15
Meet Cute
July 11 - Afternoon
Central Paris
In the early-afternoon sun,the water of the Seine took on a bluish-green cast, rippled by the light wind and the boats that churned along, crossed under bridges, and headed someplace else. I crossed over to the other side of the river so I had a better view of the Eiffel Tower, feeling a sense of fate as I walked closer to it.
There was no alternate story. Maddox and I had flirted for three years, and soon we’d meet up in one of the most romantic cities in the world and see what it looked like to be together without the distractions of residency, the influences of our mutual friends or the denial that we felt something for each other.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since I boarded the plane in San Francisco. I could picture his hungry smile after his lips were on mine for an hour on the rooftop. He was trouble, but I was good with it.
The weather gods had decided to cooperate by providing a sky right out of an impressionist painting. A few striated clouds had rolled in, sweeping across the sky and reflected in the river below. On my right, I could see the Ferris wheel in the Tuileries Garden turning slowly and the stately buildings that constituted the Louvre Museum. There was so much still to see in Paris.
Maddox and I hadn’t talked at all about what we’d do once we met up, but I imagined us walking slowly through gorgeous manicured gardens, sipping wine at cafés, and kissing like the couples I saw on the banks of the Seine below me.
It felt right to be walking to meet him under the Eiffel Tower, even though when Maddox had first suggested it, I’d thought it sounded grandiose and clichéd. As I walked along, my view of the Eiffel Tower got better and better, its grey iron trestles coming into focus and its size and majesty becoming more obvious the closer I got. I snapped a few photos, some with a view of the tower through the trees that lined the banks of the river and others showing its spire against the impossibly blue sky. I’d wanted to remember these moments.
Finally, I came to the Pont d’Alma, the bridge that went straight across the river to Avenue Rapp, which led to the center of the Champ de Mars park, which spread out below the tower. I looked up at the elaborate sign of this feat of architecture, noticing arches beneath its first landing and zigzagging open staircases snaking up the entirety of the structure. Then I was underneath, amazed at its perfect symmetry and at how delicate the metal designs were in a piece of architecture of that height.
Maddox had said to meet right in the center, underneath the tower’s peak. I glanced around, my sight line weaving through the masses of people lined up to buy tickets to take an elevator to the second floor. There was another line of people waiting to go to the Jules Verne restaurant at the top. I didn’t want to be in either of those places. I fought my way free of the crowds to our meeting spot right in the center.
I wasn’t expecting to see Maddox yet, because as usual, I was fifteen minutes early. He tended to be punctual if he had to be at the hospital, but he was usually late when it was something social. And this was Paris. There were all kinds of unknowns that could prevent a person from getting to a destination right on time. I was prepared to wait for him.
When I neared the center of the space under the Eiffel Tower, my heart was pounding in my chest, imagining Maddox pulling me in and kissing me with all the unrequited passion built up in the weeks since I’d seen him. I could barely contain how much I wanted him.
Then I saw that I wasn’t the first person standing in our designated spot. And the face I saw made me happy, as it always did.
But it wasn’t Maddox.