Everything after our curt introduction could only be described as history, literally: she was recalling her years; a history I was eager to learn about and a future I was interested to be a part of. The long term was something I always considered, before any romantic engagement.
I learned that she was a successful freelance graphic designer, a native to Paris, contrasting to me only moving to France five years ago.
I was a South Korean born national who simply had a dream and just didn’t want to have to put up with the Korean music industry. I’m not a doll to be controlled and fit into your dollhouse. I also learned that Caroline never came to Brasserie O’Neil’s unless it was necessary. She lied.
She was a regular but she saw me and figured I was a necessity. A little cocky flirt she was. A bit more confident than I was.
I liked that.
“One thing left to wrap up the night,” she proclaimed as if she had just remembered something.
“And what would that be… Caroline?”
“Well… Jimin. I believe that would be your numéro de téléphone (phone number).”
“What makes you think I want to see you again?”
“Your eyes told me.”
“Well on the contrary, my eyes do not speak.”
Once again, we found ourselves gazing into each other’s souls. We made a new record by doubling our time from our previous staring contest. Caroline’s lips parted into a silly, but not shy grin revealing her gapped tooth. Cute.
I handed her my phone and she swiftly saved her number. She got up slowly, her eyes never leaving me, and made it towards the exit.
She turned around at the door and mouthed, “Au revoir.”
***
I didn’t see Caroline again for at least two weeks. During that time, I had somehow sustained a call-back from a record label, asking if I could come in for an interview. I was jumping for the clouds and on a quick spur of elation, I texted Caroline with means to celebrate. There was a charming old patisserie I remembered, nearby Brasserie O’Neil’s that I felt would be a quaint place to sit with some coffee and a pain au chocolat.
As I lived in Beauvais, it was roughly a one-and-a-half-hour commute to Paris that I gladly took to see Caroline.
On approaching the patisserie, I could see through the decorative vines in the window. A familiar banged, blonde haired lady, sat oh-so-prettily admiring the outside view. She was yet to see me.
Her blue eyes sparkled in the sun’s natural glimmer. Her nude lipstick equally matched her very fashionable, Burberry pantsuit. It brought shame to my simple silk black shirt and ripped jean combo. I walked in the place and immediately took a seat opposite my company.
“Did you not notice me outside?” I queried.
“I did, just didn’t want you to know that- actually,” she finally faced me, “I was anticipating your arrival.”
“You were?” I attempted to charm her a bit.
She didn’t reply but only looked at me as if she was searching for something. Maybe she was trying to see what my intentions were. I can assure they were pure.
She looked like the most classy woman I had ever seen. She was only sitting down but I could just feel the power exuding off of her person. She was a confident ray of light; she could make the sun jealous. I gazed over her and I knew I was falling deeply too fast, with no intention of pulling the brakes.
“So,” she started. She shifted in her seat and leaned forward, clasping her hands together, elbows on the table. “I see I was right.”
“De quoi (About what)?”
“About your eyes.”
“Well then I guess they do speak.”
We really needed to stop that staring thing. People might’ve thought something was wrong with us. “We’re never going to get anywhere if we continue just staring,” I declared.
Her eyes snapped out of focus. “You’re right! I’ve probably rinsed your ears out with all the talking I did last time.”
I laughed, and I think I felt something in my pants when I saw her stick her tongue between her diastema. Do I have a gapped tooth kink?
“Oh, it’s okay, I’m not much of a talker,” I timidly replied.
“Oui, I noticed.”
I looked to my right and a stout waitress came towards our table. I couldn’t judge her since I was a bit short myself. “Bonjour!” she greeted, “Qu'est-ce que vous voudriez (What would you like)?"
“Je voudrais un pain au chocolat. (I would like a chocolate croissant)”
My eyes became the size of bulbs. We had said it at the same time. We looked sharply at each, sheer amusement plastering our faces.
“Deux (two), pain au chocolats,” I chuckled out. The waitress smiled. She motioned to the coffee kettle in her hand and both my date and I nodded. What is happening?! I could tell the waitress wanted to laugh as she poured the hot liquid into our readily prepared mugs.
Some time had passed and our pastries had made their way to our plates. Caroline and I chatted over our brunch and I relayed the exciting news of my call-back to her. Somehow, my words had just flowed. Talking to her was like surfing a soft wave and I would not fall off my surfboard any time soon. Surprisingly, Caroline and I had a lot of things in common. She had a passion for music but didn’t want to pursue it and lucky for her, I was interested in those two things.
And we also had daddy issues.
Both our fathers had gone to get milk and “mysteriously” didn’t come back. The difference was that I was merely a fetus when it happened and she was thirteen. My father dipped when he found out my mother was pregnant and blamed her for it because she knew he didn’t want kids. Well, it takes two.
Caroline never knew why her father left but she came up with the only logical solution: her. I reassured her that it was not but she dismissed my attempts of comfort, by saying she was over it. I guess I believed her as she seemed nonchalant about it.
We spent a total of two hours at the patisserie and I closed off our date saying, “It’s like we have the same mind.”
“Oh trust me darling...” Before I knew it, my date swiftly made her lips way to my cheek. I felt tingles sparsely spread from the spot she kissed to all over my body. It was quick but gentle. I blinked rapidly trying to pull my head out of the clouds. In a split second, she was back to her spot facing me. “We don’t.”
There was a certain emphasis in her tone that I couldn’t quite figure out. Little did I know how much weight that statement really held.
~~~~
A/N:
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House of Cards
Fanfiction"Who are you?" "Caroline." Jimin's lived a treacherous life for 3 years now under the gaze of his love. She hurts him both physically and mentally but his love still prevails. Will his house of cards come crashing down or will he pick back up the p...
