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R
oom service sir!”
Mmmm... What’s going on there...?
I try to stand up. I hear the door opens. I finally managed to stretch and turn my head while I open one eye to see what’s going on. I see Jorge walking to my bed with a breakfast tray wearing socks, jeans and a considerably tied gray shirt. I feel like eating those abs that are visible through the shirt... How would he be under his clothes? At this hour of the day my thoughts are more similar to Paula’s thought than mine. No, definitely is my eyes’ fault, it makes my brain blow after the vision of Jorge dressing so informal and bringing my breakfast to bed. Wait... I am not dreaming, am I?
“Take a seat; let’s have breakfast” says the protagonist of my dreams as he gets close to my bed “Come on, give me some space.”
I move as good as I can and he sits next to me while he grabs a french toast and spreads some butter on it.
“Do you like strawberry?” he asks looking at me.
“What?”
“The marmalade, do you like strawberry marmalade?” he repeats in a patiente gesture while I still try to restart my brain.
“That is my favorite flavor” I explain, yawing.
I incorporate sitting over the bed and rubbing my face. But, what happened yesterday? What is he doing in my room so informally dressed and delivering me French toasts? Jorge seems relaxed; he behaves like this is something regular by passing me the toasts already fulfilled.
“Take, eat some” and he also gives me a cup of tea “and drink a little, go ahead, don’t worry, this is not absenthe...”
He is serious, is he mad? I hope I behaved last night. Please, I hope I behaved... Wy should I drink anything? I am not a child anymore. I am not used to this and even less when I dinner so little...
“Jorge... yesterday...” I am not sure if I want to know. If something happened and I can’t remember, I would not forgive myself.
He releases the cup of tea he was drinking and he turns to look at me.
“Tell me.”
“What... what are you doing here dressing this way at this hour... and ordering the breakfast to room service...
“Well, I imagine you wouldn’t be able to walk until the buffet to have breakfast so, I called to room service. And dressing this way... you wouldn’t pretend for me to sleep with t-shirt and shoes right?
“Sleep...” I have a knot in my stomach right now “Sleeping after...”
Jorge left his breakfast on the tray and looks at me, I think in a bad mood.
“Laura, you surprise me some times” he still remains serious but, now he frowns his forehead “Yesterday, the absenthe did not do well to you so I brought you to your room. I stood there in case you felt bad during the night” and he points at a couch in front with sleeping sheets, yet.
“Oh...” that’s the only thing I answered.
So relief...
“Oh?”
“I thought that...”
“You thought that I took advantage of your status to have sex with you?
“No, no! I thought that maybe I did something to make you believe that you were not taking advantage of me and...”
“That is a very complicated thought considering you should have a hangover...” I finally see a slightly smile in his mouth as he sips his tea again “Come on, finish your breakfast, we have to get ready to go to St. Pancras to take the Eurostar at noon.”
He sips at his tea for the last time. He comes close to me, grabs my head and kisses me in my forehead, standing up after that and wearing his t-shirt and shoes.
And this?
“Jorge, are you serious nothing happened... at all?”
He turns back to look at me. Well, to stick his gaze actually.
“I would never do such a thing, Laura. I think I made clear I respect you in spite of everything.”
He approaches to me as soon as he finishes dressing. He passes his hand over my hair putting away a lack of hair that runs over my left cheek and places it behind my ear; next, he left his hand over my cheek and cares it with his thumb.
He kisses me. He kisses me now. He will kiss me, I’m sure he will...
“And now get ready and I’ll come by to look after you in half an hour, we are leaving.”
Shit...
He leaves the room and I see my watch. It’s eleven in the morning but, I feel its six a.m. as consequence of how exhausted I am. I fall over the bed again before manage to stand up.
And today we go to Paris.
And Jorge doesn’t kiss me yet...
We arrived at Gare du Nord of Paris at five in the afternoon. It is a lovely day. And to me lovely means cold and cloudy although, Paris’ lights are different from the rest of the world as it seems someone built a pinkish filter over this city. Whereas rains or make cold, or it had an embraced hot weather, Paris seems to be under a constant cherry blossom tone.
