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“Thank you.”
She moves her chair closer and takes my hand.
“Stop your guilt. He’s cut you as well. Don’t blame yourself for a man who ran away. He did not face you and tell you his heart hurt. He hid away from destiny and you without thought. You’re both fools but he didn’t face the magnitude of what you share.”
I inch closer to her.
She pats my arm. “My mama and papa were fated like you two. For better or worse, you are destino. Whether you choose to do something about it or not, it will always live in your heart.”
I stand and she hugs me hard.
She whispers, “You know where he is. You’ve always known. He’s right where you left him.” I squeeze her back.
I’m beyond tears and grateful but it’s time to go home. She packs up too many cookies. She’s used to cooking for athletes.
I call my mom while heading to the gate and let her know, “Liliana said the right thing.”
“Damn, I wish I did.”
I laugh at her. “Mom, it’s time for me to go home. I need it.”
Mom says, “Ok. If that’s what you think. I’ll be here.”
* * *
I slept hard the entire flight and chomp some cookies from my purse as I wake up.
The flight attendant announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, as we begin our descent into Charles de Gaulle Airport, we ask that you return your tray tables and seats to their upright and locked positions. Merci et bien venue au Paris.”
BETTE
I drop my stuff and go directly there. It’s late but I’m determined, and it knocks me out how powerful these memories are. I stand across the street and stare at the building. I’d blocked all of this out for so long and now it’s creeping up, flooding me with warmth of our history. The house is more beautiful than any memory. The stone is somehow older and more regal, and the door cheerier than when we left it. A piece of me has always lived here, a protected and special part of me that only he could ever have. I need it back so I can protect and care for both of us with it. All those years with a hole in my heart—who knew it was here all along?
He steals my breath away as I stare at the massive windows of the top floor. Bette would bang down the door, and Lizzie would run away. I’m not sure who I am but I’m not ready to be told there’s no hope. I watch him paint for close to an hour and fall into my bed around 2:00 a.m. amongst the life and energy of the Left Bank.
* * *
I’ve been here for three days, but I only come by the house at night. I don’t know what to say yet, so I occupy my days with croissants and revisiting our past. But each night around midnight, I wander over and watch him paint from the stoop across the street. I’ve determined he’s alone and that he’s magnificent. He’s like the best TV show.
I went to Picasso Museum yesterday and today I’m sitting on a white marble bench, staring at the intersecting lines and archways of the Lefuel stairwell. The one where our fate was sealed. Not sure what I thought coming here. I guess a part of me was hoping he’s be waiting here for me in our past.
A security guard smiles as I snap a picture of the staircase. Despite my overly dramatic antics wandering around Paris, right here is where he became the only one I’d ever truly rely on besides myself.
I’m standing out front, near the light up pyramid sculpture thing, and I get fucking furious. I see what should have been, the conversation I should have had and then I roll my eyes at the superior attitude I flipped out to justify my terrible behavior.
The thoughts whizz through my brain like a montage of what I wish would have happened.
He would have been there for prom and I would have been on the sidelines of all his games and held him when he ripped up his shoulder. I would have supported him as he pivoted towards a new dream. I wouldn’t have let him compromise his art for the sake of paycheck.
And he would have let me be the Lizzie I was supposed to be without having to become Bette. He would have held me as Kristin took her last breath and been my cheerleader when I let my past slide off my overextended back and enjoyed the moment I threw out the rule book. I would have helped him get his mother away from his fucking father, and he would have helped me break it off with my father sooner.
I may have become a person I could be proud of, but I never would have loved myself if Danny Danson hadn’t loved me first. Did we need the separation in order to be together? Life working out the way it’s supposed to and all that. Is that how does destino works?
I wander away from the museum, pull Kris’ trench coat around me. I’m going back to my hotel to get the drunkest I’ve ever been.
I’m hoping to black out the things I did and said a month ago. Is that the way blackout drunk works? Eliminate the dumb shit you’ve done that ruined your whole life? Can you pre-select the blackout moments like a very specific mind eraser? We’ll see.
* * *
