Page 84 of Caleb
She turns around and leans back against the door, biting her lower lip. “I don’t think that’s up to you to decide.”
“Annette, I’m sorry—”
“Please stop.” She raises a hand in front of her face and shuts her eyes for a few seconds. “I’m humiliated enough as it is.”
“Don’t go to New York,” I dare to say. “Get your fresh start like you said, here—in Paris.”
“Please don’t make things harder than they already are,” she says as if almost to herself, her gaze dropping to the floor.
“At least I’ll know I tried.”
“I tried too.” She smiles a sad smile and places a soft kiss on my lips that lingers too dangerously long. But she pulls away before I have to be the one to do it. She grabs the door handle and opens the door. “Goodbye,garçon.”
And I know she means forever. But I can’t do it. I can’t stay in Paris. Everything reminds me of Red. Annette would remind me of her too. And it would be too painful. We wouldn’t work.
I know I need to start over, go back to Israel and just … find someone who isn’t her.
The Lucky Guy
April 11, 2009
I’VE ACCEPTED MY FATElike a death row inmate probably does at some point before their execution. There’s nothing else I can do, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that this is the end of an era. I’ll take some great memories back to Israel with me. Even if Annette is not talking to me anymore. Even if all I want to do is keep looking after Red.
But work will keep me busy. Aaron’s got a few interviews lined up for me next week. Two in Tel Aviv and one in Jerusalem. To say I’m thrilled would be an overstatement, but I’m thankful for his support. I need to land one of those jobs as soon as possible.
I change into my gym clothes, brush my teeth, and throw water on my face as I contemplate my reflection in the mirror, gathering as much courage as possible to get through this day. To do what needs to be done and say what needs to be said.
Red and I are going out for our last run, and she doesn’t even know it. I’ve decided to talk to her after her surprise party is over. Call me chicken, but I like to think of myself as cautious. And I know something will break and get ruined when I give her the news, but I couldn’t risk it being her birthday. She deserves to have fun today.
Red just texted me to let me know she’s out in the garden, so I head over there to meet her. She’s sitting on one of the bench swings with her eyes closed, soaking in the morning sun. Not only does she look beautiful, but she seems at peace. A peace that I’ll disturb later today, and I can’t help but hate myself for it.
But the show must go on.
Red opens her eyes as if sensing my approach. She stands and rushes my way with a big smile on her face, one I easily echo. This simple gesture melts me.
“Happy Birthday, Red!” I say excitedly. Confident. Like everything’s okay. “Get in here!” I hug her and linger in the embrace longer than I probably should, but I can’t make myself care about those subtleties right now. Not today.
“Thank you.”
The sweet smell of her invades my senses.
“Ready to go, birthday girl?”
She nods and offers me a smile.
Aaron is waiting by the car. When we approach him, he immediately hugs Red and wishes her a happy birthday too. It’s funny to see how Red has the power to disarm his tough exterior. But that’s what she does. I have been “disarmed” for a while now.
We walk past the gate, and Aaron pulls out the car. We’re settling into a comfortable jog and following the usual route until we’re finally running in comfortable silence.
Once we’re headed back, Red detours us into Tuileries again and leads us to the Bassin Octagonal, so I make sure to inform Aaron about our current location. We find a couple of chairs and take a seat. Her pulling me aside to talk on our last day in Paris couldn’t be more perfect.
“How does it feel to not be a teen anymore?” I ask to get the conversation going. Not that I need to do it. We’ve never had trouble finding something to talk about, but I can tell there’s a lot on her mind.
She smiles.
“You tell me, old man,” she says, her comment prompting me to wet my fingers on the fountain and sprinkle her face. She’s trying to take cover behind her hands. “Truce!” We both laugh, and I stop. “Ready for New York?”
Shit.
