I spent plenty of time with Jean-Pierre. There was so much to see and do in Marseilles. One weekend was special though. As a treat, for not speaking English or asking him to translate for a month, Jean-Pierre had a wonderful surprise for me. A weekend in Paris! I had been dying to go for several months and now was my chance to see the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre.
Jean-Pierre borrowed his cousin’s car and we made the 6-hour drive on Thursday afternoon. We stopped for a quick bite to eat before arriving at a chateau just outside of Paris. The tiny cottage belonged to a family friend of Jean-Pierre’s. He used it a few times a year to get away from school.
Much to our surprise, Marcel was at the chateau! He didn’t know we were going to be there that weekend but the situation was easy to sort out. The chateau had a few bedrooms and Marcel was planning on spending the weekend just sorting his thoughts. While we weren’t going to have the privacy we wished for, it would be interesting to get to know Marcel.
Marcel had a reputation for loving and leaving the ladies. Very much a male version of me. It annoyed me beyond irritation so the first couple of days, there were a few arguments between myself and Marcel. I felt naked and very exposed under his stare. I begged Jean-Pierre for us to stay in a hotel. Of course he refused. He didn’t want me spending my money on his because this weekend was his trip. I didn’t realize that Jean-Pierre had friends in Paris. One of them was throwing a party in his honor Friday evening.
I was intimidated meeting all of Jean-Pierre’s friends. They ignored me for the most part, given their distaste for Americans. Americans think the French are rude but it’s the other way around. I sat on the couch for a while, looking very uncomfortable until someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Marcel. I gave him a small smile as he pushed a drink in my hand. It smells like whiskey but I didn’t care. I downed it in one swallow, savoring the burn in my throat. I felt so out of place that I needed something to soothe my nerves. Jean-Pierre was in another room, entertaining the crowd with conversation. Marcel poured me another drink, then took my hand to lead me out on to the terrace.
“Mon amie, why do we argue so frequently?” Asked Marcel.
“I don’t know. But it annoys me,” I replied. I wasn’t about to tell him there was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way.
“I like you. I find you very beautiful.”
I didn’t know what to say. Me and beautiful were rarely put in the same sentence and to hear it from Marcel, was disarming. Maybe I could learn to like him and be his friend.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip of my drink.
I’m not a big drinker so halfway through my second drink, I was feeling pretty good. Marcel stared into my eyes in silence before reaching out to touch my face. I closed my eyes and melted into his soft touch.
“Mon amie, may I kiss you?
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