Paris: A Night to Remember (May 2018)

“I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” said Jess. She moved the pot to another burner and dived for the nearby cleaning supplies. The spaghetti had boiled over covering the stove and countertop in the communal kitchen of the youth hostel with a starchy mess.  Ian’s small open notebook caught the brunt of the water, soaking his hand-drawn artist’s renderings. Jess was a flurry of paper towels trying to dry everything in sight. 

Ian said, “Hey, don’t worry about it.  It’s no big deal.  It’s just scribblings.” Jess had picked up the book and was wiping down the front cover frantically.

“It is a big deal.  Art is important.  Look, I’m really sorry.” He rescued his notebook from her and flipped through the pages.

“See?  Not too much damage.  Just the first few pages.  It will dry.  Chill.”

Jess had just arrived in Paris riding the train from London that morning and landing in the Gare du Nord. Her backpack was needlessly overfilled but she shouldered her burden as she made her way to this establishment for lodgings, the cheapest on her list of possibilities. Her luck held out as she was early enough to grab one of the few remaining berths and would be able to camp out for the night.  Not having eaten since dawn, she snatched her meager cooking stash and headed to the kitchen immediately after having dropped her gear on her bunk.

“Look, I’m really sorry.  Let me make it up to you.  Are you interested in having some spaghetti? There’s enough for two.  I made extra.  I’m so hungry and my eyes tend to be larger than my stomach when I’m hungry. I said that already. I’m talking too much.  I’m really sorry!” She was already dishing out a couple of plates before she took a breath. “I’ve got pesto and parmesan cheese.  Not the most French of meals but it should do in a pinch. I’m really glad this kitchen has pots and dishes. The one I stayed at in Dublin didn’t and I ended up heating up my green beans in the can they came in on a hot plate.”

Ian just sat back and watched the spectacle before him.  Hiking boots, blue jeans, a plaid flannel shirt tied around her waist, a union jack tank top and a chunky men’s wrist watch told the story of a young woman used to travelling.  But it was her eyes that stopped him from just washing the dirt off his hands and heading out to meet his mates.  Something about them. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

She’d set down the two plates on the table and finally stopped moving.  “I’m sorry.  Damn, I’ve got to quit apologizing for everything.”  She took a deep breath. “I didn’t get an answer if you even wanted to eat.  I just,” she sighed, “made an assumption.  I’m sure you are on your way someplace.  Let me start over.  Hi.  I’m Jess. I just arrived in Paris.” She held out her hand and plastered a smile on her face.

“Ian,” he answered as he held her hand in his a moment longer than may have been necessary.

“You’re not obligated to join me. It’s not a ploy to make you stay,” she waved her hand. “I’m just really sorry about your notebook.  I know how important my journal is to me.  Please accept my sincere apology.”

“Like I said, no big deal. This was a new notebook and I don’t have much in it yet. And, yes, I do have plans this evening.  It does look inviting but I’ve got to go. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Thanks. Enjoy your evening.” She watched him disappear and sank down into the folding chair that was an inch too short for the table. She moved the 2^nd plate of food closer to her, picked up her fork and set it back down. Yet again, she’d made a fool of herself; one more item in her long list of faults to haunt her dreams. She shook herself.  The one thing she was not going to do, was wallow in self-pity.  She was in Paris! She might have to budget carefully but she was going to enjoy as much of this city as her bank account would allow.  She was not going to waste time thinking about what could have been even if he was cute. She picked up her fork and dug in.

Ian headed out of the hostel and checked his phone. 

“Running an hour late.  Start without me,” Raj wrote.

“I’m bringing Cara with me.  I know this was supposed to be guys only but ….” Dan contributed.

“Ici.” This from Etienne.  Ian smiled.  He could count on Etienne. The four of them had met the first day of the architecture course taught at the sister institution to Kent State University. This had been his final semester. He opted out of the graduation ceremony to spend an extra week in Paris but since the school kicked him out of his dorm, he was staying at the hostel until his flight home.  Ian hung a right and headed down the metro station stairs, two at a time. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a union jack tank top but with a 2^nd look, realized it was just the corner of a poster advertising trips to London via the Chunnel.  He crammed into the overstuffed metro car and leaned back against the door once it had closed.  His phone vibrated again.

“Cara doesn’t like the Irish pub. We’re going to The Five. See you there.”

