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Authors: Cynthia Morris
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complainer? She thought she kept her bad attitude under cover. And what about Susan’s offer? Maybe she could write. But now she was going to Paris, and the time before her departure flew by.
Lily accepted Valerie’s offer of a ride to DIA, and at the last minute Daniel asked to come with them. When Valerie pulled up in her blue VW Beetle, Lily wasn’t ready to leave him. In the car, Daniel sat in the back and reached forward to touch Lily’s hand in the passenger seat. Valerie had looked over at her and smirked.
“Watch out for those charming French men,” she warned. “And be careful with those almond croissants!” As Valerie recounted a story of eating too many pastries after a particularly rowdy night with friends, Lily watched the flat plains unroll. It was hard to imagine that she’d be in Paris soon, and she doubted she’d be up all night partying with friends.
They arrived late, prompting quick curbside good-byes. Lily promised Daniel she’d email him.
“What about me?” Valerie teased. Lily gave her a last hug, blew a kiss to Daniel, and pulled her suitcase into the airport. On her flight to New York, she wrote in her notebook everything she would do and see in Paris:
1) Eat an almond croissant for Valerie.
2) Visit Shakespeare and Company (original one, rue de l’Odéon).
3) Check out the Pompidou Center.
4) Go to the Père Lachaise cemetery.
5) Buy something for Daniel at a quayside bouquiniste .
6) Buy French notebooks.
7) Picnic by the Seine. . .
Flying east away from the sunset, Lily realized that lots of activities might keep her busy enough to forget her last time in Paris, when her college education had come crashing to a halt. The colors in the sky intensified, pink deepening to orange, then maroon. Lily shook her head, and tucking her pen in her notebook, picked up her book to read.
In the departure lounge at New York, awaiting the next flight, she telephoned her father and assured him everything was okay. Monique came on the line, wishing her a pleasant trip to Paris. Pleasant? Lily thought. Who said “pleasant” anymore? It irritated her, hearing Monique’s voice when she simply wanted to talk to her father. She barely had a chance to say good-bye to him before the call came to board her flight to Paris.
Lily situated herself in her seat by the window, tucking her book in the seat pocket. As the seats filled with new passengers, she caught snatches of French phrases, and she experienced a little thrill—soon, she’d hear French all the time. She was ready to go, and best yet, no one had taken the seat next to her. She might be able to lie down and sleep a little.
Her wish dissolved when a sophisticated woman who appeared to be in her forties came down the aisle, squinting at the numbers above the seats. Her dark hair was carefully coiffed in a thirties style and her lipstick was bright red. She stopped at Lily’s row and smiled. “Here I am.”
Lily removed her notebook from the seat. So much for extra room, she thought. “Sorry,” Lily said, putting the notebook on her lap.
“Not a problem,” replied the woman, taking her seat. She held her leather satchel in her lap until the flight attendant told her to stow it.
When they reached cruising altitude, Lily unbuckled her seat belt and picked up her notebook. Because she’d stayed up late with Daniel the night before, she hadn’t slept much. Now she was paying the price. She wasn’t able to focus enough to write anything, so she put her journal away. Through the window, she watched the clouds scroll before her eyes, thinking, Only six hours before I arrive in Paris . She pulled the window cover over the window and shifted to lean against it. Sleep would be good, she thought.
Opening her eyes, Lily awoke confused. It took a second to remember that she was on the plane to Paris. She had no idea how long she’d napped. The woman next to her was reading a book, peering intently through a pair of glasses attached to
Lily accepted Valerie’s offer of a ride to DIA, and at the last minute Daniel asked to come with them. When Valerie pulled up in her blue VW Beetle, Lily wasn’t ready to leave him. In the car, Daniel sat in the back and reached forward to touch Lily’s hand in the passenger seat. Valerie had looked over at her and smirked.
“Watch out for those charming French men,” she warned. “And be careful with those almond croissants!” As Valerie recounted a story of eating too many pastries after a particularly rowdy night with friends, Lily watched the flat plains unroll. It was hard to imagine that she’d be in Paris soon, and she doubted she’d be up all night partying with friends.
They arrived late, prompting quick curbside good-byes. Lily promised Daniel she’d email him.
“What about me?” Valerie teased. Lily gave her a last hug, blew a kiss to Daniel, and pulled her suitcase into the airport. On her flight to New York, she wrote in her notebook everything she would do and see in Paris:
1) Eat an almond croissant for Valerie.
2) Visit Shakespeare and Company (original one, rue de l’Odéon).
3) Check out the Pompidou Center.
4) Go to the Père Lachaise cemetery.
5) Buy something for Daniel at a quayside bouquiniste .
6) Buy French notebooks.
7) Picnic by the Seine. . .
Flying east away from the sunset, Lily realized that lots of activities might keep her busy enough to forget her last time in Paris, when her college education had come crashing to a halt. The colors in the sky intensified, pink deepening to orange, then maroon. Lily shook her head, and tucking her pen in her notebook, picked up her book to read.
In the departure lounge at New York, awaiting the next flight, she telephoned her father and assured him everything was okay. Monique came on the line, wishing her a pleasant trip to Paris. Pleasant? Lily thought. Who said “pleasant” anymore? It irritated her, hearing Monique’s voice when she simply wanted to talk to her father. She barely had a chance to say good-bye to him before the call came to board her flight to Paris.
Lily situated herself in her seat by the window, tucking her book in the seat pocket. As the seats filled with new passengers, she caught snatches of French phrases, and she experienced a little thrill—soon, she’d hear French all the time. She was ready to go, and best yet, no one had taken the seat next to her. She might be able to lie down and sleep a little.
Her wish dissolved when a sophisticated woman who appeared to be in her forties came down the aisle, squinting at the numbers above the seats. Her dark hair was carefully coiffed in a thirties style and her lipstick was bright red. She stopped at Lily’s row and smiled. “Here I am.”
Lily removed her notebook from the seat. So much for extra room, she thought. “Sorry,” Lily said, putting the notebook on her lap.
“Not a problem,” replied the woman, taking her seat. She held her leather satchel in her lap until the flight attendant told her to stow it.
When they reached cruising altitude, Lily unbuckled her seat belt and picked up her notebook. Because she’d stayed up late with Daniel the night before, she hadn’t slept much. Now she was paying the price. She wasn’t able to focus enough to write anything, so she put her journal away. Through the window, she watched the clouds scroll before her eyes, thinking, Only six hours before I arrive in Paris . She pulled the window cover over the window and shifted to lean against it. Sleep would be good, she thought.
Opening her eyes, Lily awoke confused. It took a second to remember that she was on the plane to Paris. She had no idea how long she’d napped. The woman next to her was reading a book, peering intently through a pair of glasses attached to
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