Page 57 of Host for the Holidays
The employee’s trivia cuts through our exchange. “ . . . when it’s windy, the top of the Eiffel Tower sways seven centimeters from side to side.” I look at Madi, but she’s not reacting.
Right. The lady is speaking in French.
Until she’s not. She starts the same information but in English this time. “The antenna was placed on the tower in 1957, increasing the height to 1,063 feet. When it’s windy—”
“Wait!” I say in French. If she keeps giving these little factoids, Madi may well sprint out of this elevator, and that would be a real shame.
The lady looks at me—as does everyone else. I try for a smile and speak to her in French. “Can you save the trivia for the top? Once the two of us get off?”
TWENTY-FOUR
MADI
Rémyand the elevator operator are talking back and forth in French, and I have no idea what’s going on. Most of the other people don’t either, based on the looks passing between them.
But I don’t have to speak French to know that the woman is delivering news to Rémy he doesn’t like. She does this little shrug that tells me she really doesn’t feel bad about whatever just happened. Did she turn him down for a date? Is she insane?
“As I was saying,” the woman continues in accented English, “when it is windy, the top of the Eiffel Tower sways seven centimeters.”
My heart stops. I’m currently dead, 674 steps above ground. I look at Rémy, who’s staring at the lady with an expression that makes me afraid for her. But not as afraid as I am for myself. Which is weird, because you’d think you couldn’t feel fear if you’re already dead.
“Seven centimeters,” I say, feeling just as breathless as I did when we were coming up all those dang steps. “That’s like, nothing, right? What, like, a quarter of an inch?” Why didn’t I pay attention when we learned metric conversions in school?
“It’s about three inches,” says the man next to us.
“Three inches?!” I squeak out. I mean, it sounds like a small amount, but something that sticks up this far from the earth should not move. At all.
“Thanks a lot,” Rémy says to the guy, and it’s clear that this man is now also on his blacklist.
The guy smiles unironically. “Three inches is nothing. The Burj Khalifa in Dubai sways four to five feet in the wind.”
Oddly, this little factoid does not help make me feel better.
Rémy’s jaw tightens like he’s trying to resist punching the guy in his trivia hole.
“This tower is basically Elastigirl,” I say.
The man who so kindly converted centimeters into inches for me leans a little closer. “It’s actually made out of puddle iron. Weighs 10,000 tons.”
Rémy gives the guy a look, and Factoid McTriviaman shrugs, then gets back to listening to the lady talk.
I look up at Rémy. “If it’s going to be tipping and bending all over the place, can it just drop me off at home right now?”
He smiles, and I’m suddenly more concerned about the safety of my heart than of my body. If he keeps this up, maybe I’ll be distracted enough not to notice how high we’re going—or that we’ll be swaying from side to side like a palm tree.
“Madi,” he says softly, “we can get off if you want. Right now. I’ll tell them I need to go to the bathroom or something.” He searches my eyes, and given our proximity, I’m thinking it’s a good thing I was never this close to him until now. A girl could disappear in those eyes, and I wouldloveto disappear right now.
“I really think you’ll love the top,” he says as a couple final stragglers get on the elevator, “but if it’s too much, just say the word. We can watch some YouTube videos of it at home. No big deal.”
It’s tempting. How different can experiencing the Eiffel Tower by YouTube be, really? I’d still be with Rémy, I’m sure we’d still be having fun, and I wouldn’t be making a complete fool of myself like I am here. If only I’d paid for the other stupid elevator instead of the stairs, the adrenaline from earlier wouldn’t have had time to wear out.
My phone buzzes with a text from Siena.
Siena:Don’t forget my picture!
Immediately after, I get a notification from Venmo. A hundred bucks with a little note:Madi’s Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle Paris Fun Fund.
The elevator lady is about to press the button to send us up into the atmosphere, but Rémy asks her to wait.
