One Paris Summer (Blink) (40 page)

All I knew was that I’d lost Mathieu forever. My text said it all.

Au revoir, mon coeur.

Good-bye, my heart.

“
SOPHIE, YOU HAVE
to go to Paris,” Jenna said as we walked out to the student parking lot after school.

I pulled my sweater tighter around me. November in Charleston didn’t get that cold, but the wind had a bite today. “I’m having déjà vu.”

“You protested last time and you went anyway.”

“Last time I was forced. This time I have a choice.”

I unlocked my car and slid behind the wheel while Jenna got into the passenger seat. Her parents still hadn’t replaced her car after her accident. They only let her ride with me because I never drove over the speed limit and I’d never gotten a ticket.

I started the engine and put my hand on the gear shift, but Jenna put her hand over mine. “Sophie, stop.”

I sank back in the seat. “What?” Of course, I already knew what she was going to say.

“It was bad enough that you turned down the offer from that school in Paris. But you can’t shut your dad out again. And what about Eva?”

I shook my head. “Camille will be there. I can’t face her.”

“I thought she sent you a letter apologizing.”

Camille had been seeing a therapist since I’d left. Part of her therapy was to apologize to the people she had wronged. While her letter seemed genuine, I still had a hard time believing her. “She did, but you know she probably only did it because she had to.”

“So you’re never going to visit your dad again?”

I didn’t answer, watching the other students drive out of the parking lot.

“You ended up loving Paris.”

I did, but I wasn’t ready to go back. The thought of being there hurt too much. But I’d go back eventually. The fact that I’d rearranged my schedule to take French this year was proof of that.

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t turned it down?”

“The school?” I asked. I considered lying, but why hide it from her? Besides, she’d see right through it. “Yes. Every day.”

“Sophie!”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. Besides, I won the piano competition last month. Now I have a ten thousand dollar scholarship to apply to a more practical school.”

Jenna held her hands out palms up, then lifted and lowered them as if they were a scale. “State school. Parisian school. I wonder which I should choose.”

I shoved her arm. “Stop. I told you, it’s too late.”

“But what if it’s not?” When I didn’t say anything, she continued. “I love you, Sophie, and I will most likely die without you—like literally wither up and die—but you need to go to that school. Even Miss Lori says you’ve outgrown her.”

“It’s too late, Jen.”

She turned in her seat to face me. “What if it’s not? Email the dean or whoever, and ask them to reconsider.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“It can’t hurt to try. But you need to go see your dad. Regardless.”

“But Eric can’t go. He’s got some basketball thing.” He’d changed since we’d come home. We both had. We were closer than we’d ever been. He’d cut Dane off as a friend, and since Dane was more popular, my brother had suffered socially. I felt
partially responsible for that, but he assured me he wouldn’t change a thing.

Jenna was like a dog with a chew toy. She wasn’t about to let this go. “Then go by yourself.”

Last June, I would have freaked out at the thought. But I wasn’t that girl anymore. I gave Jenna a smile. “I think you’re right. About all of it.”

Three weeks later, my plane landed at Charles de Gaulle airport, and I couldn’t help comparing this flight to the one that had first brought me there. I was a different person.

Dad was busy with a project at work, and he’d offered to get a car to take me to the apartment. I only had a carry-on bag, so I told him I could take the Metro. Once I made it past security, I pulled out the phone Eva had given me and turned it on. It was set up for France, so it had been worthless in Charleston. But I’d promised Dad I would text him from the airport. I sent the text as soon as the screen lit up and then bought several Metro tickets with euros Eric had left over from the summer.

I stuffed my phone into my pocket and concentrated on the signs telling me where to go. A train was pulling up as I reached the platform. I rushed through the doors, rolling my suitcase behind me, and found a seat, proud of myself for making it this far. This was a far cry from the girl who’d gotten lost on the subway a few months ago.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see if Dad had texted back, and I gasped when the screen said I had twenty-seven messages.

How could Dad have sent me twenty-seven messages in less than five minutes?

I opened the app and saw the last message received was from Dad, telling me to take the Metro to
Cité
, next to
Sainte-Chapelle
, then text him when I got off so we could eat lunch together.

But the twenty-six previous messages were from Mathieu.

The last message was on top.

Au revoir, mon coeur.

It was dated at the end of September.

He’d told me good-bye.

With shaking fingers, I scrolled back to the first of the messages.

He’d sent it an hour after receiving my good-bye text.

Camille came to the school this morning and confessed. She convinced Dane to come to my apartment so I would find you two together. She hoped to destroy you and me and make you so upset you would miss your audition. She says she feels terrible for what she did, although I’m not sure I believe her. I think she’s more worried about Eva.

The next message was minutes later.

Sophie, I am so sorry. I hurt you so badly, and I’m sure you can never forgive me, but I’m begging you to forgive me anyway.

The next message was four hours later.

I know you are probably still on the plane, so that’s why you haven’t answered. Je t’aime, Sophie. I hate that you left this way.

I started crying.

The next message was two hours after the last.