“Dude, I’m already here,” Etienne had typed.

“Dan, come on,” Ian texted. “This is my last night. This is supposed to be guys night, got it?”

“Don’t think I’m going to make it after all,” Raj typed. “Sorry.”

The car came to a jerky stop throwing everyone forward by 2 feet.  The doors open and Ian squeezed out like toothpaste and headed up the stairs. Topside, he typed “I’m 5 minutes from the pub.”

Etienne was leaning against the bar with two pints in front of him.  Ian grabbed one, tapped it against the glass in his friend’s hand and downed half.  “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

“Yeah, sorry. I know you were hoping for more,” Etienne replied.

“No worries.” His phone vibrated again.

“Cara and I are at The Five.  You guys coming?”

“No. Sorry, man. Another time.” Ian shoved his phone in his front jeans pocket and shook his head. “To be honest, Etienne, you’re the one I wanted to see most tonight anyway.” He clapped his buddy on the back.  He took another drag on his beer. “You sure you don’t want to come to the states with me?”

“I’d love to. I’ve got my summer job. Maybe over Christmas break?”

“Slacker.”

“Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t born a year earlier.” He emptied his glass and signaled to the barkeep. “So, what’s the news on the internship front?”

“Didn’t I tell you?  I’ve got an interview next week.” Ian put some notes on the bar.

“Your money’s no good here.  Tonight’s on me,” Etienne said. “Congrats on the interview. Is it something you want to do?”

“Yeah, sounds golden on paper. We’ll see what they have to say.” Ian said distractedly and took another drink.

“That’s it? That’s all I’m getting? Where is it? What are you going to do? How much does it pay? Do you get a corner office?” Etienne backhanded Ian on the shoulder. “Dude, you seem a bit out of it. Oh wait, I’ve seen that look before.”  Etienne leaned back.  “What’s her name?”

“It doesn’t always have to be a girl.”

“But it always is.”

Ian looked sideways at his friend and sighed.  “Jess.”

“Shit, I knew it.”

“I only met her for like 5 minutes and she’s long gone now so forget it.”

“Oh, yeah. Spill.”

“No big deal. I met in the kitchen at the hostel.  We talked for a few minutes and I left. That’s it.”

“You talked?  You never talk.  I’ve never met a guy as shy as you.” Etienne said.

“She spilled water on my notebook.” He pulled it out of his back pocket to show the water stained book as exhibit one. “She apologized and invited me to eat with her. I said no and left.”

Etienne wiggled his finger in front of Ian’s face.  “And yet your mind is still back in that kitchen with her and not here in the bar with me.”

“It’s my last night in Paris.  Of course, I am here with you and not chasing some tail.”

“Seriously, you’d rather be sitting in a bar getting drunk with me than hooking up with some female distraction? Dude, you got an issue with your priorities.”

“You know, you have an awful lot of American slang for a French guy.”

“Half, mom’s an American.”

“Still.”

Etienne put his hand over Ian’s empty glass when the bartender came by.

“What?  No,” Ian protested.

“I don’t know why you’re still sitting here.” Etienne indicated the exit with his eyes.

“There’s plenty of girls right here in this bar.” Ian turned around to face the room. “I could go up to any one of them.  There’s a blonde over there.  She’s cute.”

“OK, go, what’s stopping you?”

“She’s with her friends.  I don’t want to interrupt her.”

“And that, my friend, is your whole problem. You’re going to have to get over that.  Haven’t I taught you anything? You go over to that table, right now, and say, ‘Hi my name is Ian.  Can I buy you a drink?’ Simple as that.” Etienne gave him a slight push.

Ian took a step forward. “I’ve been around the block.  I know how this works. I’ve had my share of dating around.” He looked over to the table of 3 young women, talking animatedly but yet still on display, inviting. He caught the blonde’s eye but did not feel that spark he had experienced back in the kitchen of the hostel. He slightly shook his head and turned back around to face the bar.

“What am I going to do with you?” Etienne questioned.

Ian looked at his friend full in the face, put a hand on each shoulder and said, “You’re going to wish me good luck and say goodbye because I’m leaving and I’m going to go find that girl, somehow.”

“Good luck. Goodbye and go get her.  Oh, and safe travels back to Ohio.” The two men exchanged a quick hug, Ian drained the dregs left in his glass and he left.