I was crazy about coming back to Montmartre, to the Shakespeare & Co, to Quartier Latin... Come back to watch the Seinne and walk along its border and, listen to somebody play an accordion at some of Paris’ bridges and get the melody stuck in my head for the rest of the day. It is like walking through those stoned streets and become uncapable to contain tears of joy.
Being in Paris means to enter in a temporary bubble. To me, we are in the twenties; to others might be the Belle Époque. But I, unvaryingly go behind the steps of my Hem, from Fitzgerald, from the Stein and for so many I would do anything to be able to meet them. That might be the reason why I am forced to visit the stair of St. Etienne du Mont, in front of the Pantheon, since years backwards; Woody Allen created a truly wonder on Midnight in Paris. Who knows, maybe some day at twelve by night, an ancient car comes by and transport me into past epochs. However, I feel the same when I am in London; I keep searching for elder blue police cabins and, I still haven’t found the one I am looking for...
Jorge made the reservation in the Plaza Athenee hotel, in Montaigne Avenue, from 8th arrondissement. It is undescribable. Discrete by outside but, romantic inside. Hotels in London are always bleaker; they are elegant in a different style. But in Paris, elegance is worthed to admire.
We got inside the hall through the rotating doors following to the bellboy who came out to receive our luggage. Red and beige tones in the lobby with columns and chandeliers hanging from this immensely high roof. Circular shapes on stairs, roof, furniture... Everything has a romantic shape.
Jorge handles the registration forms; I managed French only in basic therms and I notice he also speaks French. Tree languages, do the math and go on... When he finishes, he grabbed my hand and we went up to the rooms.
Holding my hand, something I find difficult to get use to.
“Come, I want to show you something” he says enthusiastic, going inside of my supposed room.
I followed him. Of course I followed him. Jorge gave a tip to the bellboy, who left the room leaving us alone.
“Over here, come” and suddenly, he stopped “Wait, close your eyes!”
“But, what happens?”
“Close your eyes, Lau” and he covered my eyes with his hand.
He directs me in a gentle manner few steps beyond. I listen to him moving what I believe are some curtains and opens what I think is a door.
“Beware... Now. Open your eyes” he says uncovering them.
When I see that, I placed my hands over my mouth. I can’t say a word. There it is, in front of us, le Tour Eiffel. A room with the Eiffel tower landscape! I remember now, I have seen this hotel in a documentary of street travelers. A massive display of resources Jorge has done in this travel... With a two stars hotel I would trusth him as well.
All this dazzles me and takes my breath away. Speechless, although in this moment it seems to be careless as he is admiring the beautiful views of the city as well.
“Do you like it?” he asks staring at the landscape “I love this hotel; this is worthed to visit just with the view, isn’t it?”
I laugh out loud, from joy and agitation; emotions are collapsing my brain and laugh is the only media I find out to loose tension in this moment.
“You are completely insane!”
“Insane about you, mademoiselle...” and he grabs my hand to kiss it with delicacy.
“Jorge, this is too much, is... I have no words!”
“A journalist who keeps without words in front of a lawyer?” and he holds me on my waist “I feel flowered.”
“You should, it never happens to me, only happens with you.”
Jorge doesn’t stop smiling. I carry an enormous smile in my lips since previous minutes. As soon as I am between his arms, my heart beats faster for his proximity. He is so close that...
“Would you like to walk in Paris by night?” he asks.
And I get excitated just to think about it. Paris by night, giving a walk with Jorge along this precious city...
I am sure I have had a similar dream in some occasion and I am living it now. To say that I am having some luck is not fare enough.
“Shall we approach to admire the Tour Eiffel lighting over the Alexandre the III?” I suggest enthusiastic, jumping a very little without scaping from his arms.
Jorge laughs as he sees my childish enthusiasm and he enchanted agrees.
We walked there; it is only few minutes away. We are walking along the Siene border until we went up to the bridge. There are some couples walking around in spite of cold. Paris is Paris at any season of the year.
Lighting has no started yet. Jorge watches me shiver from cold and takes his big coat to covers me over my shoulders and huged me from behind. And I realize I never felt so happy and so safe in my entire life.
“Cold?” he asks me in my ear from my back.
“A little but, this is worthed.”
“I know” and I feel some smile at his voice.
“And we still have four more days; these are the best vacations I can recall!”
“I am glad, Lau.”
