Paris Dreaming (6 page)
Authors: Anita Heiss
I thought about Ames over the next few days, and I also thought about the sex. It wasn't natural to go for lengths of time without it, or so I'd read once in a glossy magazine in the doctor's surgery.
I started to think about my health and how I should be considering the benefits of sex to me physically, beyond the pleasure of orgasms. I knew sex helped to relieve stress and I was finding the language barrier at work somewhat stressful. It also helped burn calories and I'd been consuming far more carbs in Paris than I ever did back home. Sex also helped build up the immune system and although I had travel insurance, I really couldn't afford to get sick, so sex was also preventative medicine.
After five days of internal debating, I decided that sex with Ames again was absolutely necessary for my health and wellbeing. It was Thursday, and with Nuit Blanche approaching, I had the perfect excuse for asking Ames to be my guide.
I sent him a text:
Ames texted back:
Ames' text made me smile, and made me hot. I was keen to get naked with him again and couldn't believe how much being in Paris had changed my view of men over the past weeks. The universe was being kind to me it seemed, after my mistakes in recent years, and I was grateful.
I met Ames at his flat on Saturday evening to explore 'his city'. But all we did was explore each other, beginning with a long soak in his deep cast-iron bath with clawed feet.
He then read me poetry in French and English while he sat in his living room in the nude. I didn't understand most of what he recited but I loved the sound of his voice. When he read to me it reminded me of Linda in the movie
Woman Times Seven
.
He propped himself up against the black bedhead in the bedroom and I just listened for hours. He wanted me nude as well, but I couldn't bring myself to be completely naked, although I liked the feeling of freedom in being without clothes just for the sake of it. I was more modest though and draped a pashmina across my shoulders, explaining that there was a chill coming in from under the door.
I had a copy of Kath Walker's
We Are Going
in my bag to read on the train, and I asked him to read it to me as well. I made him dress for that reading, out of respect for the late activist.
Ames wrote a lot of his own poetry: love poems, environmental poems, poems about social responsibility and disadvantage. But when he didn't find his own words adequate enough, he told me he recited the words of Maximilien de Robespierre.
'We need another revolution. We need another Robespierre,' Ames said, standing to attention as if he was the incorruptible revolutionary himself. He was naked, his penis standing to attention also, and he looked serious and sexy at the same time.
I knew he wasn't the One ' thanks to Andy I no longer believed in the One ' and I certainly hadn't gone to Paris to meet someone I didn't believe even existed, but I was happy to just sit and watch and enjoy Ames' nude oration.
'Society is obliged to secure the subsistence of all its members!' he proclaimed. 'Providing the necessary help against poverty is a duty of the rich towards the poor.' He walked across the room as if he was on a stage and I was the crowd. 'The wretchedness of citizens is nothing other than the crime of government.'
He stood still, and I wasn't sure if he was waiting for me to applaud or not, so I did. Then I stood up, took off my pashmina and stood naked with him. We were revealed revolutionaries. It felt wonderful.
The euphoria of feeling desired by Ames and being in tune with him politically, while also feeling sexually liberated in the city of Paris, fed me emotionally and physically, although I knew I was nowhere near ever falling in love again, not after my bad luck.
I was excited about my new sex life when I emailed the girls back home, attaching the photo of Ames and me from our first meeting.
Lauren emailed back first:
Denise emailed:
Caro emailed:
As the cabbie put my case on the footpath, my phone rang. It was Lauren, furious she hadn't heard from me. I couldn't remember the last time she'd been in such a filthy mood.
'Can you cause people any more concern? No-one's heard from you for ten days, why haven't you answered emails? People are worried. I'm worried.'
I was a little surprised at how angry she was with me. I felt like a chastised child.
'Apart from causing everyone concern, it's also out of character. And, it's rude of you not to return messages.'
While she took a breath I said, 'I've been in Barcelona, just landed in Paris. I'll call you back in five minutes, okay?'
