The Breakup that Cost her Paris

this is a short story about a break-up with a girl who really never knew what she wanted from men, but knew she wanted to go to Paris. I wrote it nearly 10 years ago

“Please do not go. I could not bear to have you gone, I know I seem apathetic from time to time, but if you were out of my life, I would feel such emptiness... I know that now.” She said this with all the honesty he had longed to hear since they met.

“I must say, it’s really too late. I needed you to tell me that a long time ago, not as I am about to leave the country.” This was very difficult for him to say, but he knew he could not go through getting over her again, and she was inevitably bound to go back to the ennui she knew so well.

“So there is nothing I can do to convince you otherwise? What do you want from me?” With an intent expression she stared at him, the way only she did, her green eyes making identical burn marks within his brain.

“There is nothing you can do, not this time. I am so f*****g tired of you only wanting me when you can’t have me, and being terribly afraid of losing me, this way anyway. You always have to be the one walking, and that hurts, it hurts more than you even know. How many times I have begged you to stay, or how many times have I begged you to look me in the eyes like you are doing now, but no, it has to be on your terms.”

 He regretted these words as soon as he said them, but they were a long time coming, and although he did not intend to hurt her, it would be refreshing to see her feel anything for a change. To her, these words were nothing; her life had been a life of tragedy and putdowns, almost to where words were meaningless and trite.

 

There was uncertainty regarding her sentiment though; she was stunned that he had enough uncharacteristic tenacity to say anything hurtful with his emotive fashion. Her face was frozen in ambiguity. She realised that he was walking out this time for sure, but she suddenly felt both jilted and relieved; she didn’t care. She was not going to beg him to stay out of complacency. She looked at him with those tear stained emerald eyes, and put on a sad grin as if it really f*****g mattered.

“Please visit the Eiffel Tower for me, you know I’ve always wanted to go there....” She said, as if this would push him away, knowing it would only make him sentimental, if not nostalgic.

“I wouldn’t want to go without you, it just really wouldn’t feel right. I mean that was always your thing... I wanted to go to Berlin,” he said with a sad expression.

“Come on, it’s Paris. You’re flying there. You can’t not see the Eiffel Tower; who does that?” she asked, not wanting to deprive him of the cliché experience.

“I don’t know... maybe I will, seems kind of sad to do by oneself. There’s that movie you like with the people and meeting at the Eiffel Tower. Maybe we could do that in 10 years or whatever.” He touched her knee. She moved it away, and placed his hand gently at his side.

“You’re ridiculous. That was the Empire State Building not the Eiffel Tower, but I’m glad you remember the premise anyway. It was An Affair to Remember, with Cary Grant. God, that was such a touching film. I would settle for the Empire State Building, I mean come on, Paris is just a pipe dream.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Perhaps you could come, I mean you don’t have a real job, you know the kind you would need to give more than a couple of weeks notice for.” How quickly he changed his tune, but she really didn’t want him anymore.. she literally felt nothing but vague friendship and indifference at this point.

 As with anything, once she was done, or felt done, she was truly done. Initially she felt an emptiness or total void when something was gone she couldn’t handle, and she felt like a blind person shuffling through a crowded street trying to find someone miles away, if that void disappeared finality just sank in, and then: bring on the apathy.

“The Eiffel Tower will always be there, I mean, I don’t think I can leave right now, it may not be a real job, but it allows me to write and you know that’s what matters most right now to me. You’re right about me though; I only want what is fleeting, transient, and disappearing in the abyss. You going is probably the best thing. There is always Myspace. I’ll comment from time to time. Besides, you’ll meet a nice European girl, and forget all about me. Women are thinner there after all. So your odds of finding another thin girl are substantially in your favour. Maybe she’ll even be blonde, blondes were always more your thing anyway” she began to smile; amused at herself, if she could reference a blonde ex-girlfriend without feeling jealous she knew she was not going to be in emotional turmoil, how she loathed blondes. How silly she had been to try and hold onto this ridiculous relationship just because it was about to end.

He stood there puzzled, not wanting her to hurt, but perhaps he did. If she were hurt, it would mean she cared more than he thought she did, and that he was not somebody simply to pass the time. The reality sank in that he was never really what she wanted anyway. Here he was offering her the prize trip to Paris, she had always pined over, and she was turning him down? For what? Because she didn’t want to go with him. There would be another guy; somebody in her life that she would take that trip with, but it wasn’t going to be him, not now, not ever.

“You know, you’re a real b***h. I think I always knew that.” He said.

“I tried to tell you that from day one.. We sat there at that ridiculous, pretentious soiree and I told you, I’m a total b***h, I probably wouldn’t hang out with me if I were you. And you just laughed, and said 'how could someone with doll eyes like yours be a b***h?You’re probably the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.' Who says stuff like that anyway?” 

