Letters to Audrine

3- That Was Nonsense

The address on all of the letters is about half a mile away from the hotel that I'm staying at. I didn't expect to be so nervous about showing up there until I start leaving the hotel with the shoebox of letters. The odds of this working are so low, and whoever lives there now will think I'm absolutely crazy.

If Audrine still lives there, what would I even say to her? "Hi, you had a fling with my grandpa sixty years ago and he never stopped loving you. Too late to do anything about that, he's dead now. Just wanted to introduce myself."

I'm already here though, and I didn't come halfway across the world to back out at the last second. With that in mind, I begin the walk up a large hill toward the address, according to a map that I have downloaded on my phone.

The summer heat is pretty grueling, and there's barely any shade along the street that I'm walking on. Today, I'm wearing bike shorts under my sundress to avoid the chafing that I had dealt with yesterday during my travels, but I'm still uncomfortably sweaty and I wish that I would have brought some deodorant with me so that I could reapply once I get up this hill.

During the entire walk, I try to rehearse some simple French phrases that I can say when I get to this address, like "I'm looking for Audrine". Since the letters are all written in English, I assume that she speaks English. And I'm counting on it, considering we wouldn't be able to have meaningful conversations about my grandpa if we can't speak the same language.

The walking path that I follow away from the hotel is narrow, and so beautiful. The tan buildings look very old, and they've clearly been here for a long time. The faded paint and chipped bricks and stones, an overgrowth of plants droop themselves over the side of the buildings make it feel like I'm walking through a moment in history. Even though the store signs are written in French, I can understand most of them. I pass a bakery, a boutique, and a cafe on my way toward the address written on the envelopes. They're all bustling with people, and the narrow path that I'm walking is full of pedestrians out to enjoy the beautiful weather this morning.

According to the map, I'm getting close and it looks like I just have to turn one last corner and I should be there. I was enjoying the scenery so much that I had distracted myself a little bit from the situation at hand, and once I get to the corner to turn, my nerves immediately come back at full force.

I have to push my shaky knees forward until I turn the corner and I'm standing in front of the right address. At least, I thought that I was at the right address. When I see myself looking at a beautiful restaurant, I feel less confident that I'm right because I was expecting to be arriving at a house.

The restaurant blends into the rest of the buildings that I've been passing, covered in plant overgrowth, bustling with people at the outdoor tables and surrounded by some trees making it look like I'm suddenly in the middle of the forest.

This is where the map says that I'm supposed to be, so I decide that I'll just go in and try to talk to an employee. If I'm at the wrong address, maybe they would be able to point me in the right direction.

Passing all of the busy tables outside, I go through the front doors and feel the great relief of the cool indoors. Right at the front of the restaurant, there's a long bakery counter with fresh-looking danishes, desserts, and croissants. I'm greeted by the warm smell of freshly baked bread and a hint of lemon. Behind that counter, there's a man standing there organizing some napkin-wrapped silverware. When he sees me walk in, he offers me a small smile.

"Salut," he greets me, and I know that means hello, but he continues speaking French after that and I can't understand any more of what he says.

"Salut," I say back to him, stepping closer to the counter. I feel like I'm about to make myself look so stupid when I try to speak French, but I don't really have a choice. Even if I get the words right, I feel like I'm going to mess up the pronunciations so badly that he still won't understand me. I have the address open on my phone, so I show my screen to him and I say, "Je cherche cette adresse."