Chapter 4: Leaving Paris
When I finished putting all of the luggage together I called the airport to book a flight out to L.A. I tried twice but I kept on hanging up the phone because I was crying. The third time I finally was able to call. "Salute, I am wondering if you have any flights open to fly out to L.A. I need the nearest-" I hung up, Paul was back. The first thing he did was stare at the luggage, and then our eyes locked. We stared at each other for about five minutes without saying a word. He was stoned, and he smelt of beer. When my face turned away I went out on the balcony to smoke a cigarette. As I inhaled the smoke it took over my body, it felt warm and nice; it took all the stress and pain away. When I let it out all the ashes were spread around the whole balcony. I walked back into the room. Paul was spying on me. I walked towards him, I fooled him by making him think I was about to touch him, he was about to take my hand, but I turned it away, acting as though I was really just getting my luggage. When I walked towards the door to leave I turned my head around, he was still just staring, "Goodbye Paul" was all I could say. I had a hat on and sunglasses, my hair was pulled up. As I headed towards the elevator my round suitcase opened, all of my artwork came dashing out, and it spread all over the place. As I put my stuff back into the suitcase the elevator came, "Hold the elevator!" I shouted, when I got up I turned around; some strange man was starring at me with passion in his eyes. I ran to the elevator and thanked the women who held it.
When I got outside it started to rain. I tried to call three cabs, they just passed my way. I had no where to go, I turned my face looking back at the hotel, I was trying to see if Paul ran after me, if he was going to beg me not to leave. To my surprise I saw the man who was staring at me in the hall at the hotel. "Ms. How would you like some company tonight? I am in a suite, I have lots of food, a bottle of champagne, a ton of dessert, and I want someone to share it with." He was Irish, and his eyes were telling me he wanted something more than someone to share his food with. I was so mad at Paul and I wanted to be with someone else to get him back, I also didn't have anywhere to go. "If I come with you I think we won't be eating anything till tomorrow afternoon" I said to him. I took his hand and we walked back inside the hotel. He made out with me in the elevator and pulled up my skirt, "my, my you naughty boy!" He laughed. When we got to the hall my blouse was already ripped open. When we got to the suite there wasn't food to be found. "Where's all the food?" I laughed, "Come over here, come over here!" I screamed. I ripped his shirt off with my mouth. When we made love he was horrible in bed, I think the reason I couldn't enjoy it was Paul, I couldn't stop thinking of him, we had a small fight but he told me he would be happier if I left, so why did I feel so bad?
In the morning I ordered room service, the man was sleeping; I didn't even know his name. I had a croissant and some tea. When I was done I laid on the bed next to the man, I kissed him softly on the cheek, I took my bags, I had on the same hat and sunglasses. I looked at him "Goodbye Irish boy. It was fun wasn't it?" He had nothing on but a sheet covering his lower body, he turned from his right side to his left. When I walked out of the door I heard another door open, the next door, I didn't realize I was staying right next door! Paul came out and stared at me with his serious eyes. "Astrid?" he said in shock, "what were you doing next door?" "Why didn't you come after me? Why goddamn it? If you loved me, why didn't you run after me and kiss me, pull me in your arms and say 'I'm sorry'? Fuck you Paul! Its over!" I was too upset to explain. My stomach felt twisted, I was tired, and light headed. "You are a cheap whore! Fuck you, you stupid slut! The minute you leave me you sleep with someone else? Drop dead!" "You want to know something Paul? That man in there made better love to me than you ever could!" I saw the staircase headed to the lobby down the hall, I ran towards it. I ran down the stairs so fast that I tripped down the last three steps. I was sobbing, everyone saw me. Some women came over to me to help me up "Get the fuck away!" I screamed, "Get away!"
When I ran outside I got a cab. We were headed to Charles DeGaulle airport. When we got there I went to five different people asking them where you purchase air tickets, none of them even answered me. I felt trapped and I started to cry again. I went in the bathroom and rubbed water on my eyes, which were red. When I stopped I went up to someone at air Canada. "Excuse me do you know where to purchase tickets to America?" She said nothing. "God nobody knows where anything fucking is!" As I turned away she said "Maybe if you smiled and said 'bonjour' 'good day', then maybe I would have helped you!" "FUCK YOU! Go to hell you stupid bitch!" I screamed. Everyone stared; she looked at me in shock.
An hour later I found the place to purchase tickets to America on American Airlines. I went up to the counter "Excuse me Mille. I need tickets for the next flight to Los Angeles" "Ok, that would be tonight at ten thirty" she said in a French accent. "How much?" "Three hundred euros." which was six hundred fifty dollars American money. "Fine." I showed her my passport, I gave her the money and I went to the terminal. When I got to the terminal I couldn't believe that I was actually going home.