It Started in Paris

Chapter Eighteen: His First Kiss

It was a wordless walk back to our place.

"Any luck?" Gertrude said hopefully.

I couldn't bring myself to speak.  Leila spoke to Gertrude and broke the news.  Gertrude's face flooded with sympathy.  She walked towards me and held my arms.

"Just think that she's in a better place now," she said encouragingly.  "I taught her about Jesus and she has accepted Him a long time ago.  Every time I see her crying by the stairs, I would see her humbly saying her prayers to herself.  She will no longer feel pain.  She has gone Home now."

I forced a smile as a tear escaped my eye.  Gertrude wiped it off with her thumb and gave me a warm embrace.

We headed upstairs.  Leila made us three cups of coffee as Jack and I sat by the dining table.  The day suddenly felt slow and indistinct.  After sipping half the content of my cup, I headed to my room and left the bedroom door open.  I slowly sat in the middle of the bed with Jean's letters in hand from my bedside table.  I could see half of Jack's figure talking to Leila.  I opened the letter that Jean wrote on the ninth of March 2003.

Dear  Helen,

                      My  grandson  and  I  are  suffering  from  two  of  our  losses.  He  lost  both  of  his  parents and  I  lost  my  son  and  daughter-in-law.  It's  hard  for  me  to  keep  my  grandson  strong  when  I  myself  is  weak.  My grandson has left and has gone to New York.  He's so angry with himself, with everybody and everything else in this world.  He wanted to be alone.  I know he can take care of himself.  I made him promise me to come back here once he has cleared his mind.  He blames his mother for both of his parents' death.  It really crushed him.

     I'm  sitting  on  this  bench  once  again,  feeling  your  presence,  feeling  the  strength  you're  giving  me  as  if  you're  here.  How  I  wish  this  were  all  true.  How  I  wish  you're  sitting  right here  beside  me,  holding  my  hand  and  telling  me  everything's  going  to  be  alright.  Je  vous  ai  aimés,  Helen  and  I  always  will.

Love,

Jean 

Everything.

On March 9, 2003, Jean lost everything.

I feel sorry for him.  I don't think that I'd be able to tell him about Helen.  I don't know if he could take the news.  I don't want to make him feel any more disappointed for the rest of his life.

I could just imagine how his face would light up when I say Helen's name.  I could envision how he would ask me,  "Have you found her?"  Then, his face would fall and reject the news.  He would demand to see it for himself.  He would insist in finding Helen himself.

All these thinking made my head thump.  I lied down and closed my eyes.  In a few moments, I unconsciously fell asleep.

"Rise and shine, my princess," his voice felt pleasant to my ears.  I could feel his breathing right behind me.  I slowly opened my eyes and turned to see him propped up by his elbow and resting his head on his right hand.

I smiled tenderly at the sight of him.

"I want to take you out today," he said with a perfect wide smile.

"Oh," I said hesitantly.  "I don't know Jack..."

"Come on.  Don't worry about Helen.  I'm sure we can come up with a way to tell him," Jack said positively.

He's right.

"Fine."  I sat up and grabbed an orange ruffled top and skinny jeans.  I got out of the bathroom and found him lying on the bed facing the ceiling.  He turned to me then he sat up as I slipped into my red Converse.

"Where are we going anyway?"

"To a place where you've never been," he answered sarcastically with a wide smile on his face.

We took a bus ride to Place Des Vosges.  The housefronts were all built to the same design of red brick with strips of stone quoins over vaulted arcades that stand on square pillars.  The steeply-pitched blue slate roofs are pierced with discreet small-paned dormers above the pedimented dormers that stand upon the cornices.  Only the north range was built with the vaulted ceilings that the "galleries" were meant to have.  Two pavilions that rise higher than the unified roofline of the square center the north and south faces and offer access to the square through triple arches.

We walked on the huge field which was large enough to become a football stadium if not only for its patterned mowed grass that was open at the center of the square.  He looked even more dazzling under the sun in his gray shirt and worn-out jeans.

"I still can't believe Helen's gone," I said, shaking my head, feeling a little less disheartened than yesterday.

"She died on the same day my parents did and the day that I left for New York," Jack added flatly.

"I want to let him know before I leave Paris," I said, biting my lip.

He pulled me down with him to the ground and I couldn't help but let out a fit of laughter as he rolled me underneath his strong body.  He was only inches apart when he spoke, "I knew what I should've done that night."  He was only millimeters apart from my lips just as I could remember the other night after romantically dancing at the Seine.  His lips were surprisingly soft like a rose--I never knew men's lips could be so tender, though, I've never kissed a rose--his lips felt suddenly in sync with mine.  Our lips begin to move slowly.  He unhurriedly pulled away and murmured, "Stay."

"I wish I could," I whispered as I swept my hand gently on the side of his face.

"Have I told you that this was my first kiss?" Jack said with a grin.

I chuckled.  "Really?"

"Yeah," he said softly.

Then, as if on auto-pilot, I pulled the back of his neck gently towards me and touched his lips with mine once more.