Chapter Seven
We stayed up until 2 am local time, drinking and laughing and making outrageous plans to take revenge on Bradley. It was only 8 pm to our bodies so I thought I might take a while to fall asleep, but it had been such a long day and the bed I collapsed in was so luxurious, I had fallen asleep within minutes.
When I woke up the next morning, it was eleven already. I jumped out of bed and shook Megan awake in the bed next to mine. “Megs!”
She rolled over and groaned. “What?”
“It’s eleven! Come on, we’ve wasted almost half the day!”
Megan sat up in bed, yawning, while I grabbed the plush hotel robe from inside the wardrobe. After an amazing shower with some wonderful smelling, free bath products, I blow dried my hair. Then I opened my suitcase to try and choose an outfit for a day of shopping in Paris. I suspected that no matter what I chose I’d be easy to pick out as an American tourist, so instead I went for comfort and decided on a cute sundress with flat open toed sandals.
As Megan shuffled towards the shower, I opened the door that joined our room to where Becca and Ashley were sleeping. Becca was sitting on the bed straightening her hair.
“Ashley’s out on the balcony,” she nodded towards the door. “We were thinking we could go somewhere for something to eat, then do some shopping maybe? And since the Eiffel Tower is so close, we could go there too. Then dinner tonight and go to a club or something.”
“Sure,” I said. “I can’t believe we slept half the day.”
“Well, there’s the time difference,” Becca pointed out. “Anyway, we’re on vacation, remember? If we want to sleep in, now’s the time to do it.”
“Right. Go with the flow. No schedules,” I reminded myself.
I walked over to the balcony door and stepped outside. Ashley was sitting on a wrought iron chair with her legs pulled up, wearing oversized sunglasses and holding a cigarette. On the table next to her sat a coffee and a plate with a half-eaten croissant.
“Where did you get that?” I asked her, amazed. “How long have you been up?”
She shrugged. “An hour or two. Where’d I get what?”
“The cigarette- you don’t smoke. the coffee, the croissant, and the sunglasses.”
“Bought these online before we left,” she said, gesturing to the sunglasses. “The coffee and croissant are room service. I went down to the front desk and got the cigarettes there. The girl handed them over like mints. This is France, I guess.”
“You don’t even smoke,” I echoed Becca from last night.
“I’ve had like two puffs,” she said. “It’s just nice sitting on a balcony in Paris with a cigarette. If I tilt my head at this exact angle and don’t move, I can see the Eiffel Tower between those two buildings.”
“Where? Let me see!”
Ashley stood up and let me sit in her chair. I imitated the tilt of her head and caught a glimpse of the famous tower in the gap between two buildings. I sighed happily. “I’m so excited to finally be here,” I said.
After Becca and Megan were ready, the four of us headed out towards the Champs-Elysees. Paris’s biggest street stretched out before us just like I’d always imagined it. High fashion boutiques, fancy restaurants and cafes, and jewelry stores stretched out on both sides. The sidewalks were so wide they seemed even wider than the street itself. A line of impeccably pruned green trees separated the sidewalk from the street. We headed down one side of the street slowly, heading down towards the Arc de Triomphe. We stopped to look in the windows of some of the shops, but I felt so overwhelmed that I was sure a snooty Parisian shop assistant would laugh at me and escort me out if I dared to set foot in the door of Chanel or Dior.
When we reached the end of the street, we stopped at the massive traffic circle and took pictures of the Arc de Triomphe. “Do you want to climb to the top?” asked Becca hopefully.
“NO,” said Ashley. “Let’s walk down the other side of the street. I want to find something to wear out tonight.”
“We’ll do tourist stuff tomorrow, Becca,” I promised her. We crossed the street and headed down in the other direction until finally Ashley dragged us in to a Louis Vuitton store. I felt like I had to whisper, like I was in a museum or something. The saleswoman ignored us at first until Megan pointed out a beautiful leather purse to me.
“You should get yourself something like that,” she said. “Honestly, even if it’s not to get back at Bradley, you could carry that bag every day.”
“You think?” I asked her.
“Of course. Excuse me- um, excusez-moi...” Megan gestured to the saleswoman, who came over with a doubtful look on her face. “My friend would like to see this handbag, please.”
