Chasing Paris Read online

  Once his breathing had settled into a familiar pattern, she slid out of bed and wrapped a robe around her shoulders. Carefully, quietly, she slipped out of the hotel room and tiptoed to the lobby.

  “May I use your phone?” she asked the receptionist. She didn’t bother to speak in French. This hotel had nothing but American patrons, and all employees spoke English. John had insisted that they stay somewhere that English was spoken—so that his wife was not the only one who understood conversations around them.

  The receptionist nodded and presented her with a phone. Then she stepped away.

  When the operator came to the line, Lizzie asked to place a collect call. A few moments later, Lizzie had given the operator the information needed, and she heard the connection going through.

  “Lizzie, what’s going on?” Eva said through the phone.

  “Eva, he’s here. Billy is here. I saw him today—twice. First on the Metro as John and I were going to Montmartre and then at a restaurant in the Latin Quarter. He was following me.”

  “Lizzie, stop. He’s not there.”

  “Yes he is. I already told you. I saw him twice.”

  Eva sighed. “Did you talk to him?”

  “No.”

  “How long was he in your sight? Did you make eye contact?”

  “I only saw him for a second each time. There were big crowds, and he got away before I could make eye contact.”

  “Liz, you did not see him. It was someone else.”

  Lizzie’s voice was fringed with despair. “Why don’t you believe me? I did see him. He’s following me.”

  “Honey, you just thought you saw him. Billy’s not in Paris anymore. He’s in California. Shortly after you announced your engagement, I found out that he was moving to Los Angeles.”

  Lizzie didn’t answer right away. She covered her forehead with her hand and closed her eyes. “My God. Am I going crazy? Am I hallucinating?”

  “All those crazy artists in Paris look the same. It would be an easy mistake.”

  “But first I thought I saw him at the wedding and now here. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m losing my mind.”

  Eva was silent. Softly, she said, “He’s just gotten under your skin. He’s the kind of person who does that. You have to put him out of your mind.”

  Lizzie nodded as though her sister could see through the phone. “I don’t know why this is so hard.”

  “Well, first of all, because you took your honeymoon in Paris. What were you thinking to—”

  “Wait a second. John’s never been—”

  “And second of all, because Billy is an awful person.”

  Lizzie closed her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Put him out of your mind. Enjoy your vacation. And get some sleep. It’s getting late there.”

  Lizzie hung up the phone and handed it to the receptionist. Then she crept back upstairs to their hotel room. As she slid back into bed, John raised his head from the pillow and squinted toward her.

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Bathroom,” she answered. “It was occupied when I got there. I had to wait.”

  John dropped his head back to the pillow. “I’ll never understand why there are communal bathrooms in European hotels.”

  “Mmm.” Lizzie turned over so that her back was to her husband.

  Within seconds, John was snoring. Lizzie began drifting off moments later, the image of Billy on the subway floating through her head. The further she drifted, the stronger the image became—until it finally came to life and she saw Billy walking toward her. He pushed through the crowd of travelers to where Lizzie sat next to John.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, looking up at him. “Eva said you moved to California.”

  Billy sat down on the other side of her. She glanced at John who didn’t seem to notice the visitor. He stared off into the crowd as though the passengers swaying with the movement of the Metro were the most fascinating sight in Paris.

  “To find out why you married this man.” Billy nodded in John’s direction. “I can’t understand what you see in him.”

  John continued to stare into the crowd. Lizzie wondered if he realized Billy was there—he seemed not to notice at all.

  “John is not you. That is what I see in him. He is everything you are not.”

  Billy smirked. “So I’m the man against whom you measure all others? I’m flattered.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “My, Lizzie. He looks like a lot of fun. Is he alive?” Billy stood and stepped in front of John, who continued to stare as though he could see through Billy. “Sir, are you alive? Are you asleep with your eyes open?” John made no movement or sound. He continued to stare. Billy moved away and sat back down next to Lizzie. “He’s practically non-existent. Is that what you like about him?”

  Lizzie could not bring her eyes to meet Billy’s. “Non-existent is a bit dramatic. He is calm, he is smart, he is kind, he is introspective, and he is patient. He does not challenge me. He will not hurt me.”

  “But is there anything to him?”

  “I just told you. He is everything you are not.”

  “He’s so empty.”

  Lizzie glanced at John before turning to Billy. “He’s not. He’s brilliant—and fascinating. He’s a wealth of knowledge—a lawyer, you know.”

  “Fascinating, yes. Obviously. I’m sure you have long talks into the night about court cases and the Constitution. Am I right?”

  “Billy, I’d like you to leave now. Please get off the Metro at the next stop.”

  He stood and looked down at her. “Why don’t you come with me? We both can go—now. John seems like he’s content here—he can stay. Let’s find parts of Paris that neither of us has before seen.”

  Lizzie hesitated. She entertained the idea for a split second—until she could see that Billy recognized she was entertaining the idea. “No,” she blurted out, shaking her head. “No, I’m married. You must leave me alone.”