Sophie, I don’t deserve you now. I know that. But I’m begging you to at least answer so maybe we can talk about it.

His next text was a couple of hours later.

Maman says you auditioned and that the judges were in awe of your performance. The night of your audition Maman asked me why you were upset, but I refused to tell her. After Camille talked to me, she found Maman and told her what happened and asked her to give you a new audition. Maman says she is amazed you could play so well.

I know I have no right, but I’m proud of you, Sophie. I am so sorry that I didn’t listen to you. I am sorry I sent you to your audition so upset.

Then minutes later—

I love you, Sophie, and I am begging you to forgive me. I am begging you to give us another chance.

I was sobbing now. He hadn’t thrown us away. He’d only given up after months without any word from me.

The next message was a week later.

I miss you so much it hurts. Please text me back. PLEASE.

Then for the next week, he sent me one-sentence texts every night around the same time—based on the time stamp, probably when he went to bed.

I miss your laugh.

I miss your smile.

I miss holding your hand.

I miss seeing the passion on your face when

you play the piano.

I miss teaching you French.

I miss your kiss.

I cried even more.

He didn’t text for several days.

Maman told me you got into her program. I am so proud of you. I know you never want to see me again, but please don’t let that stop you from accepting.

Then a week later—the very end of August
.

Maman told me you have declined your position. My heart hurts that I did this to you. I can never forgive myself.

He began to send me a few random texts in the beginning of September.

There’s another piano concert at Sainte-Chapelle, and it reminded me of our date. Je t’aime, mon coeur, even still.

And—

I lay awake at night wondering how you are doing and if you are okay. That is the hardest part . . . wondering if you are okay.

There were several more texts similar to the others, then in the middle of September he sent another message.

Today marks the two-month anniversary of the first night I kissed you. We’ve been apart longer than we were together. So why does it still hurt so much?

A week later he sent a string of texts.

I must accept that you have given up on us. I know my life will be filled with many regrets, but you will always be the biggest one of all. But I will finally let you go. Au revoir, mon coeur.

The train came to a stop at the station before
Châtelet
, and the older woman next to me gave me several napkins and stroked my cheek. She spoke to me softly in French, and I was startled to realize I understood her. “An affair of the heart?”

“
Oui.
” I nodded.

She said something else, and though the intricacies of the translation were beyond me, I thought it roughly translated to
nothing is impossible with the heart
.

I wiped my cheeks. “
Merci.
”

I only wished it was true.

I transferred trains without getting lost and got off at
Cité
, then texted my father to let him know I was there.

I stood on the corner across the street, and he came out to meet me. He pulled me into a bear hug and then leaned back to study my face. “Did you have any trouble getting here from the airport?”

“No.” I gave him a soft smile. “I’m a pro at the Metro now.”

“You look tired. Would you rather go home?”

“No. I really want to eat lunch with you.”

He took my small suitcase, and we found a nearby café. I ordered a
croque-monsieur
, just like I had on my first day in Paris.

“How’s your brother?” he asked.

“Good. He really wanted to come.”

He nodded. “I understand. I’m hoping to fly back to see one of his basketball games.”

“He would like that.” I took a breath. “I’m not going to lie, Dad. I know Camille has supposedly seen the errors of her ways, but I don’t trust her. I’m nervous about seeing her.”

“We understand. Eva and I considered sending her to Eva’s brother’s for the weekend, and Camille agreed to go.” He put both hands around his glass of water. “She seems sincere. I think the therapy sessions have made a difference. She voluntarily told Mathieu and his mother what happened. Eva also called Madeline and apologized profusely.” He was quiet for a moment. “Eva feels responsible. She’s still willing to send Camille away for the weekend, and she offered to go with her. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable, Sophie.”

“No,” I said softly. “I love Eva. I want her to stay. And I don’t want to send Camille away from her home.”

“Look.” He dropped his hold on his glass and sat back, looking into my eyes. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Sophie. I’ve spent most of my life running from problems and conflict, but I’ve lost the things that were most important to me along the way—I want to fix that. I want to fix
us
.”

“I’d like that.” I took a deep breath, nervous about bringing up my next topic. “Would it be okay if I moved to Paris during Winter Break?”

He blinked. “With me?”

I nodded. “Yes. I emailed Madame Rousseau and asked her if there was any way I could start school for the spring semester. She told me yes.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I thought you didn’t want to go to school there. You turned it down.”

“I was too upset to change my entire life that soon after what happened with Camille and Mathieu. But I’m ready now. I’m ready for the challenge, and I want to spend more time with you.”

“But your mother . . .”

“She gave me her blessing.”

He stared at me for several seconds before his face broke into a huge smile. “I would love for you to move to Paris. As long as you’re sure this is what you want.”

“And you’re okay with me going to the
conservatoire
?”

“I want you to be happy and follow your heart. Besides, Madeline told Eva and me how talented you are. She was disappointed you turned down the position.” Happiness filled his eyes. “I’m glad you changed your mind. For
your
benefit
and
mine.”