It had been more than an hour and a half since they’d met so Ian figured Jess would have long since finished her meal and left the hostel.  She did provide a clue as to where she might go; it was her first day in Paris.  Ian headed to the nearest Metro station.

Predictably, the line to go up the Eiffel Tower was unbelievably long.  Ian hoped that his luck would hold out and Jess would still be in the queue.  He gave up his pretense of being nonchalant and actively searched through the throng of tourists, hoping to see a familiar face.  He made it to the front of the line and then searched through the figures buying tickets at the kiosk.  Maybe she’d bought a ticket online.  Maybe he guessed wrong, she didn’t come here first and is at the Notre Dame.  Maybe he was being foolish to chase after this girl. He stepped back and strained to see behind the ticket booth to the line of people waiting for the elevator.  And there she was, stepping inside with the door closing.  He called her name but of course with the crowd and the distance, she didn’t hear him.  He threw his head back and dropped his arms to his sides.  There was no way he was going to make it through that line in time.

A twelve-year-old boy tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the front of the line. “I think your parents are over there”.

“Oh, there you are, Charlie.  Hurry up! We’ve been waiting for you! Charlie, over here.” A mature couple almost at the ticket booth were gesturing and waving to him.  Ian looked over at the commotion and the woman’s eyes lit up, “Come on!” Ian’s eyebrows furrowed but the tourists around him made room.  He maneuvered his way over.  The woman dropped her voice low and said, “I saw what just happened. You must have missed your friend.  Come join us; we’ll get you in.”

“I can’t thank you enough!” Ian hugged her and shook the man’s hand. “I really appreciate this!” Their turn came and the man paid for 3 tickets to the top.  Ian tried to pay but the couple wouldn’t hear of it. “Pay it forward. That’s all we ask.” They made their way to the elevator and crowded in with the other sampling of international visitors.  As the elevator doors opened on the 2^nd floor, Ian issued one more thank you and continued his quest. 

He checked the queue for the elevator to the 3^rd floor but she wasn’t there.  He headed to the viewing platform and planned on walking along all 4 sides but he didn’t have to.  Jess was leaning against the railing, taking in the cityscape.

He stepped up to the railing right next to her, leaned over and said “Hi.”

Jess did a double take, her eyes wide and she stepped back. “Ian! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed.

“Well, to be honest, I came looking for you.”

“What? How in the world did you know how to find me?” Jess shook her head.

“You said you just arrived in Paris and most people, well, a lot of people, some people, OK, me, I came to the Eiffel Tower first thing.  I was hoping you would too. And I knew the line was long so I took a chance that you would just be making it to the top now.”

Jess checked out the tall young man in the green polo and khaki pants. “I can’t believe you came here to see me. You’re not a stalker, are you?”

“No, I’m not, really, I’m not.” He breathed audibly.  “This is my last night in Paris.  I fly out to Cleveland in the morning.”

“Cleveland, as in the home of rock and roll?”

“Have you been?”

“No, I never have but I’d like to one day.”

“If you ever come, I’ll be your personal tour guide; show you all the sites.” Jess reached down for her shirt, untied it from her waist and put it on. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“I hope you will.” 

Jess smiled and moved away from the rail. “I have a ticket to the top. Do you?” At his affirmation, she said, “OK, let’s go get in line. I’m sorry about your notebook.  What kind of art are you into?”

“Architecture. I just got my degree.”

“That’s impressive. Oh God, this has got to be the best place to study.  How long were you here for?” The line moved forward as an elevator arrived, discharged its load and swallowed a fresh batch of tourists.

“A semester. We spent a couple of weekends in London and Rome as part of the course as well.  It was awesome.”

“I’ll bet.”

“And you, what brings you to Paris?” Ian asked.

“Oh, uh, just travelling.”

“Ah, come on, I told you my small talk story.  It’s your turn to play the game.”  

“There’s not a whole lot to tell.  I graduated in December with an English degree from UC Berkley.  That’s not exactly a trade.  It’s not like I can go out and ‘English’ someplace.  So, I decided to take my gap year as the Europeans call it.  I bought a backpack and headed out.  Visited the National Parks out west, hit Chicago, skipped Cleveland,” she gave him a lop-sided grin. “Went to Philadelphia and New York.  I may go back to New York; a friend of a friend of a friend offered me a couch to rent.” She enumerated with her fingers. “Reykjavik, Dublin, London and now I’m here.” She put both hands behind her and grabbed the rope divider for the queue.