She paused, letting brevity play in her favour. “You and I will one day be friends... okay? I mean maybe not now, but down the road, I could see it happening. I’m telling you, you’ll settle down, have kids, the real deal. I’m just not there yet... Plus, I’m kind of cut out for drama... and you, are not a very dramatic person, in fact your down-right straight-laced. I’m irreparably damaged, and you know that. Fucked up lineage of failed relationships.. You’ll do better.. I do appreciate the France offer though, I really do. I doubt I ever take that trip. I mean, come on, I’ve been talking about it for years. It’s just one of those things.” 

She started biting her nails. She looked up at him with the “doll eyes” he seemed to like so much, and then she rolled them to the side and cocked her head at the table towards her pack of Parliaments.

He obliged and handed her a cigarette, and lit the end of it with a matchbook from a club they had been at the night before.

“Jesus, I guess this didn’t go as planned. I came over to break up with you, and it ended up you being the one to do it. Like I said, always have to have the last word. I guess I’m just the kind of dude to let you have it.” He started towards the door. “What are you going to do now? I mean, I’m leaving soon, what’s up for the rest of the summer?”

She cocked her head, and looked at him curiously. “I’m not really sure.. You know Lipgloss will always be there Friday nights, and I may go home to LA for an extended weekend, who knows? I’m only 23. These things work themselves out. I’ll probably go celibate for a while again. You know, get some clarity, and have better writing.”

He smiled, “I know sex always seems to complicate life for you. Your best writing comes from periods of isolation and depression with upheavals of drama... I guess we didn’t have any of that. Not enough anyway. I’ll post photos, I promise. It won’t make you jealous?”

“Probably, but then again, I am a jealous type of girl.”

“That’s very true, but a total understatement... Why I’ll never know. Nobody will ever be like you, any guy you’re with will realise you are all he can handle. Don’t worry so much, you have everything, you’re just too smart for you own good to realise it. Stop over thinking things. You’ll be miserable for life.”

“Well, I guess I’m just wired that way, to be miserable, jealous, and alone. There is no one guy I will find that gets me and loves me for the fucked up mess I am and thinks it’s part of what makes me beautiful, and if that guy existed, there is no way in hell I would be lucky enough to feel the same way about him.... Get on, at least we’re parting amicably right?” She inhaled on her cigarette before she stubbed the last of the butt out into the already overfilled ashtray.

“For my sake, I hope you don’t find that guy, and we can meet again in 10 years... Kiss for the road?” He looked sheepishly at his tennis shoes, completely visible by his tight, ripped skinny jeans. She stood up, 5’11” in her stilettos, all legs in a mini skirt, and kissed him gently on his tear-stained cheek, and rubbed her arm aloofly across his back.

“Bon voyage, mon copien. Rendez vous avec moi est tres complete.” She said with terrible French pronunciation.

“You really got to work on your accent. It’s atrocious, but you’re cute.”

With that he smiled at her while fighting tears, and walked out of her apartment, and she began to cry once she could hear his steps on the street outside. Not because she really gave a damn about him, she really never had, but because once again she had no idea what the hell she wanted from anybody, and felt love would never find her, and for heaven’s sake, she was never going to make it to Paris, and that was by far the worst news she could imagine. 

Author's Note

This story was written nearly 10-years ago, and I think in that time most of my characters smoked. Funny, because I absolutely loathe smoking now, but I think I was reading a lot of Salinger back then. Also, I am going to Paris in a few weeks so I remembered this and pulled it from the archives. I am about to finish graduate school so have little time for new writing, but appreciate feedback for sure.

Reviews

[aj milton]

Everyone should visit Paris.

The girl in the story should have gone to Paris and then dumped him if she really was such a b***h!

Enjoy your trip

[Honourbrite]

I concur AJ. It would have been very cruel to have gone to Europe and then said goodbye, but I think this character was genuine in her own way, not necessarily a user. I think a person who "self-proclaims" the title of "b***h" probably isn't... this character was more one who was afraid of being exposed, or as Mark stated "feeling vulnerable." I think in the end she was self-preserving but a romantic at the same time?
and thank you- it has been a lifelong dream of my own to go to Paris, I am thrilled to be seeing it to fruition. Bon Voyage!

[MarkAndTheOcean]

Very good. Bitter, sad, playful, vulnerable, manipulative and all throughout; lost. Reminds me of a Godard film.

[Honourbrite]

thanks MarkAntolyFalko. I was feeling a little hesitant about posting something from the archives, but appreciate the Jean-Luc reference. I think everything from this period of my life will be quite similar. Thank you for reading.

[MarkAndTheOcean]

Hey, no prob. Looking forward to more. I'm new to online writing so I'm still getting used to the whole feedback deal.