Illuminated (16 page)

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Authors: Erica Orloff

BOOK: Illuminated
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“Um . . . not if you ended up with your private parts cut off, August. I mean, that is not a happy ending.”
“What if we could never—I mean not right now—but I’m talking
never
do it? Not ever? Could you still care about me?”
“Of course. There’s more to you than that. Your mind, your personality.”
“Exactly. Maybe Astrolabe was looking for his intellectual soul mate, as well as his physical soul mate. His parents had that physical passion, but then when that wasn’t possible, they had this elevated intellectual passion.”
I rolled back on my bed. “I wish I could just ask them. You know?”
“Instead, we have the book.”
“We hope we have the book. We have to prove we have the book, that it was his.”
“Will you kiss me on top of the Eiffel Tower?”
“Yes. Will you meet me at their tomb?”
“Yes, Calliope. Will you talk to me until I fall asleep?”
“Sure.”
So we whispered about everything and nothing until long after I heard Harry and Gabe go to bed. I was certain August was my A.
15
 
Even when you are not here, I see your face as if in every passerby.
—A.
 
 
W
e made plans to leave for Paris together in secret. Professor Sokolov and August contacted medieval scholars and monks in real monasteries, chasing leads long distance as to the origins of the Book of Hours. Uncle Harry used science and technology to analyze the vellum it was written on in an attempt to perfectly date the book. He also heard from a friend of his in London that the Tome Raider had supposedly been spotted in France but eluded the authorities once again.
Knowing that news of the Tome Raider would make everyone even more overprotective, we hid our plans. August’s dad thought only August was going. And neither Harry nor Professor Sokolov had any idea of my plans. August and I decided I would phone Harry five minutes before I boarded and beg for him to understand.
For a week, I packed and unpacked in secret, wanting my wardrobe just right. I spent every waking minute with August, and every second we were apart, I felt sick to my stomach. I lost eight pounds just from not sleeping and living on coffee and feeling so excited that I couldn’t eat. That and the ragged edges of guilt tugging at me.
The night before we were supposed to leave, Uncle Harry came into my room.
“I’m worried about you, Calliope.”
“Why?”
“You look tired.”
“I am.”
“Love is supposed to be good for you.”
“It is.”
“I know. You can’t sleep. You can’t eat. You can’t think. You can’t do anything but think about August. I know. I’ve been there.”
“With Gabe?”
“Oh, a little with him. But we were older when we met. We had jobs. We had respectable lives.” He laughed. “The craziest thing I did was spend a small fortune on those tickets to his show over and over and over and over again.”
“Yeah. You were just as bad.”
“Maybe. But we still ate and slept. No, I was insane in a younger love affair. In college. Then, I think I went months without sleeping. I was just so in love it was a sickness.”
“Sleep is overrated.”
“Look, I think young love is great. But summer will be over before you know it. I don’t want you to fall apart when you have to go back to Boston. I know if you guys are meant to be, you’ll work out the long-distance thing, and vacations, and everything. But an all-consuming passion isn’t always healthy. I don’t want you to get hurt. Okay?”
“You were the matchmaker,” I said.
“I know, I know. I thought ‘summer love.’ I didn’t think ‘this is it’ kind of love. Anyway, just . . . you know, humor your overprotective uncle just a tiny bit, okay?”
“Sure. Promise.” And as soon as I said “promise,” I regretted lying.
He looked at me skeptically and left my room. I knew I wouldn’t do what he said. I felt like Heloise. How could anyone understand how I felt? Though August and I hadn’t had sex, I knew I felt something for him passionately from deep inside.
I couldn’t wait to go to Paris with him. He was the one.
 