“And next?”

“Tomorrow I’m on a train to the Riviera.  I’ve got a friend who has a villa just outside of Marseille for a week.  After that, I don’t know. Maybe stay south in sunny, Italy. I’d like to see Florence and Venice. Greece.  Or maybe I’ll backtrack and go to Germany, Munich, Berlin, Vienna, Prague.  I can’t decide. I can’t do everything; the money’s going to run out sooner than later, no matter how carefully I watch my euros.” The elevator arrived again this time swallowing Jess and Ian in its maw.  They watched the city recede as they rose.

“Wait, you’re leaving tomorrow?”

“Yeah, right? I was going to stay longer in Paris but this opportunity came up. My friend from college, Jill, her family has this place so it’s rent free for a week on the beach.  Can’t pass that up.”

“So, tonight’s your only night here.”  The elevator jerked to a stop.  Carried along by the crowd, they found themselves jockeying for a space at the railing. 

“Wow.” Jess pointed her phone in several directions.  She took a couple steps back to include Ian in her photos.  She glanced at her watch and started walking around. “So, um, I hope you don’t mind but I want to see as much of the city as I can before noon tomorrow.  I know it sounds terribly touristy but I figure I can get to the Arc de Triomphe, Champs-Élysées and the Notre Dame before the metro closes.  Then walk to the Louvre, Opera Garnier and eventually back to the hostel. You don’t have to come with me but that’s my plan.”

“Sheez, don’t you think that’s a bit, um, ambitious for one night?”

“Maybe it is and I won’t do everything but I want to try, you know? I want to experience everything I can because that’s what life is all about.  Experiences. I don’t want my life to be about watching tv or I don’t know, other mindless crap. When I’m old and gray, I want to be sitting in my rocking chair in the nursing home looking back and remembering everything.  I want to remember writing the great American novel and spectacular waterfalls and medieval castles and Philly sub sandwiches and standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower with a good-looking guy.”

Ian smiled and tried to hide his face.

“What do you want to remember, when you’re old and gray and toothless?” she asked.

“Me? Well, I want to remember designing spaces and homes, um, Winged Victory at Samothrace, fish and chips at the Peahen Pub in London with my mates and standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower with a cute girl.”

“Oh, you just said that because I did.”

“Yeah and because it’s true.”

“Come on, let’s go.” She reached for his hand and they headed for the elevator. 

Once down on terra firma, they made their way to the Bir-Hakeim metro station. They slipped their tickets in the machine and headed up the stairs to the crowded platform. The approaching train was also jam-packed but when the doors opened, Ian crammed in pulling Jess in behind him as the red light flashed and the buzzer sounded announcing the doors were closing.  Just then someone on the platform yanked hard on Jess’ cross body bag and pulled her out of the car.  The door closed with Ian still inside and the train left on its northward journey. Jess looked around but did not see who had accosted her, her assailant having disappeared.  She examined her bag and found a fresh knife cut but the steel cable in the strap foiled the attempted robbery.  She stood there and realized she had no way to contact Ian.  They had not exchanged phone numbers.  As a little girl, her mother had always admonished her that if she got lost, she was to stay put until her mom came to find her.  But she wasn’t lost and she was no longer a little girl.  She could wait to see if he came back, but what if he didn’t and how long should she wait. The overhead sign said the next train would arrive in three minutes. What if he decided to take this opportunity to ditch her?  She hoped not; she liked him. Two minutes.  If the situation was reversed, what would she do?

What if she was hurt?  She was OK, Ian told himself.  He could see through the window that Jess had been the target of petty thieves.  Thieves were only about credit cards and euros.  He was fairly certain she was not physically hurt. He got off at the next stop.  Maybe he should have stayed on until the Charles de Gaulle – Etoile station.  No, he would wait here for the next train.  But what if she was waiting for him to come back? Should he run over to the opposite platform?  He paced to relieve the nervous energy that filled him to help him make a decision. Lights filled the tunnel.  He watched the cars fill the station, slowing down.  The doors opened and there she was.  Without a thought, he wrapped her in his arms, kissed her quickly and hugged her tight. She reached her arms around his neck and said, “I thought I’d lost you.”

