He leads me to the Eiffel Tower painting and gently removes it from the wall and holds it pressed up against his torso, facing me. “I was going to save it for your birthday, but I guess now that you’ve already seen it, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.”
“I can’t take it, Dimitri.”
His eyes blaze through me, but his voice is soft. “Ronnie, I painted it for you. See?” He points to the upper left corner of the painting.
The writing is small. I couldn’t have read it while it was hanging up on the wall, but I can see now that it reads, “To my darling Ronnie. Je t’aime. XOXO.”
My eyes fill up with tears that quickly spill over. I lightly trace my finger over the words and then look up at him. “Merci …”
He crouches to set the painting against the wall, then stands up and wipes my tears away with the gentle swipe of his thumb. “De rien,” he says. He pauses and smiles. “You’re welcome.”
“You speak French?”
He winks and shrugs. “Oui … a little.”
“A ‘little,’ huh? I’ve heard that one before.” I glace at my watch just then, realizing that the concept of time has completely escaped me. I gasp in shock and disappointment. “It’s two-thirty in the morning?”
Dimitri looks at his watch and nods, “I guess it is. Time flies …”
“I probably should go before Mom and Dad start to worry. I really don’t want this night to end though; I didn’t even get to see your room.”
He runs his fingers absently through my hair and the corner of his mouth turns up in that mischievous grin that makes my heart skip a beat. “Let’s save that for another time. I have a feeling I may not be able to keep my hands off you if I get you up there right now.” He winks devilishly. “I don’t want to tempt you into compromising your spotless reputation.”
How does everyone seem to know I’m a virgin? My face reddens and I avert my eyes. My gaze lands on my feet, which I notice are still bare. “Oh. Where are my shoes?”
The smile still in place, I sense he’s waiting for me to look at him so that he can taunt me some more. “I think they’re on the floor in the other room. You may have dropped them when you became otherwise engaged.”
My cheeks grow impossibly warmer. I whisper, “Oh yeah … I forgot.”
• • •
Dimitri pulls his Porsche up into my driveway and puts it in park. Leaving it running, he quickly gets out to come around and open my door. I pry myself from the passenger seat; I don’t want to say goodnight, even though by now it’s early morning. He pulls me into the most comforting hug. His arms don’t encircle me. They engulf me. I’m completely surrounded by his warmth, his smell, his kindness, and his love. I stand there in silence with my eyes closed and my head resting against his chest listening to the beat of his heart for several minutes. He squeezes me tightly, kisses the top of my head, and releases me. The cool morning air creeps in all around me and I shiver violently.
“You’d better get inside and get to bed.”
While I unlock the backdoor of my house, he retrieves my early birthday present from his car. I turn and reach out to take the painting with both hands. I’m scared to touch it, afraid I might drop it. “Thank you so much … for everything. I’ll never forget this night for as long as I live.”
He rubs my back and his mouth turns up in a slight smile. “I’m counting on that, Ronnie.” He leans in over the painting and presses his lips against mine and holds them there for several seconds before pulling away. “I’ll call you after we get home from church later this morning. Sweet dreams.”
He holds the door for me to get inside, walks to his car, and waves back at me before ducking inside and backing down the drive.
I walk gingerly down the stairs to my bedroom, being careful not to bump the painting against the walls. I set it on the floor of my room, propped up against the wall next to my bed. I slip my shoes off and lay down on my bed, staring at the painting.
I think about Dimitri. My mind begins to drift and my eyes grow heavy. Before I know it, I’m dreaming …
We are staring at each other across the dance floor of a large ballroom. Dimitri is dressed in a tailored suit. The room is crowded with woman in elegant, floor-length ball gowns. Couples glide around the dance floor to the music of a string quartet tucked away near the far end of the room. Dimitri makes his way slowly across the floor, gracefully dodging the dancers spinning and twirling around him, never taking his eyes off me. In a short time he’s standing before me, bowing deeply. He gently raises my hand and kisses the back of it. “Good evening, Miss Smith.”
I attempt to contain my smile, but it stretches from ear to ear. “Good evening, Dimitri.”
In my dream, we are speaking in French, but I hear every word in English.
He gestures toward the dance floor. “Would you like to dance, Veronica? Or can I interest you in a walk this evening? The air is still warm and twilight draws near. The moon will be full tonight with plenty of light to walk by.”
“A walk sounds lovely.”
He turns and offers his elbow, which I promptly take and hold tightly. His touch, even through layers of clothing, is heavenly. I’ve not known him long and being near him is intoxicating.
We walk out into the warm evening air and dodge horse-drawn carriages as we cross the road.
“Where are we going?” I ask curiously.
“I want to show you something. I take this walk every night, but always alone. I thought it would be nice to share it …”
I finish his thought, “With someone.”
He smiles briefly and the ghost left behind coaxes a blush to my cheeks. He corrects, “With you.”
The blush deepens and my arm that’s touching his warms considerably. I walk as if on a cloud, barely seeing what’s ahead, my world fuzzy with anticipation. His words bring me back and alert me to the fact that we’ve reached the river.
