Page 18 of Forgiving Paris
“Soon I began breaking into my mother’s house and stealing things, whatever I could pawn for a few francs so I could get more of the drug. Finally… I broke more than the window. I broke her heart. She called the police and changed the locks on our small flat.
“I ran through the night feeling lost and alone. I could never go back home, and I couldn’t survive till morning without more of the drug.” She shook her head. “That night… I overdosed. I was with my friend when it happened, and somehow a police officer came upon us. He had Narcan.” She looked at Jessie. “I’ve heard of it.” Jessie nodded. “It reverses the effects of a heroin overdose.”
“Yes. Anyway, when I woke up, I was in a hospital bed and the nurse told me the bad news. My friend Benji was dead. He had asked the officer to help me… instead of him. So there I was, alive and pregnant. And it was my friend’s baby.”
Jessie’s expression was frozen. Like she could hardly believe any of this. “I can’t imagine… how hard that must have been.”
“I got help and eventually I got a job at a boulangerie… a bakery.” Alice hadn’t told the story in years. The worst part was just ahead. “Even then, all I wanted was the drug. Every hour. Every day. It called my name and screamed at me to go back to the homeless tents near the Seine. At least then I could have peace.” She looked at Gabriel. “The baby inside me stopped me from doing that. But still I fought my addiction with every breath.”
“It’s okay, Mère.” Gabriel’s tone was protective, the way it often was with her. “You don’t have to tell this part.”
“I don’t mind.” She felt the hint of a smile on her lips. “It’s in the past.” She turned to Jessie again. “I came up with a plan to end my life. I was going to jump off the Pont du Garigliano—the highest bridge along the Parisstretch of the Seine. It’s eleven meters above the shallow water.”
“That’s more than thirty-six feet.” The look on Jessie’s face said she understood. A person couldn’t survive a jump like that.
“But that day I came to work and there was a new girl behind the counter. She… she was pregnant, like me. We went for a walk after work, and we talked about our stories. The girl was angry at her family and angry at God. But she was sure about one thing.” Alice smiled. “Babies deserve to live.”
“Mmm.” Paul took her hand. “I love when you say that. It is the most lovely truth.”
“Yes, it is.” She drew a sharp breath. “The conversation we had that day, it saved my life.”
Jessie’s eyes were watery. “That… that’s beautiful.”
“Things changed after that. I went home and apologized to my mother. I worked long shifts and had my baby.” She grinned at Gabe. “And he turned out to be the best son any mother could ever have.”
Paul nodded. “Also, true.” He looked at Gabriel then at Alice. “I met Alice years later and over a single cup of coffee I knew I was home. I never looked anywhere else again.”
“We married a year after we met, and Paul has always been Gabriel’s father.” Alice looked at Jessie. “Redemption from brokenness.” She took a moment. “I always wanted to find that girl, the one who talked me into choosing life. For both me and my baby. But my next shift back at the boulangerie, she was gone. I never found her.”
Jessie set her napkin on the table and asked just one question. “What was the woman’s name, the one from the bakery?”
“I’ve tried to remember her whole name, but it never comes to me. All I can recall is her first name.” Alice picked up her fork.
Gabriel turned to Jessie. “The young woman’s first name was Ashley.” He smiled. “Just like your aunt.”
Alice felt a slight skip in her heart. “Your aunt, the artist from Indiana… her name is Ashley?”
“Yes.” Jessie looked at Alice. “You don’t think…”
“No.” Alice uttered a sad laugh. “There’s a thousand Americans wanting to be artists in Paris.”
“True.” Jessie shook her head. “And my aunt wasn’t here very long.”
“Anyway… enough of my story.” Alice stood and grinned at her family and Jessie. “Who wants dessert?”
Somehow the question seemed to break the intensity of the moment, and everyone laughed. The heaviness faded as Alice went to the kitchen and dished up her homemade apple tarte. But she was sure of one thing. After tonight, Jessie would forever be more than a casual friend.
She would be family.
7
The pressure made it hard for Ashley to breathe. In ten minutes they were boarding an early morning flight to New York City’s John F. Kennedy Airport and from there a second plane to Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. She had to get her breathing under control.
Ashley stared out the window at the streaky sunrise painting the sky. Was she crazy, going back to Paris? It wasn’t just the terrible things she had done there, it was the danger she had been in. The pieces of her past she still hadn’t told anyone. Paris was the last place she wanted to be. Better to put Paris and what happened there forever behind her. Hadn’t she always wanted that?
She should’ve told the gallery owner no.
But now there was no turning back. To make matters worse she’d had the most terrible nightmare a few nights ago. An absolutely awful dream.