  Billy laughed, and she knew from his look that he had caught her—he had seen her doubt and insecurity. He had yet again gotten under her skin.

  Anger crossed her face. “Leave,” she seethed. “Leave now.”

  Billy shook his head and laughed again. “You married a ghost. Enjoy.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  Lizzie awoke from the dream, gasping. She had to get out of Paris—right away. “John,” she breathed, shaking her husband’s shoulder. “Let’s go to Nice tomorrow. I’m tired of it here. Can we go? First thing in the morning?”

  “Hmm,” he responded. “Long train ride? I can finish my book on Eve then. Sounds good. First thing in the morning.”

  ***

  Amy looked at Will.

  “She’s falling apart.”

  Will nodded. He could think of nothing positive to say.

  THIRTY

  E

  va waited for John and Lizzie at the baggage claim. She did not know what to expect upon seeing her sister and brother-in-law. Would they be tired from the long plane ride? Would they be relaxed and satisfied with their honeymoon? Would they be excited to share stories about the places they saw? Eva felt that any one of those scenarios would be good. She prayed that they did not exit the plane with divorce on their lips.

  When they came into sight, Lizzie was leading John by the hand, pulling him along the walkway and into the open air of the baggage claim. Her dark hair and tan skin was a stark contrast to the paleness of the man following her, but their matching smiles let loose the floodgates of relief in Eva’s mind.

  Lizzie dropped John’s hand when they were a couple yards from Eva and trotted the rest of the way to her sister. She threw her arms around Eva’s neck and squeezed.

  “I’m so glad to be back,” she breathed into Eva’s hair.

  “Did you have a good time?” Eva asked, pulling away and searching her sister’s eyes.

  Lizzie nodded, smiling. “Paris was a disaster, as you know.” She turned and looked at
John who was approaching but still out of earshot. “But Nice was wonderful. I think John and I will be okay.” She nodded again, still smiling.

  Eva returned the smile and then looked toward her new brother-in-law. “Hi, John. It’s good to see you again. Did you have as much fun as your bride?”

  “I did,” he said, joining his wife and putting his arm around her shoulders. “It was wonderful having Lizzie show me around France. She knows so much of the country.”

  Lizzie leaned into her husband for a moment before saying, “Our baggage should be coming soon. I’m going to run to the restroom while we wait.” She pulled away from John and continued, “Don’t you two move. I’ll be right back.”

  John and Eva watched Lizzie weave through the crowd. As Lizzie disappeared, she seemed to take with her the little bit of personality that John had displayed moments ago. Without her, a heavy awkwardness settled in the air between them. It grew heavier and heavier, and for one of the first times in her life, Eva didn’t feel at ease.

  “So it really was a lot of fun?” she asked. “What did you and Lizzie do? What did you see?”

  John continued to gaze in Lizzie’s direction. “Paris. Nice. And of course the little villages along the way. Although we didn’t really see them. We just passed them on the train. Still, they were interesting to see.”

  Eva nodded. “I’m very glad. Planning a wedding can be quite stressful, and I’m sure you could see that Lizzie needed a vacation.”

  Lizzie had been lost in a mob of people for a couple moments now, but John continued to stare after her as though he knew exactly where she was. Eva wondered if he could in fact see her—perhaps from his vantage point. After a few more awkward seconds passed, John spoke.

  “Lizzie clearly felt stress before our wedding, but I don’t think it had much to do with the planning of it. That was primarily taken care of by someone else, but I appreciate that you’re trying to blame her stress on that. Lizzie has told me that you’re someone to be completely honest with, and I believe she’s right. You pull honesty out of people, so I know that you’re already aware that Lizzie and I are not well-suited for each other.”

  Eva’s initial impulse was to protest, but he had preempted the protest by pointing out her penchant for honesty. He too, obviously, appreciated honesty.

  “I would not have thought that you would be a viable suitor for Lizzie—or that you would ever have proposed marriage to a girl like her. But I was clearly wrong. You must be well-suited in ways that I don’t see. And did you not have a wonderful honeymoon? Something must have gone right.”

  “The relationship is mutually beneficial, which is the primary need in all relationships. We both need companionship. I need someone to cook and occasionally pull me away from my work. And she needed someone to save her. I’m not sure what she needed saving from, but I know it was something poisonous. On that level, it works.”

  Eva stifled a shudder. “I don’t understand. You’ve reduced your marriage to some sort of anthropological study in human needs. And why are you explaining this to your wife’s sister?”

  John looked toward Eva. “I knew that I would need to have this discussion with you sooner or later, and the opportunity presented itself now. As I said before, you pull honesty out of people. That’s one reason. The other is that you have been your sister’s keeper for many, many years. Now that job has gone to me, and you should know that she is in good hands. I will keep her well. Beyond the highs and lows of love and romance, there is logic and sturdiness in our relationship. As long as she desires to be with me, I will offer her protection from whatever has plagued her.”

  Eva tried to swallow a sour taste in her mouth. “I appreciate your perspective on marriage, but you would do well to forget about needs and mutually-beneficial relationships. I suggest you have fun with her and take the chore out of it. If you don’t, it may not last long. She will not like being saved or protected if you’re not also interesting.”