“I love a walk along the Seine at this time of day. At twilight, the water looks like a black mirror, ominous and beautiful. There’s something very passionate and sensual about it. It’s inspiring.”
“Inspiring? How so?” I’m intrigued. Gentleman do not talk this way in the company of ladies. It’s intimate, and though I know it’s inappropriate, I want to hear more.
“I am a painter. The river’s dark allure inspires me. I do my best work after returning home from a walk beside her.” His smile turns mischievous, “I perform brilliantly when I’m fully stimulated—my imagination aroused by beauty. Especially late at night.” He adds with a wink.
Heavens. Did it just get hot? Now my entire body is warm. I clear my throat. “I didn’t know you painted? I mean, I guess I don’t know anything about you really, since I’ve only just made your acquaintance a few weeks ago.” I smile coyly. “Apart from the fact that you are partial to pistachio macaroons.”
Dimitri began patronizing my parents’ patisserie a month ago. He only ever buys pistachio macaroons. He stops in every Tuesday and Friday afternoon at four-fifteen. He didn’t introduce himself until the second week, and by the third we engaged in friendly conversation. I learned he lives with his brother in the Latin Quarter, but visits this quartier twice a week for “personal reasons.” This past week he asked me to meet him at the midsummer ball in the dance hall near Montparnasse. And I couldn’t say no.
His knowing smile holds many secrets. “You know me better than you might think.”
We walk with arms linked for quite a distance along the river. Soon, I began to look at it through a different set of eyes. It arouses something intense inside me, something that’s new, yet familiar at the same time. It is beautiful at this time of day, I think.
Night has fallen completely and in the near distance I see the Eiffel Tower aglow in the light of the full moon. I love the Eiffel Tower. I stop and sigh, “I never grow tired of admiring it.”
He follows my gaze to the Tower. “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”
“It is. I remember wa
tching it being constructed as a little girl. We’ve always lived in the 7th arrondissement, so I’d make my mother or father walk me here to the site every day. They took me to the fair when it was finally finished. It still takes my breath away, even after looking at it finished every day for more than ten years now.”
“Have you ever been to the top? The view is spectacular.”
“Only once. A couple of years ago, on my fourteenth birthday, my mother and father took me. I’ll never forget it. I could see Notre Dame, Arc de Triomphe, Jardin du Luxembourg, I think I could even see Sorbonne.” I sigh again.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“For me?
We begin walking toward the Tower, and excitement slowly builds inside me.
Just as we reach it, it a young man steps out of the shadows. The sight of him makes me jump.
“Good evening, Henri.” Dimitri greets him in a friendly manner and is obviously not surprised to see him.
“Good evening, Dimitri. Are you ready? You won’t have much time.”
Dimitri looks to me and grins devilishly. “I’m grateful for whatever time affords me.”
We ascend a set of stairs, Henri opens a lock and Dimitri and I are soon deposited in an elevator that opens up near the top of the Eiffel Tower. I gather my skirts in one hand and grip the handrail with the other as I climb the narrow staircase to the top. Dimitri follows closely. I’m out of breath as I alight on the observation platform. I look out and say, breathlessly, “Is that really Paris?”
It is, of course, but from up this high and beneath a full moon it’s more magical than I could ever imagine. Gaslights twinkle as far as I can see.
Dimitri stands behind me and boldly slips his arms around my waist. My body tingles. He whispers in my ear, “There’s no other view like this in the world.”
I can’t speak. I nod in agreement instead. I stand in his embrace admiring the view for several minutes until his faint voice stirs me back to reality.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we should leave. Henri could get in a lot of trouble for letting us up here.”
The fact that we are indeed trespassing had not occurred to me until now. “Oh. Oh! Of course.” I turn to face him, but turn and steal one more glance over my shoulder. I may never have this opportunity again and I want to remember this moment forever.
His whisper draws my attention back to him. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I look up into his eyes. I can’t look away. “It is. Paris is beautiful.”
The moonlight dances off his gray eyes. “I was referring to you.” His voice is soft and beckoning. There’s longing in his eyes so strong I feel it as though it’s inside me. He raises his hands slowly to place them on my cheeks. His hands are incredibly soft and they tremble as he strokes his thumbs across my skin.
“May I kiss you?” he whispers.
Goose bumps instantly cover every inch of my already tingling skin. I close my eyes and nod slightly once … .
Life is sometimes … tingly and covered with goose bumps.
Chapter 6
Life’s most important questions
Should always be written in ALL CAPS
Dimitri calls the next morning, but I don’t get to see him. My English paper is my date for the day. The next two weeks ramble on much the same way. Work and homecoming obligations have completely taken over my schedule and thrown my life into a state of chaos, which—although short-lived—doesn’t allow me much time to spend with Dimitri outside of passing periods, lunch, and study hall.
Homecoming has mutated and taken on a life of its own. Piper is so stressed out that I have to take on some additional commitments along with selling tickets to head off her certain and unavoidable nervous breakdown. She’s always had an exceptional gift for biting off more than she can chew, so I see it coming and am not surprised at all when I’m literally begged (on knees) to take over soliciting donations from local businesses for the raffle and ordering the catering.
