Encounters in Paris - A Collection of Short Stories: A Brief Indiscretion

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A Brief Indiscretion

She met him just as she said she would, in the lobby of the Hotel Jeanne d'Arc near Bastille. Checking her appearance in the rectangular glass panels on the wall, she was very proud of her dress selection. It was a brown and olive green, knee-length floral dress with brown silk oriental details. The sleeves were capped and the high empire waist accented her new hourglass figure. She completed the look with dark brown faux python skinned, peep-toed stilettos shoes and a matching clutch handbag. You look good, she smiled to herself.  

He was waiting for her too, just as he had said he would. It was 7 o'clock in the evening when she finally approached him. He was already texting her for the fifth time on his cell phone, trying to detect her exact whereabouts. He was dressed more casually, a look that had always suited him. Wearing dark gray jeans, a black shirt and comfortable black loafers, the colors in his clothes perfectly accented the tiny specks of gray found in his caramel-colored hair. He too had aged well and at 43, still possessed the same boyish good looks and slender build, which had attracted her to him in the first place. He was in advertising and due to a series of agency turnovers; he had lived all over the world. Yet, he managed to remain undeniably a Californian. He took great pride in putting himself together in an easy way without much fuss.  

She hadn't seen him in 15 years. Over the years, they had corresponded briefly by letters and later by emails and instant messages (how's your family, congratulations on landing that ad account, the write up about your company was great, sorry to hear that your father died, thanks for the photos of the new baby, etc.) but neither of them had really seen each other or spoken in great detail since that rainy, July day in 1994. He called to say that he had not only accepted the job as creative director at a firm in San Francisco, but had met someone new and wouldn't be returning to Chicago. She was devastated because he hadn't been willing to wait. He was crushed because she hadn't been willing to take a leap of faith. He had asked her to be his wife but she had declined, citing her own career ambitions as the excuse.  

Later, he would learn that she had married a French graphic artist, moved to Paris and birthed twin girls. After brief stints living and working in New York, London and San Francisco, he would marry an artist as well. Now, they had a son.  

She hadn't told him she was leaving her husband because of his infidelity. He couldn't tell her that his temptations were serial, and his wife had already filed for divorce. Neither wanted to admit aloud that they were alone, scared and hurting.  

He looked glad to see her at least. His big smile told her that he was pleased with how she looked and she reciprocated with a wide grin of her own. Surprisingly two days earlier, he had phoned her. His firm had acquired a smaller agency in Paris and he wondered if they could meet up for a drink before his return to the States. Standing face-to-face, the initial awkwardness melted away, replaced by intimate familiarity.  

"Hey, beautiful!" he said.  

"Hey, yourself," was her reply.  

"You look great, Kicks, really, as usual." It was his nickname for her.  

"So do you. It's so great to see you!"  

"Shall we go inside and grab that drink?"  

"I would love it."  

He took one of her hands in his and the other rested lightly in the small of her back. Greeting the doormen with a quick nod, they headed for the bar just off to the right of the hotel lobby. Finding some big, soft comfy chairs in the darkest part of the room, they settled down and ordered drinks and appetizers. Both had decided that it was time to play catch up. He took in the room's opulence while she placed their orders.  

"So, you live in this very beautiful place, Paris. I have to admit, though, that I detect just a touch of sadness.  

I know you...what gives?"  

She stopped for a moment to consider the question and then took a sip of her apple martini.  

"Paris is beautiful but it's a really ugly place too," she said with a quiet, nervous laugh.  

"I'm serious...It's a place meant to break your heart. Either you'll leave because you have to or you'll meet someone who'll make you. Either way, time here is finite."  

"Uh oh, you're getting all philosophical on me," he joked. "So...which one of these things happened to you?" he asked leaning in and grinning in a conspiratorial manner.  

"Both, unfortunately," she confessed. Now, he felt sorry for asking.  

"No one has ever MADE you do anything you didn't want to do."  

"Trust me, in so many ways I am NOT the woman you remember."  

"Good, because I'm certainly not the same man you remember, either."  

"I know...actually, you're hotter!" she winked at him.  

They both laughed, raising their glasses, gesturing a toast.  

Six months earlier, she had discovered her husband's affair through an unsent letter. The problem was everyone in their social circle knew all about it. Apparently, it was a long-term relationship, lasting well over a year. Had they not been caught, she assumed it would have continued forever with her in the dark or until her husband decided he was ready to leave her.  

Most people figured that the discovery would lead to divorce, and no one wanted to be around to witness that marital demise.  

It was always such a downer when divorces occurred. Usually when one relationship ended, others followed in rapid succession. Just one couple having the courage to split often made it okay for others to imitate.  

Divorce was also a funny thing-it was contagious like polio. Sometimes, it was mysterious how and why it happened; it could strike at anytime; and when people saw it coming, they kept a close eye on loved ones, never allowing them to venture too far away from home. They became suspicious of everything and everyone. 'Beware of the divorcee,' they would whisper, like it was still the 1950s. That's why when one couple divorced, not only did the other couples choose sides between husband and wife in maintaining friendships, but they often avoided the damaged couple, placing them in quarantine until the atmosphere improved. They probably figured this would give them some sort of immunity, or provide a human buffer zone. She feared this would happen to her and her husband if they ever decided to part.  

It was not her husband's first affair, but having invested so much into the relationship, she decided to handle it the French way-endure it for the sake of relative security. She had been with her husband longer than any other man in her life. She had nowhere else to go and it wasn't easy just to uproot her life and leave. Paris had now become not only her home but that of her children. Plus, she just didn't want to return to the States and admit everyone was right about her husband. Most people hadn't held very high hopes that the relationship would last anyway. She just didn't want to hear a litany of 'I told you so's.'  

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A Brief Indiscretion is part of the Encounters in Paris series.  Purchase the paperback or ebook at:

Amazon - http://amzn.to/h6cjMY 

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