“No, I’m here.” He released her. “Let’s not do that again,” and they both got out their phones. “Are you OK?” he said.

“No real damage done.” She showed him the knife wound to the faux leather. “Expensive pick-pocket-proof purse. Money well spent. Well, my mother’s money well spent. I’m just rattled about being yanked from the train. But I’m OK. I am glad you’re here though.  Makes me feel better.”

“Let’s get a drink somewhere.” Ian put his arm around her as they exited the station. They sat down at a table at Le Passy and ordered wine.

“Rome wasn’t on my itinerary precisely because I heard the pick-pockets there are relentless. But now I’ve got a story to tell.  And I’m all about telling stories. Fodder for my writing.”

“What are you writing?”

“Well, right now I write blog entries about my travels for my ten followers and maybe someday, if I get enough material together, I’ll convert it to a book to sell for no-one to read. I don’t know. I have that dreaded writer’s disease, procrastination.  It’s crippling. I don’t recommend it. One star.  And you, what is your passion?”

“Passion? I really haven’t thought about passion.  I’m good at designing places and my father is an architect.  I just always thought I would follow in the family business, you know.”

“There’s more to it than that or you wouldn’t be here.  You didn’t have to come to Paris to study.  You could have stayed in Ohio.  What brought you here?” She picked up her Moscato and sipped.

 “I kind of felt like this is my last opportunity to be free, I guess.  After this, my life is all planned out.  I’ll do my internship and then work in the family firm. Get married, settle down, work for 40 years, retire.  I thought, studying abroad, I could do what I want, do something different, not just what is expected of me. I took a life drawing class. Nude models.” He leaned in. “Don’t tell my mother. I do like what I do and I’m good at it.  I’m looking forward to making a difference, an impact.  I doubt I’ll ever get my name on a building like Hector Guimard or be famous like I.M. Pei but someone will walk into a house I designed someday and it will be exactly what they want and that will be cool.”  

“I’m sure it will be.  That’s great, to have a plan, know where you are going. I don’t have anything planned after next weekend.  Like for the rest of my life, no plans.  I figure that something’s going to turn up, like a signal flare, that says ‘OK, This, this is what you need to do.’ I’ve been looking for that flare for 6 months now. Black skies so far. Oh, I can go back to the states, find a job in insurance or retail, anything to pay bills, get stuck in a rut, live my life in a hamster wheel, never going anywhere.  There’s got to be another option.” She drained her glass. “That’s depressing and I don’t want to think about it. Instead, I’m going to gather up a lifetime of experiences until my money runs out.”

“What about your family? Can’t they help you?”

“You know what? Time’s slipping away and I haven’t seen the Arc de Triomphe yet.  Are you coming?” She stood up.

“You don’t want to talk about your family.”

“I don’t want to talk about my family.”

“OK, I get it.” They paid the bill and went back to the metro station.  He interlocked his fingers with hers and pulled her arm in close to his body. “Let’s not get separated this time.”

They visited the Arc de Triomph, walked down the Champs-Élysées. Another metro ride and they were on the Île de la Cité, standing in front of the Notre Dame Cathedral with their feet on the Paris Point Zero marker.  Most of the tourists had gone as the Cathedral had closed its doors for the night, although there were still a few milling about.

“There is a tradition that if you spin around on one foot on this marker, you will be granted your heart’s desire,” Ian told her.

“Oh, you made that up.”

“No, it’s true.  Well, I read it on Atlas Obscura. Wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”

She lightly pushed him aside and spun. “So, when do I get my wish?”

“The instructions are a bit vague on that point, I’m afraid.”

She stepped off and said, “Your turn.” He dutifully obeyed her command putting his fingers on the top of his head during his pirouette. Jess laughed.

“There’s another custom. It can act like a wishing well.” Ian said.

“You mean like coins in a fountain?”

“Yes.” He pulled out a couple of euro pennies and handed her one.  They both dropped the coins. 

“When do I get this wish?”

“Again, unclear.  But there is one more tradition I think we ought to do.”

“More wish fulfilment?”

“Sort of.” He stepped forward back onto the marker, pulled her forward and brushed the hair out of her eyes. He cupped her face with both of his hands and kissed her gently. She wrapped her arms around his torso and returned the caress.

