Well, we're off to Paris!
Thanks for reading - I especially love hearing your thoughts.
A big, big thanks to pre-reader extraordinaire, Miss Construed.
Enjoy!
Pfloogs
My phone was ringing when I unlocked the door to my office the next morning. I dove across the front of my desk to pick it up before it went to voicemail, spilling the contents of my pencil holder in the process.
"Good morning," chirped the perky voice I'd know anywhere.
"Hello, Claudine," I lilted back in a singsong voice. I should have known she would call me first thing this morning.
"Congratulations on the big party last night. Sounds like it was quite the bash."
I carefully lifted the spiral cord so I could sit at my desk without knocking anything else over. "Thank goodness it was a success – I would have been toast around here if not."
She hissed. "Don't be so dramatic. Of course you wouldn't have been toast."
"Well, maybe not toast, but a lot was riding on that party." I turned on the computer and waited for it to boot up.
"Hmmmm. Well, it also seems that things are progressing nicely with Eric."
"I take it you've already seen The Morning After?"
"Mmm-hmm." I could hear the faint click of her mouse faint over the line. "You and Eric are prominently featured. Right next to a photo of a woman wearing what appears to be a Hefty bag. Did she lose a bet or something?"
A burst of laughter escaped my mouth. I pulled the site up on my computer, and craned forward to scrutinize the photo. It was subtle, but there would be no question to anybody who saw it that we were together. I zoomed in on our faces and smiled. We both looked happy.
"So? Things with Eric?"
"We're good. Working through some obstacles, but good."
"Oh, it makes me so happy to hear that. Just remember that no relationship is without its obstacles. I'd be worried if you didn't have any."
"Humph." I suppose that made sense.
"What about that job in Philadelphia?"
I paused for a moment. "It's still out there."
"What does Eric say?"
"Uh, we haven't really talked about it."
"I know I said to not worry about it a few weeks ago, but now might be the time to face this head on."
My cheeks puffed out with my released breath. "Yep. I know."
"You'll have plenty of opportunity when you're in Paris to bring it up."
I groaned.
"You'll figure it out. Have a great time and call me when you're back."
"I will. Say hi to Jonathan and everybody in the office."
I downloaded the photo of Eric and me and sent it to my blackberry, then started in on the day's business.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
The next two days zoomed past. I was quite busy between wrapping things up from the two events of the week and preparing to be out of the office for a few days. If there was gossip floating around about me and Eric, I was blessedly unaware.
Two ladies I didn't know from the legal department gave me the thumbs up in the cafeteria, and Holly tried her unsubtle best to get me to tell her more about my relationship with Eric, but these were things I could easily manage. Frankly, I was more worried about what to pack for the trip.
We left the museum a little early on the day of our flight, and to Eric's great relief, got to the airport in plenty of time. The flight was uneventful, and aside from being a little bleary eyed upon arrival at Charles de Gaulle, we were ready to dive into the city.
A taxi sped us into the city. I watched intently out the window, recognizing from previous visits the progression of the landscape, from humble structures that steadily gave way to elegant buildings with ornate iron scrollwork lining the urbane streets that led us to the heart of the Paris. Our charming hotel was tucked away in a quiet section of St-Germaine-des-Prés on a cobblestone street only a couple of blocks from the Seine. The location was just a hop, skip and a jump from the Louvre where the majority of Eric's meetings would be, but on the Left Bank, which I preferred.
Eric had managed to book one of the few suites in the hotel. A suite had seemed over-the-top to me until I saw our room. It was a comfortable and gracious space, but I couldn't imagine Eric's large frame negotiating anything smaller. The cozy bedroom had walls covered in a crisp bright navy and white Provençal fabric, and didn't allow for much floor space beyond the bed that dominated the room. A sitting room off the bedroom provided the extra breathing room we would need.
I eyed the bed longingly thinking how nice a nap would be, especially with Eric by my side, but we had planned to beat the time change by forcing ourselves to stay awake through the day and turning in early after dinner. A quick shower to wash away the travel grime and a fresh outfit perked me up, and within half an hour we were off to a nearby café for lunch.
"Anywhere in particular you want to go this afternoon?" Eric asked over his croque-monsieur.
I shook my head. "I wouldn't mind just walking around. Maybe heading over to the Luxembourg Gardens unless there was something else you had in mind?" I reached across the table to swipe a couple of the perfectly golden, salty fries from his plate. My salad was delicious, but nothing could beat fries. "Oh, and pain au chocolate needs to somehow be involved."
"Sounds like a good non-plan."
"Then I was thinking I'd go to the Musée Picasso tomorrow morning while you're in meetings and meet you back at the hotel around noon. We could head out from there." I reached for another fry.
He watched me pilfer his fries with amusement. "I'll definitely be done for the day by then."
As excited as I was to see Paris again, I was enjoying the leisurely pace of lunch and the absence of an agenda. I'd been to Paris several times before, but always by myself for a couple of days here and there. My previous visits had involved a tight schedule and a checklist of places I needed to visit. In retrospect, those trips seemed more like a forced march than a relaxing holiday.
