's too early for that," Luke whispered into Noah's ear. He sat back and popped a grape into his mouth.
Noah took his arm away from his face and looked at Luke, squinting from the sun. "Luke?" he asked. "How did you tell your parents that you were . . . well, you know?"
Luke looked at him and smiled. "Gay?" He rolled over onto his stomach and laid on Noah's, chest putting his hand on his companion's belly. "It was hard. I tried to hide it for a long time, but one day it got to the breaking point and I just sort of . . . let it out."
"How did they respond?" Noah asked, running his fingers through Luke's hair.
"Well, my dad was more understanding about it, actually. My mom freaked out at first, she even wanted to send me to some camp that would make me straight . . . but in the end, they eventually understood and now they're okay with it."
Noah paused, moving his fingers down to stroke Luke's neck. "Were you scared?" he asked.
Luke sighed. "I was terrified," he said. "It's scary to find out that the only way you can be yourself is to be something other people might hate."
Noah considered Luke's words, let them sink in like a sponge absorbing water, and when the reality of what he was saying finally caught up to him, Noah put his other hand over his eyes and squeezed them shut tightly. Luke raised his head from Noah's chest and looked at him.
"Hey," he said softly, "are you okay?"
Noah sniffed and fought the tears welling in his eyes. "I don't want him to hate me," he said in a shaking voice.
Luke sat up and looked Noah over. "What?"
Noah wiped at the moisture under his eyes and tried vainly to control his emotions, but the concerned look on Luke's face was enough to break the dam and cause him to lose it. "He'll hate me," Noah whispered.
Luke took Noah's face in his hands. "No, he won't."
"Yes he will!" Noah cried. "He'll hate me! He'll send me away, he'll take me out of school, he'll—"
"He can't do that," Luke said calmly, trying to get Noah to listen.
"You don't know my father!" Noah said, pushing Luke's hands away from his face. "He already thinks I'm nothing, it'll destroy him when he finds out his only son his gay!" Noah sobbed and wiped his eyes. "I'm nothing, I'm shit—"
Luke got to his knees and pulled Noah in for a swift embrace. He held him tightly as Noah cried into his shoulder, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words in his ear. He rubbed Noah's back and let his lover's tears soak through his shirt, tiny droplets of pain Luke was helpless to stop. He took Noah's head in his hands again and forced him to look in his eyes.
"Listen to me," Luke said. "You are not nothing. You are a kind—" he kissed Noah's tear-stained cheek "wonderful—" moved his lips to Noah's brow "talented person." He kissed his warm forehead and wiped his tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "And I am crazy about you."
Noah smiled weakly at Luke, still sniffling from his tears.
"And if your father is too closed-minded to see that someone cares about you so much," Luke said, "then he doesn't matter."
Noah swallowed hard and shook his head. "I'm scared," he said.
Luke smiled weakly. "I know you are." He caressed his face. "But no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."
Noah looked at Luke, all of his hope, all of his pain, all of his fear concentrated in the swirling ocean of his eyes. He pulled Luke in closely and hugged his tightly, kissing his neck. "Thank you," he whispered.
Luke smiled. "Oui, mon coeur."
0000000
After a day of sight-seeing, picnicking in the park, and tearful confessions in the park, Noah found himself walking along the street with Luke, holding his hand and occasionally brushing his fingers along his back as they casually glanced in store windows and time-worn Parisian alleys. At around six-thirty, when the sun was just beginning to set and the streetlamps flared on, Luke stopped Noah on the sidewalk and told him to close his eyes.
"What's this?" Noah asked.
"It's part of your surprise," Luke said, "now close your eyes."
Noah did as he was instructed and was surprised when Luke put a silk cloth over his eyes. "You've been carrying this around in your back pocket all day?" Noah asked with a laugh as Luke blindfolded him.
"I wanted to be prepared," he said, tightening the scarf. "Ready?" Luke asked.
Noah nodded.
"No peeking." Luke hailed a taxi on the street and led a bumbling Noah into the car. They drove for what felt like an hour, but was probably only about ten minutes with Noah blindfolded, and came to a stop. Noah heard Luke pay the driver and stumbled out of the cab as Luke tried to help him.
