put up with the harsh reality that his new wife was only eight years older than me, and I couldn’t handle it.”
I nod, waiting for the punchline. She paces a bit, gnawing on her finger and avoiding eye contact with me.
“It was beautiful there. Not as they make it out to be in the movies, but it had an ethereal beauty. Something you feel deep inside. Inspirational almost, thoughtless expression within your reach, you only had to grasp it.” As she describes it, I know melancholy is attached, and she’s just avoiding narrowing it down to words. I can see it in her struggle and the way she switches from biting her bottom lip to grinding her teeth. The tenseness of her jaw is present with her rapid breathing. I step toward her, wanting to offer comfort, but then immediately see the shift in her. The jolt as she nearly jumps out of her skin when I reach for her has me halting immediately.
“Please,” she implores. “Let me get this out.”
I nod, needing her to know I’ll keep my distance. “Talk, I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“Paris was everything I dreamed it would be. The art, the streetlamps... the food.” Her eyes lighten a tinge at the mention of food but fades just as quickly. “With its beauty came the dark. Like any other place on this planet, it had its downfalls.” She takes in a sharp breath, her eyes glossing again. God, what I’d do to hold her, reassure her, breathe safety into her disarmed bones.
“I’d just had a croissant from this little shop. It was golden, flakey, and delicious.” She chuckles lightly, and I watch as it fades to a sad, unimpressed smile. “No one makes croissants like the French...” Her eyes well with tears. They topple over, and my heart fucking breaks at the moment she stares at me with hopelessness. She cries as I watch from afar, unwilling to allow me to barge into her space. Space is something imperative at this moment, my gut pushing a pin into the problem, screaming, “Someone hurt her!” It knows—I know—and it fucking hurts feeling this helpless.
“It was early—five in the morning. I remember everything about that day so clearly. The coffee I’d been sipping with the croissant, taking it with me when I left. Hazelnut. Bitter but sweet at the same time. The day—dark but promising, little spurs of pink drifting over the horizon, waiting for the sun’s kiss, stuck on its lover, waiting more patiently like no man could be. The beige beret I wore, the wool cardigan, the plaid red, black, and white scarf. The black Vans, pleated black skirt, and leggings.” She huffs and sobs at recalling the memory. Fuck. I just want to ebb away this burden she carries. I want to kill the fucker who hurt her and make it all go away.
“To get to the flat my dad paid for me to stay in, I had to travel across several dank alleys, two of which I knew weren’t exactly safe.” She knots her hands together, her eyes shutting, but she doesn’t pause for long. “It didn’t have many rays of light, shielded by shadows. I knew, like my soul, it’d brighten with time. It took me only a few breaths to realize that day would be bad. Almost like an acrid odor or taste, I could sense it. I trailed the alleyway, holding my coffee to keep the breeze from chilling me.” Her eyes stare at the ground, focusing too hard, hating whatever came next. “I smelled him before I registered his grip on my wrist.”
I close my eyes, my stomach concaving with what she’s about to say. I already know. It makes me sick, bile rising, promising to release with so many words. It hits me, the scars, the ones I’ve loved and cherished, the ones I’ve touched and kissed, they’re from pain. They’re a mirror of what she feels because that man took from her.
“He smelled like an ashtray. Stale. Piss-poor. A grungy, disgusting and vile man. The harsh scent infiltrated my nose as his grubby hand wrapped around me, forcing me to the brick building on the east side of the alley. The meek scream that left me did no good because his palm covered it easily.” She cringes, her body scrunching in displeasure. “His fist connected with my face as I struggled, and I remember thinking, I wish I was bigger, taller... a man because he was too