The saleswoman took it out and handed it to me. I put it over my shoulder and looked in the mirror. It was a beautiful bag. The leather was heavy but soft to the touch, and the style was so classic I could use it for years to come. “I love it,” I admitted.
“Three thousand euros,” said the saleswoman.
The old, practical Julia winced at the price. That was a few mortgage payments, or a new dining room set to replace the one that had gotten scratched in the move! That was summer camp for Henry and horseback riding lessons for Olivia. But the new, go with the flow Julia who sometimes took time to do something nice for herself, looked in the mirror and saw a beautiful handbag. “I’ll take it,” I declared.
After the saleswoman had wrapped it up for me and I’d handed over Bradley’s credit card, we decided to get something to eat. A cafe was a few doors down; it was a cute sidewalk café, so ordered sandwiches and wine. I couldn’t stop sneaking glances down at my new handbag.
Lunch was expensive, but with Bradley footing the bill I was able to relax and enjoy the atmosphere of sitting on a sunny sidewalk on one of the most fashionable streets in the world, watching tourists and Parisians hurry by.
When lunch was over we continued down the Champs-Elysees, mostly window shopping but occasionally going inside a store. We came across a shopping arcade, where we discovered a store that sold dresses that would be great for going out tonight. It was almost like high school again, as the four of us crowded in to the tiny dressing rooms, trading dresses, going back for different sizes, ooh-ing and ahh-ing and sometimes shaking our heads until we had each found a dress we were happy with.
“I can’t wait to wear this out tonight,” said Ashley, as we left the store.
“Where do you guys want to go?” asked Megan. “For dinner and dancing, I mean.”
“I could Google-“ I started to say, but Megan shook her head.
“Remember, Jules? No planning. Just let what happens, happen.”
“Agreed,” said Ashley. “We can ask at the front desk of the hotel a good area to visit, but once we’re there, we just follow our noses and find a great spot.”
It was four o’clock by that time, and I knew the French wouldn’t eat dinner until late, so when Becca asked if we could walk across the bridge down the street from our hotel to visit the Eiffel Tower, we all agreed. We stopped in at our hotel to stash our shopping bags in our rooms, and then walked across the bridge spanning the Seine.
The Eiffel Tower stood in the middle of a huge garden, and the lawns were covered in tourists. Some were big groups- school groups in matching t-shirts, or a busload of Japanese tourists crowding in for a group photo- and others were smaller...families, couples, young college age kids. For a minute I felt jealous of the college kids, getting out and travelling the world before a husband and family came along. I’d married Bradley right out of college and we’d had Henry right away. At the time it had felt so right, and we’d been so happy to start a family. I didn’t regret having my son, but I couldn’t help but wonder for the first time what my life might have been like if I hadn’t stayed with Bradley.
The lineup to buy tickets to the top was long, but it passed quickly as we people-watched and chatted about tonight. Ashley kept bringing up revenge sex, but I brushed
her off. We inched forward in line until it was finally our turn to be crammed into an elevator with about fifty other people. We rode a series of three elevators all the way to the top, where we squeezed our way through the crowd until we managed to get a spot at the railing to look out over Paris.
“Look! That’s where we were,” said Megan, pointing to the wide Champs-Elysees and Arc de Triomphe in the distance.
Becca shaded her eyes. “There’s the Louvre,” she pointed. “Can we go there tomorrow? And Notre-Dame?”
“I’ll probably be sleeping off my hangover until noon,” said Ashley.
“I’ll go with you, Becca,” I offered, since it seemed a sin to visit Paris and not see the Mona Lisa.
“I’ll go too,” said Megan. “As long as we’re not leaving too early.”
“Is nobody else going to have a crazy good time with me tonight?” Ashley asked, disappointed.
“Of course we are,” I told her. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? Let loose, relax, have a little fun.”
“A lot of fun,” Ashley corrected me.
“Museums can be fun too,” Becca protested. Ashley laughed.
I tuned out my friends’ silly argument and looked back out at the city of Paris. I’d dreamed of visiting here so often when I was younger- what little girl doesn’t dream of Paris? I’d imagined standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower a hundred times before. It was just that in my dreams, it had always been Bradley standing up here next to me. I pictured his face the night of Olivia’s birthday party, when he’d told me he didn’t love me anymore, and tightened my grip on the railing. How could he have done this to me?