Paris no more

Right after work I drove downtown and met Blaine at his office. There was an art exhibition we wanted to go to at a gallery that is only open late on Fridays.

I called him as I was arriving and we met in the lobby of his building. The timing worked out well because he didn’t have time to go to his car to shed his jacket and tie. Later, on the way to the restaurant, he would but that even worked out because he rolled his sleeves up to the good part of the forearm, the other look that gives me a little flutter.

Aside from Blaine, there was much to admire at the gallery. The exhibition featured regionalist artists. The more I see of this period and style, the more I want to see. There were a couple of drawings by Thomas Hart Benton that were so intricate we spent a long time studying them until we felt reasonably certain we hadn’t overlooked a detail. Blaine and I are both unencumbered by actual knowledge of art which makes us well suited to viewing it together.

It was getting close to closing by the time we made it to the third floor. We had just stepped into the gallery when I saw my cousin’s daughter and her husband. During a hello hug, I asked what they were doing in town. They live a little over an hour away.

“Your post on Facebook gave us the idea to come here,” Jenny said.

“Date night,” Andrew added.

“Us too,” I said. I introduced them to Blaine using “boyfriend” almost naturally. Both were surprised and an “oh wow” and a “‘bout time” slipped out.

I told Blaine that Jenny was a talented artist. Her nature forced her to downplay it. “You,” she said to me. “I didn’t realize you liked art so much. Guess I should have pieced that together based on all the museums you’ve been to. Paris alone gives you art cred.” I laughed at that and pointed out that museums let anyone in.

Andrew’s phone interrupted with an alert reminding them they needed to get going if they were going to make their dinner reservations. We needed to do the same and walked out with them.

“Blaine,” Jenny said, “it was great to meet you. I hope we’ll being seeing more of you.” She gave me a sidelong glance. I nodded and he said he hoped so too. The next non-holiday family gathering won’t be until late February so...

Blaine and I had reservations at the French-American restaurant we like so well. The food is good but the atmosphere is why we go so often. It’s one of the few restaurants that doesn’t require shouting to be heard.

After we received the wine and placed our order, Blaine asked, “Does this look like the restaurants in Paris?”

For a heartbeat, I froze. I had hoped to forever avoid what I’ve viewed as a slippery slope of a topic. Still, I knew it would come up at some point. I didn’t expect this to be how it came up.

As far as I remember, while in Paris we went to two comparable restaurants. I recall very little about either one. We went to the first one about an hour after my then-boyfriend had broken up with me. A day or two later we went to the second, and he had spent the meal on his phone emailing or texting (can’t remember if that was a thing yet) with the woman he’d dumped me for. All I remember are white linen tablecloths and real silverware. “Yeah, it would definitely fit in.”

“Did you like Paris?”

It’s sort of like asking Mrs. Lincoln how she’d liked the play, but he didn’t know that. “Yes,” I said automatically. It’s the only acceptable response. Had I gone to Toledo I may have gotten away with something more honest, but if you go to Paris it’s expected that you speak of it with awe. Instead of that, I added what I always do to explain a lack of enthusiasm. “I was there in March and it was during an unusual cold snap. It rained or snowed most days. Nothing was blooming yet, and it is a city that should be seen in the spring or summer when the parks and gardens are growing. That aside, it’s still amazing. Nothing diminishes Notre Dame or the Arc de Triomphe.”

“The Eiffel Tower,” he added for me.

“That too.” It was a lie, though. Getting dumped in Paris does diminish the Eiffel Tower. Although it was low on my list of must-sees, it unexpectedly brought out a lot of emotion when I stood in line at the base waiting for the elevator. I suppose the symbolism of it representing love while I was being made to feel I didn’t rate basic kindness hit me hard. I wasn’t in love. A little bit earlier in the relationship I had wondered if we were on that road, but even then I saw it as a long road. If I was upset about love, it was due to believing, at that moment, that I was and would always be unlovable.

“You went to museums, I take it.”

“The Louvre and Musee D'orsay. Didn’t get to see all of either unfortunately.” I took a sip of wine. “After a week in Paris we went to Nice for a week. We visited the Chagall and Matisse museums there.”

“Sounds like a good trip.”

Ignoring that, I offered, “Nice has a small piece of my heart. It’s indescribably beautiful. It was also sunny and warm, which was a welcome change.”

“Were you with Mica?”

I shook my head, replied matter-of-factly, “I went with my boyfriend.”

From the way Blaine was looking at me, with one of his focused gazes, I was pretty sure he was trying to find what was between the lines. “Sounds romantic.”

Well, here we go, I thought. Past Significant Relationship aka How’d You Get Those Emotional Scars. I had a split second to decide between deflecting and being straightforward. There was no question about which way I wanted to go with him.

“Sounds can be deceiving,” I smiled. “He broke up with me the first night. He had met someone else, had been seeing her on the sly. He missed her too much to keep her a secret any longer.”

“Jesus.”

“You could say it was a romance killer,” I smiled again. Blaine didn’t smile.

“That was the first night? You spent two weeks with him after that?”

I nodded, shrugged but didn’t elaborate further. I had felt trapped. He spoke French, understood the trains and had made all the travel arrangements. This was before regular people had smartphones, and I hadn’t even brought my cell phone on the trip since he’d added a SIM card to his. I made the best of it because it seemed like the most sensible option. “On the bright side,” I said, “most vacations end too quickly. This one felt like it went on for an eternity.” Still, he didn’t smile.

“Were you in separate rooms at least?”

I shook my head. “I tried but we were staying at small hotels and none had extra rooms available.”

And that’s when I heard Blaine use the F-word for the first time. It made me laugh. So against character. It was weirdly reassuring to know he has it in him and perversely sweet that he used it as an adjective for my ex.

“I ended up with an unusual vacation story to tell so it wasn’t a total loss.” I smiled yet again, trying to convey this was no longer a big deal. Blaine still wasn’t returning a smile.

He held the stem of his wine glass and turned the base. After a couple of moments, he asked, “Is he why you stopped dating?” I blinked, surprised. He said Eve had told him after I kept ducking her invitations to go to things where I could meet him. I remember telling her I didn’t date anymore as a way to discourage her from wanting to set me up. When she had asked why, I told her I had reached a point where I felt something break and knew it wasn’t for me anymore. I didn’t tell her about Paris or anything about my ex. It isn’t a story I ever share with people I know.

To answer his question, I said no. “It actually made me determined to date as much as possible, so I placed an online personal as soon as I got home.” I was all about making suspect emotional choices. “The couple of guys I went out with were the reason I gave up dating. They weren’t bad people but they were wrong for me. Something just broke--I knew I’d had enough. It wasn’t a big deal. It was the right thing for me.” It had actually been a great thing for me.

The waitress brought our meals and then returned with second glasses of wine. For a little while we focused on the food, then Blaine asked, “Given your decision to stop dating, I’ve often wondered why you decided to date me. I assume it was because of Eve at first. You continued to say yes though. I hope that isn’t because of Eve.” He was taking great care in buttering a piece of bread. I’ve always liked Nervous Blaine.

This was an easy answer. “Just as I felt something break, when I began spending time with you I felt a click as if something was slipping into the right space.”

Now he smiled.