Once more, that tender moniker I love so much to hear.
“I like when you call me Lau. I still feel funny when you call me this way” and I look backward to be able to see his face.
He turns me back again and places me in front of him while he keeps hugging me.
“But, why do you like so much to be called this way? I have heard plenty of people calling you the same way.”
“Yes, but not to you” he frowns his face in a funny mood making me laugh “I mean it! You are always so formal, so correct... and I... well...”
“What?”
“You know...”
“No, I do not, what?” he says almost in a whisper.
“You knew very well I liked you.”
According to his surprise face, I deduct he didn’t realize.
“But, since when?” he asks surprised.
“Since... Forever?”
“You are kidding me...”
“No! I mean it, although, I didn’t take my feelings seriously until some time before.”
“Are you telling me that you spent years without letting me know this?”
“Why should I tell you? You were married, you had a daughter...”
He loses his glance in a point far before retaking the conversation.
“Do you know that I doubted right before getting married?”
“Why did you?”
“Because of you” and as I am not willing to answer to such unexpected information, he proceeds “I already told you about that night in the Garamond. That day I felt attracted to you in a different... sense. Even when I barely had the chance to talk to you before, that night was like if we could talk about anything. You were only a student in her final year of carrer but, you cared even about my boring job. Claudia has never concerned about how my work was going in all this years. You made every kind of questions and at some point I felt so pleasant next to you, just the way I feel now” he says making a little presion wit his hands, pushing me towards his body “When I made it home I thought: am I rushing on getting married? If I felt so good with other person more than with the one I was supposed to get married, maybe I had to think about that twice. Then, I started to establish reasons and I moved on. I was even afraid of the way I was thinking about you. Since then, I couldn’t resist to bring that thought again everytime I saw you.
I am breathless, literarly. Jorge looks at me, satisfied with my surprise.
“And, why you didn’t tell me anything that night?” I manage to answer.
“I didn’t even dare to get close to you more than necessary. You were the daughter of my bosses...”
I love when he puts his head down for an instant and raises it to look at me again. His sight is more intense everytime he does that, almost like if while staring at the floor he absorves strength to try to transmit through his eyes, what he can’t say with words.
“You should tell me something.”
“You... you had a boyfriend...”
“You should tell me something.” I repeat.
I realize we are getting close one to the other. I can’t even move. Those lips are so close to me again...
“I never thought you could be interested on someone almost ten years older than you.”
“Even though, you should tell me something...”
From the distant, a storm seems to approach more and more. The moisture smell takes place of the atmosphere, refreshing every thing at its path. Unconsciously, Jorge pulls at his coat to protect me better with it and he makes me smile stronger. He is so protector...
In that moment, the Tour Eiffel finally gets lighten, making the city of light to shine even more if possible. People stop to admire it and, it is just inevitable not to admire such spectaculum. We turned our heads to watch it as well. He turns again while I still admire those flashing lights, like hypnotized.
“It is beautiful...” I say enthralled.
“More that anything in the world.”
I can see he has his glance on me and I look at him again at his eyes. His pupils are dilated as soon as they find mine. And after many years of no physical contact, here we are, in the Pont Alexandre III with the Tour Eiffel in the bottom.
A fine rain starts to fall.
“Do you want to come back to the hotel already?” he asks me.
“Don’t you know that Paris is even more beautiful when it’s raining?”
He looks at me smiley while raindrops are falling over his face. We know it has to happen, that this is the moment we were delaying for so long. He looks extremely handsome under the rain. He takes a lack of hair away from my face while he tastes the raindrops on his lips. He moves one of his hands from behind my head while he leaves his other hand on my waist and he bends his head little by little as he gets closer and closer to me. He seems to stop an instant; right in the moment I am practicaly separating my lips to receive his kiss. He looks at them, raises his sight to look at my eyes and draws a smile full of joy, so much joy that even sounds surreal for kissing me to be the reason. He leads his eyes to my mouth again and then he walks through the short passage we have between us rubbing his lips with mine, so slowly, almost afraid for me to step backward, using every second of contact. His lips are so soft that he seems to be caring me. And I finally answer by hugging him stronger than he does, feeling his weath body stuck to mine, returning the kiss.
After so many years and this is what should happen: Paris and this kiss.