The extra favors normally wouldn’t be such a big deal, except for the fact that I also have a job. I work for a small optometry clinic. Officially, I answer phones, schedule appointments and take care of the filing. Unofficially, I run errands for the doctors—like picking up their dry cleaning or lunch or dinner; entertain small children in the waiting area; act as counselor to Rita, the flighty optician, whose life plays out like a soap opera; a shoulder to cry on for Dolores, the middle-aged doctor’s assistant who recently lost her husband of thirty-two years to a heart attack; and run interference in an attempt to squelch any office gossip Helen starts before it gets out of hand. Helen’s the other desk clerk, and we typically work side-by-side. Basically, I just do whatever is asked of me (and often what isn’t) under the silly notion that it will keep everyone happy. The staff is small and, to put it lightly, quirky.
The past two weeks I’ve been covering for Helen while she’s on vacation. I usually only work two afternoons a week and every other Saturday, but while Helen is out I’m working every day after school until close at eight-thirty, plus both Saturdays.
Dimitri is so patient and understanding and at my beck and call whenever a free moment presents itself. Unfortunately, they’re just those … moments. Every night I leave work to find a note tucked under Jezebel’s windshield wiper. Dimitri comes up with something new every night. Whether it’s a drawing, or a joke, or a quote, or a pointless trivial fact, it always makes me smile. I find myself almost running out the door every night with butterflies in my stomach anticipating that little piece of him waiting there to greet me. I save them all in my glove box.
• • •
I tell my coworkers good night as I walk out the door on Friday night. Helen will be back on Monday. Thank. Goodness. Freedom … the thought puts a smile on my face. I’m struggling to get my jacket on as I jog through the parking lot and not paying attention as I approach Jezebel. My hand finally breaks through the sleeve as I look up expectantly at the windshield ready to strip the note from under the wiper. But there’s nothing. My smile vanishes and my heart drops. I stand there staring at the wiper, willing a piece of paper to appear out of thin air. Finally I sigh in defeat and open up my bag to hunt for my keys so that I can unlock the door and sulk in privacy behind closed doors.
“Looking for something?” I jump at the close proximity of the voice, but it doesn’t scare me. The voice is unmistakable. I smile and turn around to see him walking up from behind Jezebel. His right hand is extended out in front of him holding a folded piece of red paper. “I decided to hand deliver this one tonight rather than leaving it. I hope that’s okay.”
I nod and take the note. I open it up and read the words written in handwriting that has become very familiar to me. There, written in all caps as always—though this time a small heart doodle is there, too—are the words, “WILL YOU GO TO HOMECOMING WITH ME?”
I’ve been so focused on getting the work done for homecoming that I honestly hadn’t given any thought to actually going to the dance. It’s seemed more like a burdensome homework assignment rather than an actual event I might attend. I stand there looking at the words on the page in silence while butterflies take flight inside my stomach. He wants to take me to homecoming!
“Well? Do I have to beg, Ronnie? I’m not above that, you know.” His smile is so sweet it leaves me silent a few seconds longer than I intend.
Finally I pry my eyes from the note, offer a sheepish smile and a shrug. “I’d love to. But I have to help decorate the gym before and then sell tickets during the dance. That’s not very fair to you.”
“You only have to sell tickets until 10:00 and then you’re all mine. I already talked to Piper,” he adds with a wink. “I’ll crash the party then take you to dinner after the dance, since we won’t have time to go before.” His words make it clear that he’s done his research and has already planned the evening, even if I haven’t considered the possibilities.
I feel guilty. “I’m
so sorry, Dimitri. I’m going to ruin the whole night. I never should’ve let Piper sucker me into this one.” I fold the paper and shove it in my jacket pocket.
“Alas, she admits it. She is a sucker.” He laughs at my obvious irritation and takes my free hand in his, squeezing it and brushing my cheek lightly with his other hand. “You won’t ruin anything. If I get to spend five minutes with you it will be worth it.”
I gasp as a realization sinks in. I’ve been so busy that I completely overlooked the fact that I don’t have anything to wear. Even if I was only selling tickets, and not going with this adorable, perfect guy, I still need a dress.
His eyebrows pinch together. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have anything to wear.” Panic rises in my voice.
A smile of relief crosses his lips. “Already taken care of.”
“What do you mean?”
“I talked to your mom last week and she’s already sewn a dress for you. She’s been secretly working on it while you were at work every night.” His smile is smug now.
Relief washes over me, but suddenly I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. My mom is an amazing seamstress and I know the dress will be beautiful. “How did you know I’d say yes?”
“You can’t resist me.”
“Is that so?” I’m teasing him. Of course I can’t resist him.
He takes a step closer until our bodies are touching. His smile turns into the mischievous variety, the one that both excites and terrifies me at the same time. It excites me because it’s so inviting and indiscreet and it terrifies me for precisely the same reasons. He lowers his head until our noses touch. He closes his eyes and his palms gently press against my cheeks while his fingertips graze my ears and weave into my hair. I close my eyes and wait for his kiss. I feel his steady breath on my face, while mine is wildly uneven.
We stand there for more than 30 seconds before he breaks the silence. “Perhaps I was wrong. It looks like you can resist me after all.” I hear the smile in his voice.