We Will Always Have Paris

Chapter Nine

Gerald's POV:
The weeks crawled by, August ended and September started all without my noticing. Steven took to caring for me, he would bring me food every week and most of it he threw away because I didn't eat any of it, so deep I was in my heartache. The odd thing about my foolish heart was that it spent most of the time remembering how it pumped when Marilyn was around me, the way it constricted and left me feeling breathless. I wasn't even experiencing heartbreak, for my heart wasn't broken it still beat with that single minded determinedness in order to keep my sorry ass alive.
No, I wasn't broken. Marilyn had never been mine, she and I had never made anything official between us knowing that any day I would have to leave for the States and continue with my job. She would continue to work at that little café until she was too old to walk. I never saw her in any other place, anyways. Paris was her home, and it could've been mine too.
As I sunk further and further in to my misery my music because more erratic, deep, and sensual. All I could think about were brown eyes and blond hair framing the palest skin I'd ever seen. Pink lips, pink cheeks, brimming with excitement at meeting me, G-Eazy her favorite rapper...then her face earnest and sweet as she let me kiss her for the first time...the look of fear when I entered her that one time...those beautiful eyes that sang "I love you" every moment she looked at me...Marilyn deBoncoeur, my Marilyn.
"Dude you need to get out of this house." Steven told me on one especially dreary morning.
"What's the point? She's not out there waiting for me." I sat up in my bed, closely examining the fine bones of my hand. I had grown thin lately, due to my lack of appetite, and the bones stuck out vividly. "Do I look skinny to you?" Steven glared at me.
Steven ignored my question, "Well the weather man said it was supposed to only rain this morning and that the weather would clear up by noon. We could go to the park or something."
It was my turn to glare, "I'm not going on a date with you, honey. I want to lie in bed all day and feel sorry for myself." I crossed my arms across my chest.
He snorted, "You're the one that asked if you were skinny, Gerald. And as for feeling sorry for yourself, you've gotten pretty good at it and I think you need to move on to a new occupation..." Steven kept talking but I scooted back down into my bed and worked hard to shut him out.
"And there's something going on in the Middle East...someone famous died again...you got some fan mail, some of its pretty good...leave it on your table in case your lazy... a picture of you smoking weed in Paris...believe this weather..." the news of a picture of me smoking weed in Paris made me jump out of bed.
"Say that again?" I asked Steven
In my quick departure from my bed I had forgotten that I had decided to sleep naked last night. Steven was holding his hand in front of his face.
"Do you really have to sleep naked while I'm living in your apartment, Gerald? It's very inconsiderate! I was talking about the weather." He frowned at me from behind his hand, "Don't you ever listen to me?"
"No. I mean I do listen, but not about the weather. You said something about a picture." I reached for my bathrobe from behind Steven which awkwardly looked like I was making a move on him.
"Oh, yeah. The picture. It was pretty cool, had a very cryptic message written on the back though." I still couldn't reach my robe so I took another step closer to Steven. "Dude! Are you serious?! Hire a hooker if you're that desperate!" that made me laugh, something I hadn't done for a while.
"I just want my bathrobe." I grinned at his blushing face, hazel eyes peered between his fingers.
"You could have just asked, you know. That would have made things way less awkward." He still kept his hand covering his eyes, "I'll go get that picture, and you can get dressed."
Steven stepped out and I pulled on a black t-shirt and dark jeans. I met him at the kitchen table, where thousands of fan mail was spread out. Steven was still sifting through the masses when he grunted in triumph and pulled out a black and white photo. I knew it instantly. I was off center, the wet street behind me and a streetlight causing shadows to fall across my face. The end of the joint glowed and the plume of smoke from my lips spread skyward.
"That's beautiful, who took it?"
I smiled softly; fingering the little red lighter that I had made into a necklace, "Marilyn."
"Ah, then did she do this too?" he turned it over and an ugly, scrawling, red scribble read the words Frenchie is in Boulder.

Marilyn's POV:
"Emilie! Have you seen my picture of Gerald?" I called to the sleeping form of my roommate. She bolted upright, twisted in her sheets, and promptly fell to the floor with a shriek that was loud enough to wake the entire hall.
She dragged herself angrily from the sheets and fixed me with an angry glare, "What have I not seen?" she spat at my feet. I stepped over her to go to her desk, riffling through to try to find my picture of Gerald in Paris smoking a joint.
"My picture." I said pointedly
"Oh, nope have not seen that." Her fast reaction made me want to question her further. As I stepped towards her to continue that line of discussion though, a knock on our door interrupted us. I threw open the door with a harsh glare and an even harsher yelp from Emilie as she was only wearing her bedclothes.
"What is it?" I snapped at Jessie who was holding a brown package with Harry right behind him holding a pink package. Harry was Jessie's roommate, an exchange student from England he was the Harry Styles, taking a break from music in order to pursue his degree in Business. Emilie had taken one look at his wavy brown hair and vibrant green eyes and fell completely in love with him. It was an adorable puppy dog love that poor Harry was still oblivious too.
"Good morning to you too." Jessie said cheerfully, pulling me into a hug. I had learned quickly that hugs were just something Jessie did, and while sometimes my throat would still get tight and I would feel all shaky I mostly managed to hide the truth about why I didn't want to be touched beyond necessity.
"Bonjour, Jessie, Harry." I nodded to both of them as they entered the room, much too Emilie's embarrassment.
"Fell out of bed again, did you?" Harry asked politely of Emilie. She turned an unhealthy shade of scarlet and rushed out of the room only to pop back in and grab her toiletries bag and a towel before exciting again. I felt nervous to be alone with these two men and I pressed my palms together, trying not to shake.
"I got you a present, for your birthday." Harry said shyly. He handed me his pink package and I tore it open slowly. There was a packet of multi-colored pens inside with a cheesy homemade birthday card. I smiled and thanked him, awkwardly hugging him around the box in my hand. Jessie handed me his package then, I unwrapped it slowly knowing that it would be more personal. In the weeks that I had been in Boulder, these two had become mes doux amis my sweet friends. I pulled the string that held the box together and inside was a leather notebook, a map of the world in Latin was on both covers and it had a thong to tie it shut. It was the sweetest gift I had ever received.
I smiled up at Jessie, and he nervously rubbed his hands together. "Every good author should have a leather notebook, you know that." I hugged him, too. "C'mon Marilyn! We're going to be late for breakfast!" I grabbed my bag and stuck the notebook and pens inside of it and left with Harry and Jessie for breakfast, all thoughts of Gerald gone completely from my mind.