Standing On A Chair

Telling it like I see it…

Stories from the Chair: My One-legged Lover in Paris – Part Eight

The next morning there was a long breakfast with Sarah and Lang and the others, who tossed around a bunch of I-told-you-so’s and chewed our butts for being such idiots.  Not even my bruised and painful jaw and scraped knees and elbows elicited much sympathy from them.  I remember Lang going into the historical details of altercations and relations between the French and the Algerians, at which point I had to admit to these smart young students that I had slept through most of my World History classes in the eleventh grade.  And honestly, all I really cared about at that moment was my afternoon date to meet Chris at Champs-Élysées Park 

Okay, I lied about the name of the park.  Because I forgot the real name.  Even when I Googled “small parks in Paris,” nothing rang a bell, so Champs-Élysées Park it shall remain.

The March day was overcast and pretty chilly, which was a problem for me because I’d left my only coat behind at the nightclub, and there was no way in hell I was going to go back to that place ever again, so I pretty much shivered my ass off during the six-block walk to the park.  Combine that with the fact that I was nervous and excited, and you come up with a quivering, teeth-chattering female with a swollen, black and blue right jaw who is also turning blue from the cold and isn’t that a fabulous way to present oneself to one’s new date?

I spotted a tall, six-tiered water fountain, and on one of the benches, there he sat, his long legs jutting out into the walking path, crossed at the ankles.  I stood there for a minute before approaching, just so I could get a really good look at him first.  This was the boy who saved me, who was a singer, an American living in Paris who spoke fluent French, and who was so damn cute I almost couldn’t stand it. 

He stared silently at the fountain, seemingly mesmerized, when I appeared before him, which jolted him upright, whereupon he gave me a big smile and a modest hug hello.

Then we sat together on that bench, looked into each other’s faces, and said nothing.  We didn’t need to.  Because so much was said between us without words.  The physical magnetism was so strong it throbbed, and when he reached out and gently touched my mauled jaw, my heart damn near jumped out of my chest.  I mean, here we sat in this beautiful little park filled with big beautiful trees and bright flowers starting to bloom, and rolling grassy knolls, with lots of people strolling around, and yet for us…as virtual strangers who knew nothing about each other…the rest of the world just fell away and all that existed now was him, and me, and the bench we sat on.

Finally, he said, “You’re freezing.”

Yes, of course he took off his brown leather jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders.

“I had to leave my coat behind at the club last night, Chris.”

“Well then let me walk you to this boutique I like, and I’ll get you a new one.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

He wrapped his arm around me tightly as we walked slowly out of the park, and I remember stopping and turning around to take a last look at the bench, which now was a symbol of powerful feelings never before felt.

When we soon stopped at a cross walk, I wondered again about that slight limp I noticed.  Then his tall self looked down at me and asked, “Do you like music?”

“I love music.”

“Let me tell you about this young new artist.  Actually, it is a songwriting team.  From England.  Elton John and Bernie Taupin.  Ever hear of them?”

“No. Never.”

“They’ve not hit the scene in America yet.  But they will soon.  Fantastic talent.  All original stuff.  I just bought their first album.  Norbert, my agent, had to pull strings, the thing sold out so quickly.”

“I need to hear this,” I said. 

“You will,” he said with a smile.  “I’ll play it for you.”

He hugged me close to him as we crossed the narrow street in this enchantingly beautiful and romantic city, and I felt such joy and exhilaration, I remember thinking, could it possibly get any better than this?

The answer was yes

And it did.

Stay Tuned for Part Nine

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May 15, 2012 - Posted by | Foreign Travel | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

3 Comments »

  1. The BEST so far! I love this and LOVE LOVE LOVE that I know you – a writer -like I not only went to school with but have been bosom buddies with
    a famous person for God’s sake!

    Comment by gerinomad | May 15, 2012 | Reply

  2. You’re killing me!!! I love it! Best story yet!!

    Comment by Terry | May 15, 2012 | Reply

  3. Keep ’em coming…they just get better and better!!!

    Comment by Linda Maloly | May 16, 2012 | Reply


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