She perked up. 'Barcelona?'
I could tell Lauren was already appeased at the thought of me having a holiday, without knowing the drama behind the trip.
'Speak in five,' I said quickly.
The call ended and I climbed the stairs, stopping at Dom and Catherine's along the way to let them know I was back. I was greeted with a welcome similar to parents who had missed their only daughter.
'It's good to be home,' I said meaningfully.
I called Lauren and summarised the past few weeks. It was a painful exercise but I had to get it all out, and she had to know.
'What are you going to do now?' she asked.
'I need to tell him how much I love him. That I want to be with him.' I was adamant. 'I just hope he wants to be with me.'
'Of course he wants to be with you, you're Libby Cutmore.'
'But I'll survive even if he doesn't. Let's face it,' I said confidently, 'I've got a pretty extraordinary life, and I am capable of great things. I was absolutely fine before I met him, and I'll be fine without him.'
'Yes, yes, yes,' Lauren said impatiently. 'Now get off the phone and call him.'
I laughed. 'Yep, you're right, I'll call him right now, while I'm full of Cutmore courage.' I felt stronger having talked to Lauren.
'And good luck, sis.'
'Thanks.'
'And when you're all finished loving each other up, try sending me an email, okay?' Libby laughed.
'I promise!'
I dialled Jake's number and got his voicemail. I hung up like a nervous teenager. I didn't want to leave an unscripted longwinded message. I caught my breath, wrote some dot points and dialled again. When the phone went to voicemail for a second time, I left a positive-sounding message.
'Jake, it's Libby. I'm back in Paris and I'd like to see you. I need to see you. Can we have dinner tonight? It's Thursday. I'm on the mobile.'
I then called Canelle and Sorina, and asked them to meet me in an hour on rue du Champ de Mars for coffee. I had to get some final support for what I needed to do.
I showered, changed and raced to the Métro, desperate to see my friends and bring the day closer to the night when I hoped to see Jake. I took the train to Bir-Hakeim by mistake ' on autopilot to work ' but didn't mind. The extra walk gave me more think ing time.
But as I crossed rue Jean Rey I looked to the right and saw Jake standing next to a cab. There was a woman with him. It had to be Suzanne. She was much chunkier than I thought she'd be ' for a yoga instructor ' and her long mousy hair was straggly and in need of a good cut and colour. He hugged her. I felt sick.
I turned and ran, hailing the first cab I saw.
I raced up the stairs at home, hoping Dom and Catherine weren't in my path along the way. I collapsed on my bed and screamed into the pillow for two minutes at the top of my lungs after throwing cushions around the room. I didn't think I had any more tears left, but they fell like waterfalls of sadness.
I ran to the bathroom and dry-retched over the toilet bowl, sick in the knowledge that I wasn't even going to get the chance to tell Jake how I felt now. I couldn't, not after seeing him appear happy with another woman. I had failed.
Then my buzzer went.
Fuck! Dom heard me screaming
, I thought.
'Hello?' I said softly.
I wanted to pretend I had just woken from my sleep and a bad dream. That at least could explain why I was such a physical wreck.
'It's Jake.'
I felt nauseous.
'What are you doing here?' I said, angrily.
'I got your phone message.'
'Was that before or after you were completely wrapped around
your wife
on the street?' I yelled, hoping that I wouldn't throw up while on the intercom.
'What?'
'I saw you at work.' I said accusingly. 'Bastard.' I couldn't help myself.
'Can I come up, please?' he pleaded.
I pressed the buzzer and let him in. I couldn't see the point in turning him away: there was nothing more he could do to hurt me now. But when he walked through my door, I thought my heart would break all over again. I had missed him so much.
'What's all this about being wrapped around someone on the street?' Jake looked completely confused.
'Well, I saw her. I saw you.'
I poked him so hard in the chest I nearly broke my finger.
'I saw the hug. I saw you being the 'happy couple',' I said with venom as I made air quotes. 'That was her, wasn't it?'
