Paris - Chapter Six
Flashback continues 1996- early 1998
Naturally, JC was true to his word. Two days following
the dinner at Pepe’s, a letter arrived. It was
addressed to Annie in JC’s scrawling hand, so she
immediately tore open the envelope. The letter stated
that the guys were in Stockholm and were soon headed
towards Germany. After the travel plans, dozens of
questions littered the page. After reading them all,
she shook her head and smiled, then started to work on
her reply.
Dear Josh,
I received your letter today. Although it sounds more
like a job application, I will try to answer the
questions as best I can. To avoid confusion, I’ll put
titles before each answer.
Birthday: 17 July 1975 (which makes me - 21)
Birthplace: Nashville, Tennessee
Parents: William John and Marie Christina O’Reilly.
How they met and what they do: Daddy is an engine
builder for NASCAR (more specifically, Darrell
Waltrip’s team). Mom is a writer and illustrator of
children’s books. They first met at a college dance.
To make a long story short at the risk of making it
cliched, it was love at first sight. However, seeing
how Mom is Cuban and Daddy is Irish, it took a while
longer for the families to accept it. Eventually love
won out and they got married after which they moved to
Tennessee where they’re still living today.
Brothers & sisters: I have none. I’m a spoiled rotten
only child. Only kidding??
School: I went to public school for awhile, but it was
hard with Daddy on the road so often and such.
Eventually they just started home-schooling me
instead, so I managed to finish in record time. I then
went to the University of Tennessee, where I got a
scholarship my senior year to study in Paris. The
school extended it to cover the first year of my
Master’s degree, but eventually funds ran out and,
naturally, I had to get a job. It covers my tuition
and books, so there’s no worry about that. Currently,
I’m working on getting a Master’s in Fine Arts. I have
always loved to paint and have been told that I have
the unique ability to capture the inner person. That I
can see someone as they really are (not "twilight
zone" kind of see, more like insight.) But lately,
I’ve been drawn to sculpting. I’m not exactly sure
why, so I’m taking a few classes, to see where it
leads.
Pets: I had a dog while growing up. He was a Sheltie
named "Champ" and was my constant companion all
throughout my childhood until I graduated from high
school. Then he got really sick and we had to take him
to the vet to be put down. I remember the look he gave
me as he fell asleep. It seemed like he was saying
"Thank you." I loved him dearly. At my flat here in
Paris, I have a black cat named "Rosemarie". She got
her name because when I brought her home, the Simon
and Garfunkel song "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme"
was playing on the radio.
Languages: Ahh, not looking forward to any more
surprises? Just kidding I speak five – English
(obviously), French (also obviously), German, Italian
and Spanish.
Claude and Jacques: Jacques and I were in a class
together. He brought me home to have dinner one night.
Which was where I met Claude. I started going once a
week and now have dinner or some other meal there at
least once a day. I also try and help Claude out in
the shop when Jacques has classes.
God: I believe strongly that there is one and have
committed myself to Him.
The letter continued on in a similar manner for nearly
12 pages. Finally, she realized that she’d better
stop, or at least get a publishing deal for her
autobiography before it was too late.
JC, it is going to cost me a fortune to mail this
"novel" to you. I anxiously await your next letter.
Love,
Annie
Whenever he had a day off, and was close to Paris, JC
would come to visit. Of course, this wasn’t very
often, so they treasured the time they got to spend
together.
One rainy afternoon JC showed up at her door with
flowers and a poem he had written. Just as he went to
knock on her door, he felt as if someone was staring
at him from behind. He turned to see a young woman
standing at the flat door near Annie’s.
She was what could safely considered the French
version of a true Goth. Her black hair was very, very
long and shiny, with streaks of blue dye here and
there. She was dressed entirely in black, her skirt
flowing to the floor and swirling around her feet like
a dark cloud. Her dark eyes seemed almost sinister
with all the mascara and eye shadow she wore on them,
matching her black lipstick but contrasting harshly
with her pale skin. A silver ankh hung from a chain
around her neck, the only accessories she wore.
She eyed him as she took a puff from a clove
cigarette, lightly playing with a piece of her hair.
"You, Annie’s lover?"
JC was positive he’d heard her wrong. "Excuse me?"
She smiled in a truly ghastly manner. I’ll slow it
down for you. "I said are….. you….. Annie’s….. lover?"
Okay, so he’d been right. "No, just a friend."
This seemed to cheer the Goth up, if such a thing is
possible. "So, you’re free?"
JC felt like he was missing something very important.
No, I’m Annie’s friend."
Luckily for JC, Annie chose that particular moment to
open her door.
He turned to her, a smile of relief spreading across
his face. "Thank you, I’m saved."
She gave him a confused look that strangely conveyed
exactly what JC was feeling at that particular moment.
"What’s going on here?"
An embarrassed look came over his face. "She keeps
asking me if I am your lover?" He whispered.
Annie rolled her eyes, letting out a half
–exasperated, half-pitiful sigh, then turned to the
woman. "Babette, I would like to introduce to you my
dear FRIEND Josh. Josh – Babette."
