Chapter 8

It was the beginning of a new, magical chapter in Susan’s life. She had it all, it seemed. It was as if everything had perfectly aligned the moment she had regained her sight. First the coffee shop, then her own place, and now, Paul Brennan. Though everything seemed perfect, there was something about him that felt out of place. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but she knew there was something he wasn’t telling her, and a part of her tried to hold back for the inevitable bombshell that she felt certain would come.

Instead, things continued like any normal couple. They spent warm summer days in the park, watching as the summer leaves began to darken and eventually fall from the trees. It seemed like no time until they were sitting on the bench, watching people go by in the cooler days that told them winter was on the way.

“What do you think their story is?” Susan asked idly as an elderly couple sat feeding pigeons on a nearby bench.

“I think they are having a torrid affair. They come to this park and feed the pigeons and then they duck behind into the trees and get it on, but carefully – she might break a hip,” Paul observed.

“Paul! You’re horrible. They must be eighty years old.” Susan laughed, playfully hitting him on the arm.

“Yes, but look how sweet they are. Don’t you want to spend your life with someone that you will still be coming to the park with when you are ancient and wrinkled? I bet you are going to be one beautiful old woman someday,” he said, looking at her with a thoughtful expression.

“I doubt that, Paul. No woman thinks she’s attractive when she starts getting wrinkles. My mother obsesses about hers constantly,” she told him. “Of course, the good thing is that wrinkles will maybe hide all these hideous little scars around my eyes.”

Paul brushed her hair away from her face and pulled her toward him, kissing each eye on the lid and around the corners before pulling away and looking down at her with a smile.

“You don’t need to hide those. They do nothing at all to detract from your beauty,” he said.

“Sweet talker,” she responded, though her heart was pounding. He always said the right things, in the right way.

“Yes,” he told her, reaching for her hand and holding it until a big yellow dog came by and stopped to wag her tail at him, attempting to climb into his lap.

“No, Stella! Get down,” a petite blonde woman barked at the dog, trying to pull her away.

“She’s okay. If you don’t mind…” he responded.

“Your choice,” the woman said, and Susan felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Who was this woman, and why was her dog so friendly with Paul? Was she the Miranda he had spoken of when he was drunk? She was older and very attractive. Susan suddenly felt uncomfortable as Paul sat playing with the dog.

“Do you want to pet her, Susan? She’s a ham, loves everyone,” he told her.

Susan nodded awkwardly, and Paul sensed that she was uncomfortable, letting go of the dog and thanking the woman for letting him interrupt their walk for a moment. He watched them walk away for a moment with a sad expression and then turned back to Susan, who felt like she might explode.

“What’s wrong, Susan? Are you okay? I’m sorry. Are you allergic to dogs?” he asked innocently, not understanding her reaction.

“No. You seemed to know her and her owner quite well,” Susan observed.

“Oh, I see. Are you jealous?” he asked with a slow smile, only infuriating her that much more.

“I am not jealous. I am just wondering why you didn’t bother to introduce us,” she said.

“Well, I could have, but Stella really only understands a few words of English. Introductions would have been lost on her, I’m afraid,” he said.

“Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated, Paul. You know what I meant,” she said.

“You are cute when you are angry,” he replied, smirking a little.

“You know what? I’m going home. You can stay here in the park with your two blonde girls,” Susan said, bolting up from the bench and heading down the sidewalk.

“Hey, hey, wait. I’m just teasing you,” he said, catching up with her on the sidewalk. “I didn’t introduce you because it was a little awkward.”

“Oh? Ex-girlfriend got the dog in the split?” Susan said. She realized he hadn’t said or acted inappropriately toward the woman, only the dog, and that it was ridiculous to be jealous of a golden retriever, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling hurt.

“No. The woman’s name is Gabrielle. She’s a dog walker. Stella is my dog,” he told her.

“What? You’ve never said anything about having a dog. We come to the park all the time. Why do you not ever walk her?” Susan asked, bewildered that she was just now learning of this dog’s existence.

“It’s a long story, but I used to. I just have a lot of other things going on now, so I hired Gabrielle to walk her for me. I take her out for shorter walks at night sometimes, you know, to do her business and stuff, and sometimes I rent a convertible where we can let the wind blow through our ears and play frisbee on the beach,” he told her.

“I just think it’s strange that you’ve never mentioned her,” Susan repeated, but she dismissed it as something he just hadn’t thought of and let it go.

“Well, now you know. There is a beautiful blonde in my life named Stella, and she’s been around for a few years. I hope that you can accept being the other woman,” he told her.

“I guess I can live with it. What choice do I have, after all?” Susan replied with a sheepish smile, somewhat ashamed that she had gotten so jealous without letting him explain.

They continued their walk to her coffee shop, which was closed, but they let themselves in and made a couple of quick lattes for the walk home. All was forgiven by the time they made it back to her place and settled in to watch an old black and white movie on cable.

“I’ve got a vacation planned for next week, so I won’t be in town. Mom and Dad will be watching the shop,” she told him over dinner several weeks later. Though she had spoken of her parents to Paul from time to time, she had yet to bring him to meet them. Part of it was that no promises had been made between them and she didn’t want to push meeting the family on him if this was just a summer fling or rebound for him. Another part of her just wasn’t ready to let go of that whole Daddy’s little girl image her father had of her. Bringing home a lover would change that forever.

“Oh? Where are you going?” he asked, looking concerned for some reason.

“Paris, France,” she said with a large smile.

“Wow. All by yourself?” he probed.

“Yes, all by myself. I plan to be every bit of the American tourist and check out all of the landmarks and museums, eat until I have to buy new pants, and speak what French I can remember from high school,” she told him.

“Vous êtes belle, mon amour,” he responded in what sounded to her like perfect diction.

“Thank you. I find you quite attractive, as well,” she responded, not so much flattered by his calling her beautiful as she was excited that he had called her his love.

“You aren’t going to get very far if people speak to you in French, but you respond to them in English,” he laughed.

“Je vais être très bien, monsieur,” she said, her words a little slow to form as she scrunched up her face to remember them.

“I know you will be fine, but I will miss you. How long will you be gone?” he asked.

“Just a week. I’d like to stay longer, but it is expensive, and I don’t want to put my parents out too much by leaving them here for too long. They spent enough hours in this place before they turned it over to me,” she responded. “They aren’t happy about me going alone, but they will be fine.”

“They might be, but I don’t know that I will,” he told her.

“You will be fine, too. It is only a week,” she said with a smile as she reached over to put her hand on his.

“How would you feel about my going with you?” he asked.

“What?” Susan’s heart pounded against her chest. A week in Paris with him? That would be the most divine thing she could imagine.

“I want to go with you. We could see Paris together. I’ve been there several times and could be your tour guide,” he said.

“Oh, I see. You jet off to France with all your women then?” she replied, feeling a little disenchanted with the idea now.

“Nope, not a one, unless you count my mother. We went there several times when I was a teen. I haven’t been in years, so I can show you all the stuff that always stays the same. I doubt that the Eiffel Tower has moved. We could discover all the new things together,” he said. She could see that he seemed excited about the idea and she was thrilled.

“Well, in that case, I would love for you to go to Paris with me. Paris est pour des amants, disent-ils,” she told him.

“Yes, I’ve heard that, too, and we are lovers, so we must belong there,” he replied. “Est-ce un oui?”

“Yes, that is a yes. It’s a definite yes!” she almost squealed.