I was stuffed after my salad and most of Eric's fries, but after a few hours walking around, was ravenous and exhausted. We scrapped our dinner plans at an Île de la Cité restaurant, and opted for a neighborhood bistro.
An order of duck confit and two glasses of excellent Cabernet later, and Eric practically had to scrape me off my chair and drag me back to the hotel. I fell soundly asleep the moment my head hit the pillow, and slept solidly through the night until the travel alarm sounded the next morning.
We showered and dressed for the day, then headed down to the barrel vaulted breakfast room for the best café au lait and yogurt I had tasted in ages, before venturing our separate ways for the morning.
I was so happy to be back in Paris. It was a different world from New York City. Everything seemed to be orderly, polished, and elegant. In comparison to the sometimes raw and gritty city that was my beloved home, Paris seemed incredibly civilized. I soaked it in on the way to my destination.
I had visited the Musée Picasso before, and it never failed to suck me in. The special Picasso exhibits I had seen at various museums always paled in comparison to what I walked away with after a few hours here. For me, it wasn't seeing his masterpieces that struck me. Rather it was the extraordinary experience of witnessing his body of work over a lifetime.
The collection was a massive assemblage of sketches, cardboard models, seemingly insignificant doodles, and of course the sculptures and paintings that the world knows.
Behind the familiar masterpieces lay years of thought, experimentation, failures, and breakthroughs, that had ultimately led to the execution of his most renowned pieces of art. It was impossible to fully appreciate the masterpieces without the evidence of the years-long process behind each.
The visit left me contemplative, and reflecting on more than art.
By the time I returned to the hotel, Eric was already back from his meeting, sprawled out on the sofa and absorbed in a magazine. I bent over to give him a kiss, and he tugged my arm so I collapsed on top of him.
"Well, hello there," I laughed, sinking into his body.
"How was the museum?" His fingers ran through the waves of my hair idly, while the other hand ran the distance of my spine.
I sighed happily. "So interesting. I loved it." I would tell him about it later, but wanted to first hear about his morning. "What about your meetings?"
"It's always good to speak with my peers." He smiled and I could tell there was something more.
I raised my eyebrows to prompt him.
"A few museum directors were there too, including the director of the Philadelphia Museum of Art."
My stomach knotted a little bit at the news. "Scouting talent, I presume?" I joked, and tried to take comfort in the idea that the meeting was full of possible candidates for the open position in Philadelphia.
He laughed back, "Something like that, I suppose." His smile lessened a bit and I knew that wasn't the end of his news. "The president of the museum is in town too. They want to have dinner with us tonight."
My eyes widened, and I pushed back so I could see Eric's face better. "Us?"
He shrugged. "They know I'm here with you, so they invited me and my significant other."
"Oh." Conflicting emotions collided in my chest and stuck in my throat.
A ripple of concern crossed Eric's face at my reaction. "Is that okay?"
I gingerly extracted myself from the sofa and forced a smile. "Of course. That's so nice of them to include me." I crossed the room to look out the window over the rooftops of the adjacent buildings to buy some time and space for my racing mind.
As much as I would love to perhaps theoretically live in blissful ignorance, there was nothing enjoyable or peaceful about my lack of knowledge on Eric's thoughts regarding the position. The chairmanship in Philadelphia was the 800 pound gorilla in the room, and I wanted it gone.
Of course we needed to discuss it. We probably should have discussed it weeks ago, but any conversation about this job would undoubtedly force issues about us, about our future. I doubted Eric wanted to force this talk either; otherwise he would have spoken about it more freely.
I knew my commitment level to this relationship, and I hoped I knew Eric's, but at this point it was really just supposition. I had no doubt that Eric cared for me, but were his feelings for me significant enough to trump an important career opportunity like this? I was afraid of the answer.
Twice I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped myself before uttering a syllable. I looked out the window and took several deep breaths to calm myself and gather the nerve to ask Eric what I needed to know. I turned away from the window to perch on the tufted arm of the chair facing Eric and screwed up my courage.
"Eric?" I hated how shaky my voice sounded. He looked up from the magazine, tossed it on the side table and sat up to give me his full attention. I bit my lip nervously and continued. "What do you think you'll do if you're offered the position?
Eric ran a hand through his hair a couple of times then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. Tension was evident in the lines across his forehead. After a long, thoughtful moment he spoke.
"When I was offered the curator position at the Met I thought I would be there for the rest of my career. It's where I had always imagined I would want to work; it was the pinnacle. But not just as a curator…the ultimate prize would eventually be the chairmanship." His joined hands bounced, emphasizing each point.
"The work fascinates me…opportunities to research, write, present. The collection is one of the finest…and to be a part of the collective maintaining and preserving the art is a privilege."
He stood and began to pace. It felt almost as though I was hearing his thought process, teasing through the advantages of each option.