JC extended his hand and shook hers, trying to avoid
getting stabbed with her long fingernails without
appearing to do so. This close to her, he could smell
not only the cigarette, but also the excessive smell
of incense. After what he felt was a polite period of
time to shake, JC tried to retrieve his hand. Babette
refused to let go and the harder he tried to pull
away, the tighter her grip became.
Finally, Annie intervened and pried the two of them
apart. Still holding the Goth’s hand by the back, she
looked her in the eye. "Babette, I think it is time
for us to go. Maybe we can visit another day?"
Babette ripped her hand away, staring at Annie coldly,
then slowly backed into her flat before slamming the
door shut in a final statement to the world.
Annie sighed, then led JC inside her own flat. Once
the door was safely closed behind them he turned to
her. "Who and what was that?"
"That was Babette. She’s fairly harmless. She’s more
of a danger to herself than others." Annie sighed.
"She was involved in a very BAD relationship. He was
physically and emotionally abusive to her, which is
when she started wearing all the black clothes and
make-up; to hide the bruises. About 6 months ago, they
had a huge fight and the police were called in. When
they took him away to prison, I guess something inside
of her just snapped. From what I understand, she used
to be a very talented artist herself at one point. Now
all she does is spend most of her days in her flat –
painting pictures that no one ever sees and crying. I
think she still has some hope though, since she flirts
with Jacques every time he shows up."
JC shook his head. "That’s so tragic."
"I know – but in many ways it’s just another romantic
Paris tragedy. I live in the "perfect Paris loft"
complete with a crazy woman down the hall." She
glanced at him, suddenly ashamed. "Sorry. I don’t mean
to make light of it, but sometimes, after you’ve seen
the same thing so often, you just kind of grow numb to
it. Lately, she has been a bit more delusional. I may
have to report her, for her own good." Annie shook
herself from the line of unpleasant thoughts, then
smiled at him warmly. "So, how have you been?"
"Good" A devilish little grin spread across his face.
"I’ll even show you." He stepped forward and pulled
her close, then dipped her a little bit and kissed
her. After letting her up, he handed the flowers to
her. "These are for you."
She took them from him. "They’re lovely. Let me put
them in water."
While Annie was hunting for a vase, JC finally had
time to take a look at her flat. The front door opened
into her living room, the majority of which was on his
left. Annie had gone towards the right, which was
where the kitchen was. The walls throughout the entire
flat were white, with a beige floor runner going all
along the edges. The carpet was also beige and spread
in every room except the kitchen and bathroom, both of
which had beige and white patterned tiles. He realized
that the color scheme, while maybe a little on the
boring side, did make the room feel light and airy, a
good atmosphere for an artist. Her furniture was an
eclectic mix of European styles, obviously whatever
she had been able to find. Not everything matched
perfectly (some things didn’t match at all) but it was
still pretty to look at.
But the walls. JC found himself amazed and completely
engrossed by the walls. Obviously, several artists had
lived there before, because there were paintings and
drawings all over the walls. Fortunately, whoever had
moved in after the first one had decided to keep up
some sort of order, because each room seemed to have a
theme. The living room had various types of animals
scattered around, while the kitchen (where Annie was
still searching in vain for a vase) had multiple
scenarios. The hallway, the door of which was at the
wall opposite the front door, was filled with doodles
and sketches.
JC passed by the first door on his right, which was
closed. He’d get it on his way back. Poking his head
into the bathroom, first door on the left, he was not
disappointed to see a variety of water paintings. The
second (and last) door on the left was Annie’s
bedroom. It surprised him, because the walls had a
menagerie of abstract works scattered so close
together, it was sometimes hard to see where one
stopped and the next began. He was about to enter, but
then thought of what it would look like if Annie found
him there. Not only, would it be a little rude, it
would also be seriously embarrassing. Going back
towards the living room, JC poked his head into the
room he’d previously passed up. What he saw in there
so captivated him that he found himself being pulled
inside to see more.
This was quite obviously Annie’s art room. It was
bigger than her bedroom and seemed to stand out more
than any other room in her flat. It wasn’t due to the
walls. The ones in here were completely blank,
absolutely nothing on them whatsoever. A huge loft
window with a rounded top faced the street, pouring
natural light into the room. It had its own window
seat, upon which a little black cat was currently
lying, staring down at the cars below. But this wasn’t
what had captured his attention so completely.
That honor belonged to her paintings. Every single one
he could see was of him. They were done in multiple
styles and some of them looked a little creepy, but
there was no doubt as to the identity of the man in
each one, it was him. He must have been standing there
in dumbfounded amazement for a while, because he
didn’t even notice Annie until she was right next to
him.
She smiled at him. "So what do you think?’
"I’m speechless, he managed to say. What is all this?"
"I was experimenting with a new type of paint and,
since you are a subject I love to use, l did."
JC studied a Picasso rendition of his face. "Do I
really look like this?"
