We Will Always Have Paris

Chapter Thirty-Four

 The hospital was cold and smelled of antiseptics and illness. I was alive, whatever blood vessel Alaine had hit was not a major one, it just bleed long enough to terrify Alaine and Michael. I was also afraid, the amount of blood covering me was amazing and I could feel the dried blood across my throat from where the knife had laid. My friends were all alive as well, and Gerald had not been drowning in his own blood, he had just been knocked unconscious. Emilie and Harry had yet to stop professing their undying love for each other since the event, and I was very certain that a ring would soon be thrown into the equation as well. Lyn and Cole were both fine, a bit shaken and scratched up, but also alive. And that's all that matters.

 I had yet to see any of my friends for very long, the doctors had me on an I.V. drip and I was weak from blood loss, so conversations were mostly one sided and I had a tendency to fall asleep during them. But there was one conversation with Michael that I will always remember clearly.

 I had been sleeping, but a noise woke me up. It was Michael dragging one of the uncomfortable metal chairs next to my bed. He settled down in it and took my hand.  

 "Bonjour." he said

 "Hello." I said.

 We then stared at each other for a while, unsure of what to say. I wanted to yell at him and tell him how terrible of a friend he was for acting like he was ignoring me when he was here on vacation for me. I also wanted to hug him tight and never let go, showing him how much I cared about him. In the end I did none of these things. I just laid there and let him hold my hand while he figured out what he wanted to say.  

 "I'm sorry." he finally said

 "What for?"

 "For leaving you with that man."

 "I told you to leave."

 He shrugged, "But still. I should have fought him and been more of a man about it."

 "A smart man gets the police." I smiled at him and he smiled back.

  "I don't know how you do it Marilyn. You are always there for people and you try so hard to make things right." I didn't say anything, unsure of how to reply to that. "I could leave now," he went on, "and never see you again. That's what I should do. I care about you too much and you shouldn't have to choose between Gerald and I. That's rude and unfair."

 "There's that saying, 'If you love something, set it free' is that what you are trying to do?" I asked, hoping the answer would be no.

 "I guess so Marilyn. I want to be with you so bad and I want to be able to love you without feeling guilty. But I do feel guilty." I gripped his hand tighter.

 "Please do not feel guilty. We both know there is not room in our hearts for guilt."  

 "No." Michael said sadly.

 We sat quietly for a little while and eventually I fell asleep again. When I woke up it was dark outside, and in the chair where Michael had been sitting was a notepad and a pen. I reached over and grabbed it without falling out of the bed and read the little message on it. "Figure it out." was written in Michael's handwriting. I did not know what I was supposed to figure out, so I did what I do best.

 I wrote a poem.

 "Jazz played slowly as we sat / At the overlook, the sun kissing the / Mountain peaks as a lover might. / Our fingers rested near each other. / Tenderness in our gaze, silence filled the car. / A silence we could not breach, like two / Mountains never touching yet always wanting / In the quiet we stayed, our suspicions silent. / The sun left the peaks like a reluctant / Lover, much as he and I would part. / The world is huge—unable to contain / Our tiny souls and our tiny hearts. / Mountains stand forever, never meeting / Their love, so they settle for the sun... / Brief and untrue—yet something— / Anything to hold the sorrow at bay. / If your suspicions are true, as my suspicions are true, does this mean / We will finally touch? Sadly, no. / For mountains do not move."

 I laid the pad back on the chair along with the pen, feeling the cramp in my hand, and also the one in my heart.