Chapters (45)
- Cover
- Blame Iton Paris
- Copyright Notice
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Book One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Book Two
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
“The thing is, maybe it would be good for us if you tried living in my culture for a while. So far things have been a little one-sided.”
His face changed again. He watched a barge move slowly past, piled high with gravel, tiny, ridiculous Smartcar latched on top of it, ready for its owner to drive out and explore wherever he moored. I had always thought the barge life would be awful, partly because I could get seasick in a hammock, but Sébastien found it fascinating. “I’ll say,” he responded. “Do you realize how much of the world you’ve seen? Okay, I’ve taken vacations in Spain and England, but I’ve only ever lived in Paris.”
I looked at him a moment, the warm light of the streetlamp falling on the clean, strong bones of his face, the five o’clock shadow he could never shave off, the lashes longer than mine. For the past five years, people had been telling me how envious they were of my adventurous lifestyle, how much they wished they could live all over the world as I did. Not a single person ever tried it, though. A lot more was involved in moving to another world than simple adventure. Maybe Sébastien needed to know what it was like so that we could properly understand each other. But was he one of those people who could only dream about moving to another country, or could he really do it?
“I want to take this teaching job in North Carolina,” I said. “That will last nine months.”
He nodded, staring at the lights of his city reflected on the murky Seine water. “I’d like to get a few more months experience at this job so that I’ll have a full year at it.” It was a good job; to land a job like that straight out of school had been an exceptional achievement. He had been so proud, and he had kept trying to let slip enough information, without showing off, so that his family would realize how proud they should be of him, too. “What if I follow you in October?”
I nodded. Neither of us said anything for a while. We were afraid, and this was a fear we had faced too many times before. Every time we separated, there was a possibility we wouldn’t get back together again, that we wouldn’t be able to keep making the leap across cultures. This was a real test moment. When push came to shove, could Sébastien give up home and culture for me as I had for him? Why would anyone give up anything for me, let alone someone who had so much going for him and who could have nearly any woman he wanted?