"But Philadelphia is an opportunity I'd never conceived. The vast majority of upper echelon art institutions already have established Greek and Roman Departments. For those that don't, they certainly don't have the resources to be creating one. Sure, collections were amassed 50 or 100 years ago, but not today. It's a dream I never had because it just wasn't something within the realm of possibility."
Eric's eyes were alive with excitement. The tenor of his voice changed when he spoke about the Philadelphia job. His passion made me smile and my palms sweat. I knew how this was going to play out and I was trying to keep my breathing steady. I looked him in the eye and nodded my comprehension.
"You want this." It was a simple statement of fact. He'd explained it all, but he just hadn't said the words.
A pained expression crossed his face. "I do."
I turned my head to the side, trying to control the threatening tears that brimmed in my eyes. I wouldn't stand in his way, assuming that I even could. I smiled despite the fact that I couldn't breathe; despite the fact that I could no longer feel my fingers; despite the fact that my chest felt like it was splitting in two.
The struggle to control my physiological responses was taking every ounce of energy I possessed. I continued nodding my head slowly in a bit of a daze. The burn of bile was creeping up the back of my throat.
I wanted to tell him I was proud of him, that I supported his decision. More than anything I wanted to tell him that I loved him, but it felt like that would be a cheap ploy to make him change his mind. I didn't want to change his mind if this was what he wanted. Instead I was mute, wearing a smile that had faded to nearly nothing.
I needed a moment alone to collect myself.
"I'll be right back," I mumbled. Eric grabbed my wrist as I tried to pass.
"Sookie." His voice was hoarse.
I didn't think I was capable of listening to him further without breaking down. I needed to be in a better place mentally so I could support his decision. I stammered a few unintelligible words and tried to pull my arm free but he gripped harder and spun me so I was facing him. Keeping my eyes on the floor, the tears began to crest and my throat ached.
I struggled to tame the contortions of my chest and smooth out my chin which I knew was quivering. He pulled me to him and folded me in his arms. The contact with him made it impossible for me to hold it in any longer. Tears spilled freely and the sob that I'd been fighting so hard to suppress escaped. I remained stiff in the comfort of his arms. I had to in an attempt to keep myself from falling apart further.
"Sookie, look at me." His voice was quiet and strained with emotion. I pursed my lips and forced my eyes to meet his through watery vision. His eyes were rimmed with pink. "It's not the only thing I want."
I pressed my thumb and forefinger into my eyelids, shielding my face from him. I didn't want Eric to see hopefulness in my eyes and pity me if I was misunderstanding his words. Gently, but firmly, he pulled my hand away and tipped my chin up with his other hand. I fixed my vision on a corner of the ceiling.
"Sookie," he pleaded, "please look at me."
After a second I wiped away the tears that were still coming and acquiesced, taking in and releasing an unsteady breath. He fixed his eyes on my mine and gave me a small smile, then his eyes dropped to the floor before coming back to meet mine. Gone from his face was the confidence I was so accustomed to seeing. In its place was an expression that was foreign to me. His fingers interlaced with my left hand and he took a deep breath to speak. I braced myself.
"I….Sookie, I love you. I don't want this to be the end."
My eyes squeezed shut at his words and I buried my head in his chest, enveloping myself in the scent that was uniquely his. Eric's arms encircled me, holding me tightly to his chest. I remained pressed against him, the front of his shirt crumpled up in my fists until my tears were under control.
Still sniffling, I finally looked up at him. "I don't want this to be the end either."
Eric's eyebrows pulled together and he caught a tear that had reached my chin with the crook of his index finger. He searched my eyes and asked in a soft voice, "Would it have to be?"
I chewed on my lip and shook my head. "The last thing I want is to keep you from anything. But I'm rooted in New York, and a long distance relationship..."
He took me by the shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes. "First of all, I haven't been offered the position." I solemnly nodded my comprehension. "Secondly - and this is important – you need to know that you can keep me from this."
I shook my head. "I couldn't….I…I wouldn't dream of doing that. You have to pursue this opportunity if it comes your way." I sniffed again and wiped some of the dampness from my cheeks inelegantly with the palm of my hand. "If our positions were reversed I hope you would encourage me to do the same."
He swallowed visibly and looked at the floor, then back at me with an expression that bore a hint of sadness. I grasped both sides of his face.
"Eric," I said a little more forcefully than I'd intended. I met his eyes and gave him a small smile. In a much quieter tone I spoke the words that never were easy to utter for the first time. "I love you. I want to try to make this work."
Eric's face eased into a crooked smile. I was sure I looked a frightful mess, but he didn't seem to notice or care. He bent to reach my lips and I relaxed into the familiar taste of him. The previous tension melted away with each kiss until there was nothing that existed but the two of us.
We progressed unhurriedly to the bedroom, relishing every kiss of affirmation, and slowly undressed each other along the way. Each familiar touch was made new again in the lens of three small words. The streets of Paris would remain unexplored by us that afternoon.