  John looked toward the crowd. “She’s on her way back,” he said upon spotting Lizzie in the crowd again. “I believe we will face that as it comes.”

  ***

  Will leaned back against the couch. He stared across the room, squinting. “I don’t like him.” He shook his head. “I know Billy is awful—crazy, even—but this John guy seems worse to me. He’s so, I don’t know, cold.”

  Amy stared at the pages before her. Slowly, she said, “He’s my grandfather.”

  Will turned his eyes toward her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your family. I—”

  “No, no. Don’t apologize. I don’t like him, either.” She kept her eyes on the papers. “He’s soulless.” She ran her fingers along the bottom edge of the stack. “I mean, Lizzie used to be so soulful. He’s the opposite of that. And,” she paused, “he’s my mom’s father.”

  “I keep forgetting that these people aren’t characters in a story.”

  Amy nodded. “Me too.”

  ***

  Lizzie wandered through the house, looking at the walls, the furniture, the carpet. None of it felt familiar. Her parents had been thrilled that she was marrying an attorney—so thrilled that they bought the pair a house and had it decorated while they were on their honeymoon. John enjoyed this surprise, and for once his mild manner was overcome with joy that he overtly expressed. Lizzie, however, felt like she had changed places with him. The house barely interested her. If anything, she was disappointed. This was not her house or her decorations. It was everything that she had wished to escape when running away to Los Angeles, including her parent’s grasp.

  It was two in the afternoon. John would be gone for at least another three hours, and Lizzie’s boredom was edging toward overwhelming heights. Once John was home, it would subside, she knew, but not enough. It never did. With him there, she had someone to talk to. Unfortunately for her, he did not always talk back. He often filled his end of the conversations with hmm and oh. It was not much for Lizzie to feed from.

  She continued to move through the house, one room at a time, looking for something to hold her interest. And one room at a time, she felt her boredom turn more and more into frustration, then more and more into anxiety. I’m going crazy in here, she thought. This place is like a prison, just like Mom and Dad’s house. They’ve created my very own prison now that I no longer reside in theirs.

  Arriving at her room, she fell to her knees and crawled to the space beneath her bed. There, behind three shoeboxes was a fourth box. She pulled it out and poured its contents onto the carpet. Letters fell all around her.

  Lizzie stared at the mess now surrounding her. She felt calmer knowing these letters once kept her spirit alive. Perhaps if she read them often enough, they would continue to do so. She picked up one and unfolded it, slowly, gingerly, as though the paper were as frail as her sanity.

  January 18, 1956

  Elizabeth,

  I will be in Paris until something calls me away. Right now, I’m content with my surroundings, although as the weather continues to cool, I find myself wishing for the days of summer. Tourism slows this time of year. Fewer visitors mean less money in hand. The artist stations thin out as the air begins to bite, and those of us who stay also thin down without the extra money for lunch or breakfast. But we stay because we know that all will improve on the other side of May. The tourists will appear, money will feed us, and our Lizzies might, if we are lucky, return.

  Billy

  “Elizabeth?”

  Lizzie threw the letter to the floor—as though holding it would implicate her in some crime—and whirled around. She saw John and felt a guilty lightheadedness enveloping her.

  “John, hello. I’m surprised that you’re home already. Is it past five?” She began pulling the letters toward herself, scooping them up and piling them back into the shoebox. “I didn’t realize.”

  John walked into the room. He sat down on the floor a few feet from where his wife feverishly tried to hide the evidence of her crime.

/>   “It’s not yet five. I came home early. Work was slow.”

  “I’m glad that you’re here,” she lied, her face turning warm.

  “What are you doing?” John asked.

  “I’m—I’m just looking through some things. Nothing really. Just,” she shook her head at the shoebox as she placed a lid on it, “nothing.”

  “Lizzie,” John said. “Are those the reason you married me?” He nodded toward the shoebox.

  She sat with the box in her lap, her eyes glued to it. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

  John nodded as though he expected that answer. “I know that you were running from something. I didn’t know what, but I still knew you were running. You don’t have to tell me what from.”

  She set the box next to her and brought her eyes to John’s. She waited for him to continue.

  “We’ve been married for nearly a month now,” he said. “Are you happy? Was getting married the right decision?”

  Lizzie pursed her lips, unsure of the right answer. “We have a very nice life, John. We have a beautiful home, and you’re very kind to me.”

  “We have a home that is barely lived in, and kindness can only get us so far.”

  Lizzie’s eyes again fell to the floor. “We’ve never discussed this. You’ve never spoken so frankly with me.”

  John nodded. “I do love you, Lizzie. I do want you to be happy. I know that I’m often absorbed by books, and they often seem to take priority over you. I don’t mean for that to happen, and I’m not entirely unaware that I may have been more convenient for you than whatever alternative was out there. Despite being so absorbed by books, I know this about you.” He paused for a moment before continuing, hesitating. “Are you happy with your choice to marry me?”