"Watch your step," Luke said, leading him onto the curb.
"Where are we? Can I take this off yet—?"
Luke slapped Noah's hand away as he tried to pull the scarf up and took his hand to lead him up the sidewalk. "We're not there yet," he said.
Noah felt himself being led slowly down a path and nearly fell to the ground as his feet stepped on grass.
"Careful," Luke said, putting his hand on his back and helping him back to his feet.
"Where are we?" Noah cried, climbing the grass hill they were on like an infant learning to walk.
Luke walked in front of him and held onto his hands, guiding him to the top of the hill until the slope smooth off. "Okay," Luke said, moving around Luke. "On the count of three." He began removing Noah's blindfold. "One . . . two . . . three!"
Luke took the scarf away and Noah blinked until his eyes adjusted to where they were. He looked out over a grassy park filled with people sitting on blankets and chairs. He smiled widely when he saw a large screen set up near a building and a wall of trees. Noah turned to Luke.
"We're at the Parc de la Villette," Luke said. "They're showing Casablanca."
Noah laughed and held onto Luke's arms. "It's my—"
"Favorite movie," Luke finished. "I know."
"I didn't think you remembered."
Luke chuckled and shook his head at such a ridiculous thought. "Of course I remember. But don't thank me for the movie, that was coincidence, I promise."
"Thank you," Noah said. He leaned in and kissed Luke, wrapping his arms around his waist to pull him in closer. They parted lips and Noah touched his forehead to Luke's.
"So where should we sit?" Luke asked, looking up at Noah.
His companion looked at the ground and then at the large white screen where all the couples were seated in front of. "This is as good a place as any," Noah said.
They sat down in the place they were standing and soon the movie started. Luke, who had never seen the movie before (much to Noah's surprise), marveled at Ingrid Bergman's beauty, sighed when Sam played "As Time Goes By" on the piano, cheered when Humphrey Bogart shot the Nazi, Strasser, and the airport, and when Bogey told Ingrid that they'd always have Paris, Luke turned to Noah and kissed him tenderly on the mouth, making a memory of his own with the sounds of the movie in the background and the smell of Noah's shampoo lingering in the air.
0000000
When they arrived at the hotel a little after ten, Noah stopped on the corner of his block and held Luke's hands. "This was a great day," he said. "Thank you so much for everything."
"Sure thing," Luke said. He put his arms around Noah's neck and leaned in closer. "And if you'd like to repay me, you can take me out to dinner tomorrow."
Noah smiled, then subsequently frowned when he remembered something. "Shoot, I can't," he said.
"Why not?" Luke asked.
"I have to go to this black-tie thing with my father tomorrow night," Noah said, rolling his eyes. "I don't know if I'll be able to see you."
Luke faked a pout and looked at the sidewalk. "You couldn't sneak out a little early?" He looked up at Noah and inched his face closer.
"Um . . . maybe," Noah said, grinning.
"Hmm, maybe's close," Luke said, getting closer to Noah's lips.
"I'll see if I can get away."
"Getting warmer," Luke said, breathing on Noah's lips and stopping just short of his mouth.
"I'll call you when I get out," Noah said softly.
Luke planted his lips on Noah's and gave him a kiss. He pulled away and smiled. "Much better," he said. He kissed Noah again and parted just as he trailed his tongue along Noah's bottom lip.
"Have a good night," Luke said, walking away.
Noah held out his arms. "That's it?" he said with a wide smile. "After all of that?"
No sooner had Noah spoke than Luke turned and jumped into his arms, kissing him passionately on the mouth and pushing him against the wall of the building. Luke ran his fingers through Noah's hair, his tongue massaging Noah's, his teeth climbing, a low moan escaping his throat until . . .
Luke slowly pulled away and rubbed the end of his nose against Noah's. "Here's looking at you, kid," he said, touching his thumb to Noah's chin.
Noah smiled and tried to lean in for another kiss, but Luke pulled away from his arms and began walking down the street.
"Goodnight," Noah called after him, his voice barely a whisper.
To be continued