August had paid for our tickets on a Sokolov and Sons credit card. I had eight hundred bucks cash, my spending money for the
entire
summer, and I took money from my savings account. I left Harry’s while he was at work and Gabe was at the theater. August and I met at Penn Station and took the train to JFK airport.
It took us over an hour to get through security, but finally, we were at our gate. I looked at August. “Now or never.”
I dialed Uncle Harry. I swallowed. My stomach twisted.
“Hello, Calliope.”
“Harry . . . are you sitting down?”
“Oh, God . . . don’t tell me you’re pregnant!”
I hadn’t thought that compared to
that
news, Paris might seem tame!
“Actually, no. I’m on my way to Paris.”
“WHAT?” I held the phone away from my ear slightly.
“We want to go to the tomb. We want to meet Etienne.”
“I need a cocktail. You’re lying. You cannot be doing this, Calliope.”
“You were the one who sent us chasing the palimpsest. August and I are just finishing what we started.”
“This is insane! Callie! Come back home right now. Where are you? I can hear flight announcements. I’m telling you—I’m
ordering
you.”
“I’m not coming home, Harry. I’ll be home in five days.”
“The Tome Raider has been spotted by Interpol in Paris. Calliope, you need to come home.”
“I’m not.”
“This is . . . not acceptable. Your father . . . When your father finds out, he’s going to kill me. Then you. He’ll never let you stay with me again—Callie, how could you? This is the most selfish thing you have ever done.”
“Uncle Harry . . .” I didn’t know what else to say. He was right—I knew it. But I couldn’t give in now. “Please, don’t be mad.”
“Calliope, for years, I have bragged to every person I know that my niece is level-headed, brilliant, a straight-A student, never gives me an ounce of trouble. Doesn’t drink. Doesn’t get into trouble. Friends told me
horror
stories of their teenagers. And I—
smugly
—said, ‘Not me.’ This is the most teenagery, impetuous,
stupid
thing you have ever done.”
“Please,” I was practically begging him. “Please try to understand.”
August was squeezing my hand and trying to listen near my ear.
“Understand what?”
“Harry . . . Astrolabe’s parents were like mine.” Harry was quiet. So I kept talking. “It’s important to me to trace the book’s origins. I was bitten by the history bug. You said so yourself. But it’s more than that now. I have to do this for me. To prove something about myself.”
There was a long silence.
“Harry?”
His voice was quiet. “How am I going to explain this to your dad?”
“I’ll call him; you had nothing to do with this.”
“No, I will. This is my fault. I filled your head with all this stuff. Thank goodness he has no idea what’s at stake here. I’ll book a flight to Paris and meet you two there. You can fill me in when I get there.”
“Oh, Harry, thank you! Do you hate me?”
“I can’t hate you, Calliope. But this, honest to God, would be something my sister would do. Though she’d probably get a tattoo first. You didn’t get a tattoo, did you?”
“No.” I laughed.
“I’ll give you my travel arrangements as soon as I have them. Call me when you get there. And call me every step of the way. And be careful. Be very careful.”
 
After we took off, August and I lifted the armrest between us, took one of the airline blankets, and I rested my head on his shoulder and fell asleep. All the nervous energy, the stress, the anxiety I felt when I was away from him evaporated. A calm settled through me, and I slept peacefully for hours.
When I woke up, August was still sleeping. I wriggled from his shoulder and maneuvered until his head rested on my lap and I could watch him sleep. His face was like a statue’s, perfectly carved and beautiful, right to the way his upper lip rose like a cupid’s bow. I watched dreams flit across his face as his eyes moved beneath their lids. He half smiled in his sleep.
I reached down and touched his cheek, then moved my hand to his hair. I wrapped strands around my fingers and thought my heart would just explode.
August woke up a short time later. I glanced across the aisle. Looking out the window, dawn was skittering across the sky in pinks and lavender. The flight attendants pushed a cart with coffee and pastries, and I ate and drank some coffee, then went to wash up and brush my teeth in the tiny airline bathroom.
I returned to my seat and waited for the plane to touch down in Paris. The City of Light.
We disembarked; my passport was stamped.
Bonjour!
We were that much closer to Heloise and Abelard and their final resting place.
 
We checked into our hotel. August had booked us into a quaint boutique hotel. Our room had two double beds, covered in old-fashioned-looking quilts, and wooden floors that creaked when we walked.
A small antique desk stood on one wall, facing a window. I crossed to it, and heavy linen paper stationery sat in a neat leather portfolio, as if waiting for me to write a letter. I stared out my window. If I stood on tiptoes, I could glimpse the Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
I showered and changed into the little black Barney’s dress that Uncle Harry had bought for me. After pulling my hair into a soft ponytail, and putting on some lip gloss, I stepped out. August smiled. “The dress I first saw you in.”
I nodded.
First
saw me in. That felt like something you would say after you were together a long time.
First
wasn’t that long ago. But it felt like forever.
“It’s my favorite. Come on, Etienne will be waiting.”

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