Thursday August 18th, 1988
My suit cases are still packed and there are still travelers checks stuffed in a secret pocket of my purse. I think JP believes me when I tell him he drank most of our money away. I’m not telling him otherwise. I don’t know if the money I have is enough to get me on a train heading anywhere away from him, but I feel better having it in my purse. It’s my secret.
I tried to get him to take me to the airport the next day. He refused. He kept saying that it would look bad to his parents and family. I have yet to figure out why my leaving would look worse then him abandoning his wife for the day while he came home plastered falling drunk. But I am a stupid bitch and I just need to know my place.
That place is in the passenger seat starring out the side window watching the scenery flying by as we head towards Paris, France. In the movies, when a man is taking his woman to Paris, the woman always looks happy. She always looks like the luckiest woman in the world. Excited and full of joy and anticipation. I don’t feel like that type of woman right now. I am sad. I want to go home. Yet, going home has been made very clear to me as something that will not happen.
We drive to meet with Christophe and Sabine. The same people that spent months in my house with me being invisible. Is it possible for me to be excited to see them? I am full of apprehension. I know I will sit and listen to them talking and sit some more while they drink and sit some more while they eat and sit some more while they talk even more. Most all of which I will not be able to understand. I am, however, getting quite good at understanding when they are talking about me. Again, it’s the body language and tone of voice that changes. The sly little glances that they give me.
I keep seeing all these lace shops in all the town’s. I wonder if someone could teach me. At least then I could have something to do while I sat and waited for them to finish talking. Or maybe they could throw me a topic every once in a while so I at least knew what we were talking about. I’m not quite sure when they laugh if they are laughing about someone crossing the road or if I have spinach in my teeth!
Christophe opened a crepe shop in a small town outside of Paris. It’s cute and has American license plates all over the walls. Where in the world did he get that many license plates? He wants us to send him more. JP told him we would. I sat there when he told me we were going to send them to him and almost objected. Almost that is till I realized that JP thought I had Christophe’s address and I knew for a fact I did not, since it was on the piece of paper I had just thrown away. This would be the last time I may just have to see them. Besides, I am not stealing license plates for someone in France so they can hang them on a wall!
I am again sitting in the passenger seat of the small fiat flying down the road. We are for sure heading toward Paris, France. It is getting dark and JP keeps talking about this park he wants to take me to. I am tired and while I would love to go to a park, wouldn’t the morning be better? Why do we have to go right now?
We stop for dinner at a small café. The waiter places us in the seat next to another couple. They look at us and then continue talking. We look over the menu and as usual I lean over and ask JP to order for me. What does everything mean? What would I like? He is explaining it to me and the people next to us look over again and start talking to each other. JP stops talking and looks at me. I ask him what? But he shoo’s me, order’s our meals in English which strikes me as odd. For the remainder of the dinner we don’t talk. He has a smile on his face and while I know something is up and it has to do with the people sitting next to us. I don’t know what it is. Till we get up to leave. JP pays the bill, puts a tip on the table and in French speaks to the waiter with what sounds like a thank you for the service. He talks louder then he usually does and I am puzzled. Puzzled till I see the look of embarrassment on the couples faces next to us.
JP smiling ear to ear explains to me as we were leaving that when the couple heard we were speaking English they must have thought we didn’t understand French. The man started to talk to his supposed girlfriend about all the things he wanted to do to her once they got home. Apparently in very good detail. From the look of the woman’s face once she realized at least one of us did indeed understand everything he was saying to her, I was embarrassed for her.
We get back in the car and head out to the park I am supposed to see. As we drive up into a dark area with little lights I am beginning to believe that I was raised in a cave. Here I am sitting in the passenger seat being told to look out the window and watch and all along I am trying to figure out what it is I am supposed to be seeing. It’s dark outside. I see people standing around talking but….
Oh my goodness they are not talking! Once again I amazed into embarrassment by what my husband thinks would be good for his wife to see. He pulls up to a woman and tells me to talk to her. I don’t understand, nor do I want to. As she is approaching my side of the window, he is still refusing to drive away. She is wearing a jacket and high heals and nothing else. I am backing up in my seat nearly into the back seat of the car, literally, I am screaming for him to drive away. JP is laughing!
This man has taken his wife to a hooker park. I draw the line! He is laughing and hanging out the window talking to these woman and I am huddled into a ball in the passenger seat with my head buried in my lap. “Take me to the hotel” I say over and over. I later find out that this is a famous park known for this. It is not just a chance that it happened. He planned this. Bois de Boulogne is a known place to pick up hookers at night.
I may just have to burn my eye ball’s right now.
He doesn’t seem to understand how offended I am by this. He dismisses me telling me I am to uptight, a cold fish and I need to lighten up. Maybe he is right. What is wrong with me not wanting to see that? Why am I so offended by it, and upset that my own husband would take me to a place like this and wanting me to talk to these woman?
The thoughts of my world and the thoughts of his world are not making sense! We are not living on the same page.
Saturday August 20th, 1988
I have stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower! For those that haven’t, it’s really bigger then it looks. I have eaten croissants for breakfast and watched people that are to drunk for words stumble across streets and into traffic. I have had people blow cigarette smoke directly in my face once they found out I was American. I have seen woman not wearing enough clothing and I have seen woman that really need to shave or wear long sleave shirts! I have seen enough of Paris that’s for sure.
We are back in Belgium. I sit here in the park of the Citadel, Quentin and JP are playing and I am watching them. I am jealous. I want a child so bad of our own that it hurts to see them playing together. I know we have problems but wouldn’t a child fix those? JP would have to grow up and be more responsible once I was pregnant. You see that in movies all the time. The party animal man learns he is having a child coming and turns towards daddy mode. It’s just natural to happen.
JP asks me what is wrong, I am sulking a bit and I just blurt it out. “I want to have a baby”.
I can hear him sigh as he is leaning behind me as I am sitting on the grass. In his accent he tells me “If that’s what you want them I’m OK with trying when we get home.”
“Really?” I am beaming. Really? Is all I can keep saying. I am excited! I have forgotten about being left for hours, being driven by naked woman and the list of other countless snips we had during the trip. I want a baby so desperately. In my heart I just know this will bring us together. It has to.
We start our journey home tomorrow. Everything will be better tomorrow.
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