Ch. 8

Nele and I walked the wide streets after our run. She strolled. I hobbled. I had twisted my ankle on a downslope because the heather was slick. It was still early and only the buses were running, sputtering down the streets, backfiring, making me, as an American, jump though the country had no guns. No one crowded the streets, gawking at the oil stains of stone buildings or snapping pictures of the cock atop St. Giles. There was no one with change so even street performers stayed in bed. It was just us on the wide street. We were constantly bumping hands.

“Is it much farther to your place?” Nele asked. She had stopped to wait for me and for the WALK light though there were no cars. “We should really get you off your ankle.” The light turned and she went ahead.

“About a mile back the way we just came.”

She turned around in the middle of the street. “Then why didn’t we stop?” She came back for me and by then the light flashed so we stayed on the corner.

“I need to check the post office for a package.”

“Did you order something?”

“I sent something.”

“Where’d you send it?”

“Here.”

“But you’re here.”

“And I should check on it while I’m here.”

The light turned back to WALK. She didn’t walk. “Why didn’t you just give it to the person?”

“I don’t think they’re here.”

“So why’d you send it here?”

                                                                                                          

“Because they might be here.”

“They might be a lot of places!”

“The package has been mailed a lot of places.”

“Why don’t they pick it up?”

“I don’t know if they know it’s here.”

She gave up. She just walked off across the street, despite the light.

The clerk at the post office asked me how I was today and I told her I needed to check on a package. She asked for my name and I told her the recipient’s name, which was foreign enough that she didn’t know it was a girl’s name especially since the name derived from an alchemic movie star that no one in the Western world knew of. She rummaged through some unclaimed packages and said, “You’re in luck. Here it is.”

“That’s too bad.” I walked out. She stared at my back and then the door that closed until she shook it off and stuck the package on the shelf.

~

Me: I’ve got something for you.

: why

i’m not in germany

Me: Me neither. I finally got down to France. Like actual out and around. Paris has a lot of people. Lot of smokers too, but I think the UK was worse. Something like 70% of girls 16-18 smoke in the UK. That’s what I heard anyway.

: i’m not in france either.

Me: They have post office’s here.

: i’m not giving you the address

i couldn’t check the post even if i wanted

Me: You’re not curious? I’d be dying to know what it is. Begging, offering sexual favors—but you’re not really the sexual type. I’d brush your hair. I know you don’t like massages. They always make you giggle, right? Am I imagining that you told me that once?

: No.

You’re right.

Why do you remember that?

Me: I remember everything you tell me.

Versailles was colder than Wales but better than Germany. There was no snow, but my breath came out in puffs. The narrow street was foggy with life. The buildings were four high with the first floor obviously businesses, cafes and shops, but the ones above were a mystery. The sandy walls were broken up by hundreds of windows. There were only two designs, arched or rectangular. The left side of the street favored arched and the right liked rectangular. I sat under the blue umbrella of L’Aquarium. Only my table had it and who else would sit outside a mostly empty café, just a foot-swing from the chalkboard Specials menu, when inside was warmth? Some blonde in a scarf joined the table. Everyone in France wore scarfs.

Me: Except your birthday. October 12?

: 10th

Me: Damn. I was off by one day last time. I guessed the 11th and remembered that was wrong, but forgot if I was over or under.

: 10/10

Like a perfect score

Easiest thing to remember

A pigeon weaved through the tables and got at my foot. Maybe it’d mistake my frayed shoelace for a worm. It was fat. It wasn’t afraid. I could’ve punted it down the street.

: What’d you get me?

Me: It’s a surprise.

: You can’t mail it.

I wouldn’t be able to check the post.

Me: I want to give it to you in person anyway.

My coffee was in danger of freezing. My teeth nearly cracked on the iced chocolate chips in my muffin. Neither were very good. But they were cheap. My laptop was low on power, but I wasn’t worried. As a kid, my friend the scientist, educated our lunch table on tricks to extend the power of a battery. The most obvious and assured way was to stick your AAs in the fridge, but let’s say you were on a car ride to Grandma’s and while you were over the river but not quite through the woods, your Gameboy died. A sure-fire way to get you through to Grandma’s without sleeping was sticking them in your pits, one in each.

: I’m leaving Austria tomorrow.

Not sure where I’m going yet.

Or how long I’ll be there.

They don’t tell me much.

But maybe I’ll tell you when it seems like I’ll be somewhere for a while.

I love you.

Thank you.

I had typed “I love you too…” and was adding her name when my battery warning popped up. I had 7% battery life, 20 minutes it estimated. The computer shut down before I could punch the six keys—her name, space, enter.