Annie giggled. "Well you know, you do have a classic
face in the Greek sense, but your nose is a little too
big for your face."
He stuck his tongue out at her. "Thanks a lot, I’m
crushed."
She put a hand under her chin as she stared at him in
thought. "You know, I was thinking if you let your
hair grow a bit longer-"
"It curls."
"It would soften your features. And who knows; maybe
you still have time to grow into your face."
"Okay, enough already!" JC shook his head. "I didn’t
come here to have my face critiqued."
"Alright then." Annie folded her arms over her chest.
"What did you come here for?"
He grinned wickedly as he walked over to her. "This."
And he kissed her again.
When the kiss ended, Annie smiled. "Nice appetizer.
How about lunch?"
"Sounds like a plan to me."
They walked into the living room where Annie had a
tablecloth spread out on the floor. They had been
planning to go on a picnic so naturally it was pouring
– typical Paris weather. Not to be discouraged, they
sat down and ate the lunch safely inside. Afterwards,
JC read her the poem he’d written and brought with
him. It made her cry.
Later on, JC was lying with his head on Annie’s lap as
she was feeding him grapes. He reached up and drew her
down to him, kissing her gently at first, but then
with more passion. His hand, almost of its own accord,
went straight to her blouse and began undoing the
buttons.
Annie grabbed that hand right where it was. "Hold it
right there." She straightened up, letting go of his
hand. "We made a promise, remember?"
JC gave her a hurt look. "I know, but I just want to
look. He gave her his best puppy-dog look. "I promise
I won’t touch."
"No way, although you get kudos for the big eyes. It’s
not really you, but myself I don’t trust. And you know
how much I hate it when people break promises."
"Yeah" he muttered dejectedly, playing with the
tablecloth.
"I know it seems silly but I made a vow that I
wouldn’t have sex till I was married. Most people
probably think I’m insane, or at least horribly
old-fashioned, but it’s a gift I’m going to give to
the person I love. I can only give it once, and I
don’t want to make a mistake." She laughed a little to
take some of the sting out of her words. "Besides, I’m
pretty sure something like virginity has a no-return
policy."
JC looked up from the floor and smiled back. "I’m
sorry. I agree with you, it‘s just that sometimes I
get carried away." His smile grew a little wider.
"Imagine how much some people would laugh if they knew
I made that same vow and for the same reason."
Annie messed up his hair a little. "You’re so sweet.
Now let’s think of something more productive to do."
She seemed lost in thought for a brief moment, and
then her eyes lit up. "I know, we can listen to the
music Claude sent over."
She lithely jumped to her feet and got the CD from the
kitchen where she’d placed it on the table. Coming
back, she popped it into the stereo,
As she was getting ready, she turned to him. "This is
music that Claude and Marie liked to listen and dance
to. Jacques had a friend burn the CD for him."
She went over and took his hands, pulling him to his
feet. "Now, here’s what I want you to do." She led him
over to the couch, which was by the stereo. "I want
you to sit on the sofa and close your eyes. You can’t
open them until the song is over, but I want you to
just sit still and listen. Be warned in advance, it’s
an Italian aria."
"But I won’t understand it!" JC protested, even as he
sat there with his eyes closed.
"Yes you will. Just listen to the words, phrasing and
the emotion with which the singer is singing. You’ll
get it."
Annie started the music, then sat cross-legged next to
him. She studied his face and saw that indeed, he did
understand. He knew – even if he didn’t fully
understand. When it was over, she leaned close to him.
"I’m going to play it again." She spoke quietly. But
this time, I’ll whisper the translation in your ear."
As the song played a second time and she interpreted,
she also kept studying JC’s face. A look of amazement
came over his face. When the song was over again, he
opened his eyes and looked at her. "You were right. I
could understand."
"I know." She touched his face. "You have an artist’s
soul."
They were both quiet for a while, then JC cleared his
throat. "Annie?"
"Yes?"
"We’re leaving for a Far East and African tour in a
week or so. I won’t be able to see you for a long
time." He looked deep into her eyes. "I’m going to
miss you so much."
Annie shook her head and rubbed the back of his neck.
"We both knew this day would come. If it’s meant to
be, it’ll work out alright. I’m just so happy that
things are finally starting to click for you." She
smiled and put a finger to his lips. "And before you
even say it, I think the idea of you giving it up to
stay here with me is stupid. I know I couldn’t live a
life full of "what ifs" or should haves." She studied
his face. "I don’t think you could either."
JC stared at her in amazement. "How did you get to be
so wise?"
Annie grinned. "That would be Claude’s doing."
They spent the rest of the day wrapped in each other’s
arms, listening to the music. When it was time to go,
she walked him to the door. As they kissed in the
hallway, JC promised that he’d be back next week for a
final, but by no means permanent, goodbye. Then he
leaned over and whispered that when they made love for
the first time, it would be to that CD.
As they finished their good-byes, neither one saw
Babette listening from her cracked-open flat door. Nor
the shadowy figure behind her, watching the scene with
a clenched fist and tears streaming to the floor.
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