Ava Fodor, a slightly plump, frizzy-haired nineteen-year-old American au pair in Paris struggles with being less than perfect. Jean-Michel is Ava's fussy, exacting first French boyfriend whose provincialism drives her up the wall yet who educates he...
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"Ava, why did you run off like that? Was it something I did?"
"I wanted to be by myself. I'm sorry, Arnaud." We stood around the corner from Teddy's, outside the entrance to my apartment building. He'd waited out the duration of my performance at the bar at Teddy's then followed me outside. It was time to have it out.
"What do you mean, you're sorry?" His eyes searched mine. For once, I had his full attention.
"I mean – we aren't right for each other."
I'd said it. Thank God, I'd gotten what I needed to tell him out on the table before our conversation moved any further along.
"You mean you are seeing Pierre? That con bastard. I can't believe you'd fall for someone like him." Arnaud seethed, his face a mask of disgust. "He's dull, Ava. Conventional. Boring. Not like you at all."
"No. I'm not seeing Pierre. I just don't see myself with you anymore. It has nothing to do with Pierre." Okay, I lied a teeny bit. Realizing Arnaud wasn't right for me had a little something to do with Pierre entering the picture. But I wasn't about to jump into his friend's arms. Neither was I about to reconnect with Arnaud. I needed to reconnect with myself. But that was harder to explain.
"Of course it has everything to do with Pierre. We were fine before he showed up."
"No, we weren't fine. You were in Vietnam, or Thailand, or wherever, and I was here. You have no idea if I was fine or not while you were gone. That's the point."
"That's not the point. You know what my job is. I've gone on trips before and you were always okay with it. What's changed this time?"
"I've changed." I wasn't going to compete with anyone for Arnaud's affections - neither some woman from his past named Mélanie nor some turbo-charged version of myself I no longer wished to be.
"Well – what – how – what do you mean, you've changed?" he sputtered. I'd never seen him at a loss for words before.
"It doesn't matter. It just matters that I'm no longer someone who's meant to be with you." Actually, I couldn't think of anyone who might be meant to be with Arnaud. There was no other woman I could imagine being jealous of as Arnaud's girlfriend, now I knew what being with him was really like. If I continued seeing him, there'd be more loneliness. More long periods of separation. More je t'adore declarations diluted by see you when I get back ones. My heart shriveled at the thought. Whoever Mélanie was, the fact that she hadn't asked about Arnaud when she'd bumped into Pierre told me she wasn't in the market to be his girlfriend. Maybe she already knew it was an impossible job.
"Of course, you're meant to be with me, Ava. You and I are alike." He paused, apparently trying to think of some ways in which we were.
"Are we?" I didn't think so anymore. It had taken Pierre coming along to make me realize I didn't want to have to work so hard at being someone I wasn't. I just wanted to be appreciated for being not-so-clever, not-so flashy me.
