Missing In Paris

Chapter 29

Was it a mirage of métro platforms past?

Or was it really him?

She squinted for a better look, but once the man finished crossing the street and made his way towards the shelter, there was no longer any question in her mind.

The mythical Antonio had returned.

The door hinges strained as he entered the shelter.

Neela stood frozen, clutching the kitty and trying to keep the emotional diarrhea at bay.

Where had the confident woman who no longer felt self-conscious gone?

Maybe a black hole had swallowed up, because the woman standing in the shelter holding the cat had absolutely zero chill.

She couldn't help but take in the sight of him, after not having seen him for so long. He was wearing dockers and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway. You could eat charcuterie off those forearms, and you would want to.

He smiled at her, the sort of smile that could melt a thousand hearts, and a smile that didn't even bother masquerading his intentions. He was definitely not here for a puppy.

Antonio was here with a singular purpose, and currently that 'purpose' was cradling a one-eyed cat.

"Salut," Antonio said, in the soothing 'café au lait' tone she remembered so well. 'Café au lait' tone? That's not a thing. Shut up.

"Salut," Neela said, before coughing like she had a hairball stuck in her throat.

Smooth. Real smooth.

He studied her top-to-bottom but it wasn't creepy at all; it was the sort of look someone gives when they're trying to wipe away the cobwebs from a distant memory. "You look so...different," he managed to say.

Neela remembered that evening on the métro platform. Her hair falling perfectly in place...hat fabulous dress. It was a far cry from her current fashion statement of faded jeans and flannel.

Her ears reddened with embarrassment, as she imagined the hag-like comparisons he must've been making in his mind. What happened to the Canadian autumn gal who was happy just as she was? Deceased.

"Most of my clothes are at the drycleaners," she finally said, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. "But it's closed because..." She drew a blank as he stared at her expectantly. "They're dead. The entire staff." She shook her head sadly. "Carbon monoxide poisoning."

The length of the awkward silence that followed extended beyond the normal gestation period of an elephant.

The cat must've felt the awkwardness too, as it started to squirm in her arms. She calmed him with a gentle forehead kiss which had the added effect of dissolving Neela's embarrassment. She had a higher purpose as a cat mother now, with or without random métro dudes.

She raised an eyebrow. "So...what are you doing here?"

"Are you adopting this...cat with only one eye?"

He was clearly evading the question.

"His name is Voltaire and he's adopting me," she declared, her confidence slowly returning.

He nodded slowly. "It is nice of you, to give him a home despite his...limitations."

"Every man is guilty of the good he did not do," she recited, her voice full of grandeur.

"This is the first time I have ever heard Voltaire spoken in English," he admitted.

"And?" she said expectantly.

"Well...I had assumed that his philosophical musings would sound terrible in English; primitive even."

His grin may have been a mocking one, but that didn't stop it from being one of the greatest grins of all time. It was the sort of grin you could R.I.P. in, Neela thought.

Despite her deathly observation, she managed to stay alive. And even stone-faced.

"Primitive huh?" She scoffed. "That's funny, because while you were all busy trashing English, I was remembering all the times I've heard a French person try to sing Sinatra, or Nirvana, or Adele." She rubbed her chin. "Wow...it's weird how all those memories line up with all the times I vomited in public."

He instantly laughed. "You are not an easy person."

When you'd been around French people long enough, it was possible to interpret confusing lines like "you are not an easy person" into the appropriate context, or in this case, the fact that he was saying she was complicated, and not trying to say that she wasn't a 'ho. Maybe she was a 'ho. The jury was still out on that.

"Basic conversations are boring," she said. "Is it too much for you to handle?"

He moved a few inches closer. Damn.

"It is not," he said a lowered voice.

As a hot-blooded woman of the world, Neela was somewhat affected by the closeness of his body and the faintest smell of his cologne. She noticed Voltaire's single eye fixed directly on her face. Did Voltaire know she was getting turned on? Was it weird to hold a cat when you were starting to get turned on? So many questions!

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah I'm cool," she said casually, before remembering the strangeness of this meeting. "You didn't answer me before; what are you doing here?" She frowned. "And how are you even in the same place as me?"

"I can explain this," he said, "but the cat will not have the patience. Do you have time to take a coffee?"

She looked into Voltaire's lone expectant eye. Was she really going to leave her feline soul mate high and dry at the first sight of manly delights?

"I'm actually kind of busy right now," she said flatly, her gaze still fixed on Voltaire. He started purring and she knew she'd made the right decision.

"Okay..." he said awkwardly. "But I would really like—"

She raised her hand to interrupt him. "We can have a coffee when I'm done here." She gestured to the door. "Why don't you go wait outside? It's a lovely day."

"Perfect," he said. "Thank you."

Without another word he went outside, and Neela nodded in approval.

She still had a lot of questions, and she still hadn't absorbed what was really going on, but she definitely liked being in charge...

***

A half an hour later, Neela stepped outside and crossed the street to where Antonio was waiting under the shade of a tree.

"Where is Voltaire?" he asked. "Did you change your mind?"

She gasped. "Change my mind?! Never! I'm picking him up tomorrow. I just need to buy a bunch of kitty stuff first. Like a carrier. And a bed." She pulled out her phone and started typing out a list. "And food. And a jingly toy. And a sparkly red bowtie that'll bring out his eyes." She frowned. "I mean one eye." She caught him staring at her. "What?"

"It's just so strange to hear your voice again," he said.

"Yeah..."

She stuffed her phone into her pocket and their first real moment lingered in the breeze.

"Okayyy you two!" cried an unmistakable voice. "Has the shock worn off yet or not?"

Neela gasped and whipped her head around. "Oh my god! You!"

Dante grinned. "You bet it's me! Who else could've changed the course of your entire existence?"

Neela was nowhere close to absorbing this latest shock. "But...how?"

He guided her to the nearest bench and Antonio immediately followed.

As the two of them sat down, Dante stood before them and nodded. "Okay; prepare to get your world rocked..."