A Voir Sans

VI. Après

Around 1 p.m., Olivia woke to a headache, two missed calls, and a voicemail. The call and the voicemail were from an unknown number with a Baton Rouge area code. She put her phone to her ear and heard her professor's concerned voice, "Olivia, Isabel told me what happened last night, I'm not upset. Just tell me that you are alright and come back as soon as you can." She felt her stomach drop, and immediately regretted what she said to Isabel in the heat of the moment. It was unfair to threaten her when she was trying to look out.

She typed a response, "I'm safe, I'll be back by tonight. I'm sorry." It was far from the best response, but it was all she could bring herself to write. She wanted to let Jaiden know what happened, but she struggled with what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell her about James, she wanted to tell her everything, but she felt as if what had happened was too intimate to detail to others. So instead, she replied, "Sorry I didn't get back to you last night, I'll call you later." She turned off her phone and turned to face James, his brow furrowed in sleep. He seemed to be the worrying type, another aspect they mirrored each other in. She wrapped her arms him, and he sighed and nestled further against her. She wondered if she should leave before he wakes to avoid saying goodbye. She thought about the people who have entered her life that she would never see again, how many times does anyone actually get to say those words? If things were different, she would be leaving just for the day, and would have no need to tell him anything more than a simple "later." If things were different, he would have told her his last name before he told her that his mother had terminal cancer. But things weren't different, they weren't ideal, they just were. And they always will be.

And some part of her, perhaps the very part that stifled all these years, was beginning to find peace with that.

Olivia pressed her lips to the crease of his forehead before slowly detangling her body from his. She walked to the kitchenette, where Satchmo was waiting with his bushy tail curled around him. She fed him quietly with a can that was left on the counter. One less thing for him to worry about, she thought. She looked for a piece of paper and pen, and in the process found on a piece of mail bearing James' last name.

She uncapped the pen, and wrote in a plain, steady script;

Kent,

Goodbyes aren't my speciality, so I'll just say good afternoon. We're heading to Nice tomorrow, so I don't know if I'll see you again. If not, I'd just like to say, I'm glad I saw you by the fountain and I'm glad I went back with you. You have the most beautiful home and heart in all of Paris, please don't be ashamed.

your rich American girl,

Bordelon

P.S. I think I already adored you too.

P.S.S. Satchmo has been fed.

Olivia walked over to James, gave his sleeping form one last longing look, and placed the paper by the side of his bed. She left her dress where it had been tossed the night before, crumpled in the corner of the room, and put on one of his linen button downs instead. It was see through, and barely brushed the middle of her thighs. She put on her flats and headed out the door anyway.

Today was the perfect day for the beach.