He said nothing.
'Why are you shaking your head at me? Are you going to lie to my face now about it? For fucksake, I saw you!' I screamed.
'It was Suzanne,' he said, calmly.
'So, where's your wife now?' I looked out the window to see if there was a car waiting downstairs.
'On the way to the airport. She just dropped by work to give me these.' He held up an envelope. 'She signed the papers.'
'I don't care what she did.'
They were probably fake anyway, he probably just wanted one last shag.
I tried not to look at him. I wanted him to know I loved him, but I also wanted him to know how much I was hurting. How wrong I thought he had been.
I fidgeted with my handbag. He took it from my hands and placed it on the floor. He put his arms around my waist and pulled me into him, looking into my eyes.
'Please stop being angry with me, I've missed you every nanosecond, Libby.'
Angry? I was furious. 'Oh I'm sure. Every second you weren't in bed with her, right? Or at dinner with her, or walking in parks.'
My heart started aching again and I cried, hating myself for not keeping it together.
'I didn't sleep with her, we didn't '¦' he said, looking straight into my eyes.
'Yeah, right.' I pushed him away.
'Hear me out please, Libby, I have been desperate all this time you've been away. When she first arrived I just picked her up and took her to a hotel. She didn't come anywhere near my bed. She never even came to the residence.'
Jake looked at me like a child desperate for their parents' trust.
'Why?' I asked, disbelieving.
Jake held my face in his hands.
'Because I didn't want her at my place,' he said gently. 'You are the only woman I've had there, the only woman I wanted there.'
I could imagine how pissed off she must have been if this was the truth.
'I bet she wasn't happy about that.'
'I don't know, she didn't say. She just seemed happy to be in Paris.'
Something suddenly occurred to me. 'Oh fuck, did you pay for her and her yoga mat to come here?'
He was silent.
It was pathetic.
'You really are a doormat for her, aren't you? More money than brains.' I walked away from him.
He shook his head. 'Not anymore.'
He walked towards me.
'I could hardly look at her without thinking of you. I hated her for tearing us apart. But I hated myself more for allowing her to.'
I could feel myself weaken at the thought that maybe he'd missed me as well.
'You let me get on a plane to Spain with a shattered heart and self-esteem.'
'I've been an idiot, Libby,' he said, wiping my tears with his thumbs.
'Yes, you have.'
'And I am filled with self-loathing for what I have put you through. Put us both through.'
'So you should be.' I was starting to feel slightly better.
'It's not
all
my fault, Libby,' he said cautiously.
'What? Are you saying it's my fault?' I could hear my voice rising again.
'You've never said you loved me. I had no idea where I stood.'
I felt guilty.
'All this time, I'm the only one who said it. I was seeing you, and we were together, and I was happy, but I never knew if you loved me. You've never told me.'
Jake searched out my eyes, still looking for the answer I was desperate to give him.
'I would never have walked out that night if I knew that you really wanted me, but you let me go without saying it.'
'Of course I love you,' I said, taking his face in my hands. 'You are the love of my life. I thought you'd be the last man I'd ever love.'
Jake beamed. 'That's all I needed to know.' He kissed me gently. 'If you never say it again, it doesn't matter. I just needed to hear it.'
He hugged me so tight, he nearly squeezed the breath right out of me. I didn't care. I never wanted him to let go.
'What now?' I asked.
'I want to write a new chapter in my life.' He kissed me again and I could feel myself melt inside. 'And I want you to help me finish the book.'
'Okay,' I said, sniffling and wiping my face with the palm of my hand.
'Come with me.'
He took my hand, leading me towards the door to the stairway.
'It's wet out. Let's just stay here. I'll make some tea.'
'Please,' his eyes pleading with me, 'it's important.'
I followed him downstairs and he hailed a cab.
'The Pont des Arts,' he instructed the driver.
As we headed towards the Seine and the place he first told me he loved me, my phone beeped.
I knew exactly what to reply.
