Anywhere But Here (Revising - On Hold)

Chapter 2

Finally, Chapter 2! So, I'm not an expert at French, but if someone is and I said something wrong (unintentionally) please feel free to let me know!

Enjoy!

Chapter 2

"The local time is 6:48 PM and it is a balmy sixty eight degrees. It has been our pleasure to serve you and we look forward to serving you on a future flight. Thank you for choosing World Air to get you to your destination safely."

I snorted. I had always found it funny that the airline reminded people that there was a chance that the plane could have crashed, thus not arriving at its destination safely. Clearly they didn't mind people switching airlines for the return flight.

Except for me. Because I didn't plan on returning. This was a one way trip. It was time to move forward; I was ready to open a new chapter of my life.

Once I had deboarded the plane and picked up my two suitcases from baggage claim, I made my way through the throngs of people waiting for their bags.

The automatic doors whizzed open and I felt warm air envelope me. I stepped out into the evening and took a deep breath. So this is Paris.

Pulling my bags behind me, I walked to the edge of the curb, extending my hand to hail a taxi. I probably could have walked up to any taxi lined up along the overhang, but my French wasn't all that great. At least I knew the word taxi was the same in both languages.

A moment later, a yellow cab pulled up in front of me. The driver got out and came around to take my bags from me.

"Vous avez beaucoup de bagages, madamoiselle."

I laughed. "Oui." Maybe I understood more French than I thought. And he was right. I did have a lot of luggage with me. I never travel light, especially since I don't know if I'll return to the former place anytime soon. I usually didn't.

"Vous devez rester ici pendant longtemps, n'est-ce pas?"

Shit. I clearly gave myself too much credit. I had no idea what he was saying. Or asking. Something about here. That was the only word I picked up.

Ici. Here.

"Uhh," I said, wracking my brain for a translation.

"You don't speak French." It was a statement, not a question.

My eyes widened. "Un peu," I offered, trying not to seem like just another ignorant American. But I wasn't lying. I did know a little. It had just been a few years since my high school French classes.

He laughed as he loaded my things into the trunk. "I asked if you were staying here a long time. You have all these bags with you."

I smiled politely. Even though he was now speaking in English, I found I still had a difficult time understanding him. His accent sounded smooth and musical, but the way he linked all his words together didn't make deciphering them an easy task.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be staying. Just taking things one day at a time."

"Bien. Where to, mademoiselle?"

"L'hôtel Rousseau," I responded. He nodded and opened the back door for me. "Thank you."

Since when were taxi drivers this nice? New York City drivers should take a tip from this guy. That's just what they'd be getting more of if they did.

I gazed out the window as we took off. I saw countless people affectionately saying goodbye or hello to loved ones. I was thankful I didn't have to deal with that. No tears, no worries, no problems. No happiness either.