Two Weeks With Chelsea

Chapter 27

Trevor placed two cups of coffee on a table in front of a café, la Mie Câline, on the north end of Allées Paul Riquet, then took the seat to the right of Chelsea. As she waited for Trevor to bring the coffee, she had started into a croissant while watching cars make their way through the traffic circle on their morning commute. With her croissant nearly finished her eyes turned to the small bag in his hand.

"I think we should stop in at that tourism office you found last night," Trevor said as he removed his raisin bun from the bag. "They can probably point us to the must-see things around town. Oh, don't let me forget, I need to call the hotel in Marseille and see if I can change my reservation. Better yet, I'll just try sending them an email right now."

"What's that?" Chelsea squealed as she randomly pointed to a spot behind Trevor.

"Nice try. Do you need another croissant?"

"That looks good," she said as she gazed at the bun in Trevor's hand.

Trevor returned a couple minutes later with two more raisin buns as Chelsea finished the last bites of his first. She smiled as he took his seat then suggested, "We should probably think about doing laundry when we get to Marseille. I may have packed a little too light so I'm going to run out of stuff to wear by the end of the week."

"It's not ideal, but it wouldn't be the first time I washed my underwear with shampoo. Just don't ever use hand soap, trust me," Trevor replied as he typed the email to the Hotel Alize in Marseille. "I'm probably going to wash socks and underwear tonight. I just hate rummaging through my suitcase with dirty socks and stuff in there. That towel rack in the room looks like it would be good to dry stuff on."

Chelsea looked down at the table and felt embarrassed by the idea of hanging her underwear on the A-frame rack in the bathroom beside Trevor's. Instead, she would probably drape them over the edge of her suitcase in the privacy of the bedroom, out of sight. As she thought about it, she realized there was more than just shyness at play; she felt embarrassed that her under garments were very plain, very beige, very childish. They were a reflection of how she viewed herself.

"Or, I'm sure we can find a place to pick up some essentials to get us by 'til we get into a laundromat," Trevor added before he took a bite of a raisin bun. "As we walk around, keep your eyes open for a place we can drop our laundry and not have to hang around and do it ourselves."

"By essentials you mean a new wardrobe for me," Chelsea said after she had taken a sip of coffee.

After they finished breakfast, they made their way to the tourism office to get brochures and maps, then started down the narrow streets towards the Cathedral Saint Nazaire. Chelsea snapped photo after photo of the tan-grey gothic stone building. The round apse with squared columns and tall arched windows, and a bell tower set back on the right, loomed over the sacristy on the eastern facade. She stood and gazed at the weathered accents and gargoyles that adorn the building before proceeding along the north side towards the front. She stood against a low wall at the top of the embankment overlooking the River Orb and pointed her camera towards the Cathedral.

"I love those kinds of windows," she said as she pointed towards the rosette window high in the center of the west facing front wall.

"Come on," Trevor said as he proceeded to the large wooden doors in a pointed arch below the window.

Chelsea snapped one last photo then lowered her camera to follow Trevor.

"It's locked. Let's try the door at the side, "Trevor said as he started towards the door on the north side of the building.

The side door of the cathedral was open. Trevor looked in before proceeding then Chelsea followed behind. Except for a small army of women, busily cleaning the floor and pews, the cathedral was vacant.