“I like this tradition,” said Jess. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a few others not so patiently waiting their turn to make wishes. “We should go.” Arm in arm, they meandered westward in the direction of the Louvre. “I wish I’d met you earlier.  When is your flight tomorrow, wait,” she glanced at her watch, “It’s already tomorrow, today.”

“I have a cab coming for me at 6.”

“As in AM? As in a few hours from now?” Jess stopped in her tracks.

“Yes.”

“We should get back then.  Do you have to pack still?”

“It doesn’t matter.  I’m where I want to be right now.” He hugged her closer as they walked. They arrived at the Cour Napoléon courtyard, dazzlingly lit up against the night sky. 

“Did you know I.M. Pei is still alive.  He’s 101.” Ian said.

“Would that I live to be that old.  Actually, I’m shooting for my eleventy-first birthday.  That’s the goal.”

“What?”

“You need to read The Hobbit,” she said.

“OK, given. But how old is, whatever you said?”

Jess answered, “Eleventy-first.  One hundred eleven. Do-able.” They sat down next to one of the reflecting pools by the glass pyramid. “The oldest person ever was 122 years old when she died. I wrote a short story and looked it up. I think it would be both exciting and sad, to see so much technological and social advances but to also say goodbye to so many people in such a long life.” Jess yawned.

“Now, see what you did.” Ian yawned in response. “You’re going to have to quit that.”

“Well, I have been up for,” she looked at her watch and counted out on her fingers, “something like 20 hours. Can’t believe I was in London in the rain this morning, yesterday morning and now I’m here. With you.” She nudged him with her shoulder.  He moved her from her shoulder and kissed her neck. She turned to face him and they were quiet for several minutes. Reluctantly, she slid out of his embrace and stood up.  “We really should be heading back.  Uncle Google says it will be about 45 minutes to the hostel. And you do have a cab to catch.”

“You trying to get rid of me?” Ian said, still sitting.

“No, no,” she insisted. “No. I just don’t want to be the reason you’ve missed your flight.”

“There are other flights,” he said. “But, you’re right. I do have an interview tomorrow. My father would kill me if I screwed it up. He called in a few favors to get it.” Jess reached for his hands and pulled him up.

“Come on, we don’t want to piss off your dad.” She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as they headed north towards the hostel.

“You are trying to get rid of me,” he said, not joking this time.

She looked at her feet.  “I’m not.  I’m…” she paused.

“What is it?”

She shook her head.  “It’s nothing…just…”

He stopped walking and looked into her face. “Tell me.”

               “It will be easier,” she said in a rush.

               “What will be easier?”

               “To say goodbye. But let’s not think about that right now. I think we turn here.” She turned away from him but reached behind to take his hand in hers.  Together they walked in the now silent streets.

               They arrived at the hostel with just enough time for Ian to finish throwing his belongings in the duffel bag to catch his ride to the airport.

               “So, here we are.”

               “Goodbye,” Jess said in a tone too bright. She took his hand and grabbed his wrist with the other for a firm handshake. “It was very nice to meet you. Have a safe flight.” She tried to release his hand to make a quick get away but he held on and gently pulled her in.

“Jess.”

               “No, no, no.” She wiggled her finger of her free hand. “A quick goodbye.  Clean break.  That’s the best way to end this,” Jess continued, her voice breaking.

               Ian silenced her protest with his lips.  Her arms, of their own volition, wrapped around his neck as she pressed her body against his. “We don’t have to end this,” he whispered in her ear.

               “Don’t, don’t do this.” She stepped away from him but he held onto her. “You have to go your way and I’m going mine. I meant it when I said goodbye.  You have your life ahead of you planned out and this, this was just a pleasant interlude for one night and one night only. I wish you joy and much love but you must go.”

               She turned her head before the tears spilled over and went inside the hostel.

Ian stood still for a moment wondering what had just happened. He checked his phone for the time, ran into the hostel, took the stairs two at a time but she wasn’t in sight. He hurriedly threw his things in his bag and made it outside just as the taxi was pulling up. He looked at the cab and wondered if this was the right choice to make.  She was travelling to the south of France at noon.  He didn’t have to take the cab to the airport.  He could go to the train station instead and wait for her.  But he wanted to be an architect, had been studying for years for this moment, with this goal in mind. He couldn’t be this easily swayed by this young woman.  But she wasn’t just some one. The cabbie asked him if he was getting in.  He did and told the driver to take him to where his future awaited.