Tourist Trap (2/2)
TOURIST TRAP 2/2
They grabbed some ice cream from a local shop, and he let Becky go on about all her plans for England. Even if she was going to relax her itinerary for Paris a bit, her London excursion was going to take her all over the place. From there they hit the luxury stores on the Champs-Elysees, and Nino knew he was earning his share of scornful glares from the shop workers - after all, he was dressed pretty shabbily for designer stores, but Becky didn't seem to notice, so happy was she to just take a peek into some of the famous places.
The sun set, and Paris lit up in a way that Nino had mostly slept through the night before. The streets were full of honking cars, and the bars and restaurants opened and filled with people. But their feet grew sore before too long, and they decided to call it a night around 10:00 PM, parting at a Metro station.
"I'm sorry I'm not the most entertaining travel companion," he said as they stood out of the way, watching people go through the turnstiles. "I'm kind of the stay at home type."
"I am, too," she said. "Just not when I'm on vacation."
"Are you okay just getting back on the train? I can come with you..."
She blushed at the offer, shaking her head. She was bold as could be with him otherwise, teasing and laughing at him like they'd been friends for ages rather than two days. But as soon as he turned (somewhat) gentleman on her, her face would go red. "No, I'll be fine, thank you. And for putting up with me the whole day, thank you also. I really do appreciate it."
"It's no big deal." He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking around. "I...I, uh, what are you doing tomorrow? Your last big day, maybe you should do a tour?"
She looked at her feet. "Well, I was going to ask you the same thing. About tomorrow, I mean."
Did she really want to spend her entire Paris vacation stuck with someone like him? Much as his wallet didn't want him to, the thought of wandering around on the Metro with this crazy, cheerful girl wasn't so bad. He'd spent so much of the day in her company that he'd seemed to forget his own anger and disappointment with himself. He'd had fun, even if it had been non-stop crowds and walking.
"That depends on your itinerary," he said.
"Eiffel Tower and then a neighborhood of my choice," she offered. "I won't drag you all around, I promise. Not like today."
"How about 11 AM? That's an early day for me when I'm not doing anything with my life."
She laughed at him. "11:00 will be fine. Hold on a second..." She ducked into her bag, pulling out her guidebook. "Don't worry, I'm just looking for the right Metro stop where we should meet."
Once they'd decided, they parted ways, taking different train cars home. Nino usually appreciated quiet time to himself, time to get lost in thought or in nothing at all, but he felt the slightest bit lonely taking the Metro all the way back to Satoshi's neighborhood alone, no longer feeling the slight bit of warmth he'd felt earlier that day when he and Becky had sat side by side.
Satoshi was cooking a rather late dinner when Nino got in, coming out of his tiny kitchen with an oven mitt on. "Fried rice?" his friend asked by way of greeting.
"Sure."
They split a bottle of red wine with the fried rice, Satoshi extolling the virtues of wine now that he'd been in France for so long. His friend mostly just liked to get drunk, but wine made him feel more Parisian about it. Nino poked at his food, wondering where he'd end up post-Eiffel Tower the following day.
They got on to the topic of Becky, and Satoshi gobbled his food down while Nino explained all the places they'd been that day. Finally, his friend put his spoon down and stared at him.
"You like her."
"What?" Nino cried. "I just met her. I was being nice. Helping a fellow Japanese person in need."
Satoshi remained suspicious of his motives. "Nino, you never go out."
"I go out all the time."
"When there's a girl you want to see. That's what always got you out of the house."
He scowled at his friend. "Her friend ditched her, come on. I don't know anything about this girl."
"You can still like her. It's not against the law."
Nino set his own spoon down. "She could have a boyfriend for all I know. I mean, she's not wearing a wedding ring or anything, but still. She's cute enough that she probably does. She probably thinks I'm an older brother type. Hell, she could think I'm gay and completely harmless for all I know. She's just a nice person, and she needs a friend, and it's not like I'm doing anything else."
Satoshi smiled at him when he was finished babbling. "You like her," he insisted.
Nino's chair scraped back against the floor. "I'm not helping you with the dishes. I'm your guest," he muttered in protest, heading to grab his bag and change for bed.
"You like her!" Satoshi called, a little louder once he had the sink going. "You followed her all over Paris! And you'll do it again tomorrow!"
"Shut up!" Nino screeched at him, feeling his stomach grumble at him. Even his body was against him on this.
Well, so what if he liked this girl? He'd come to Paris trying to run away, trying to escape all the reminders of what he'd wanted to do with his life. Like Becky, Nino had had a plan, an itinerary for life. The book that would launch him and those he'd write to follow it up. He'd planned everything down to the last detail, and it had all gone south. And yet he was the one who'd lectured her about doing the same thing, albeit on a much smaller scale.
He curled up in his fortress of blankets and stray cushions, pulling the covers up over his head to ignore Satoshi's noise as he showered and got ready for bed himself. What did he have to offer a pretty girl like her anyway?
--
"Tell her you like her. What can it hurt?" was all the note from Satoshi said the following morning. Nino crumpled it up, flinging it into a dusty corner of his friend's kitchen.
Today he would be cheerful, he vowed. It was Becky's last day in Paris, he was the only company she'd be keeping, and he didn't want all her vacation memories to be of the grouchy, opinionated pain in the ass she'd met at the airport. He reheated some fried rice from the night before and went through his bag. Old t-shirts and ripped-up jeans, it was all he'd brought. It wouldn't do.
Satoshi's closets revealed a similar fashion sense (or lack thereof), but he did manage to find a blazer that wasn't completely disgusting and fit him decently. Wearing it over his t-shirt, he felt at least a little more put together. Effort was not always his strong suit.
Becky was already waiting at the Champ de Mars Metro stop with her brown hair tied in pigtails wearing a floral print dress and her denim jacket. Not too fancy, just his type. And with no reminders of mimes, to boot. He thought of Satoshi's stupid note. Paris was a city of romance, not a casual hookup. And Becky didn't strike him as a casual hookup type.
She poked him in the shoulder. "Dressed for success, huh, Ninomiya-san?"
He bowed to her. "Ah, just in case you make me go into any more churches."
"How thoughtful," she said, and they headed up the escalators. The famous tower loomed ahead of them, all iron as it soared into the Paris sky.
"Hmm," he said as they headed for the queue of visitors.
"Hmm?"
"Tokyo Tower is bigger, isn't it?" he pointed out. "This isn't wow-ing me."
She linked arms with him then. "I swear, this will be the biggest tourist trap of the day."
"It's the biggest tourist trap this city has," he told her, really liking the way she held onto him as though it was the most logical thing in the world. "Anything after this can't compare."
She beamed. "We're still going up."
He'd been up to the top of Tokyo Tower on school trips, and the process was similar. Paying a ridiculous amount of money after waiting in one line, then having to queue up in another to get on the elevator. But they finally reached the top observation deck. Unlike the skyscrapers and sprawl of Tokyo, he now had a pretty girl dragging him to the glass with a silly laugh, already shoving her camera into his hand.
"Come on, get a good one!"
"You haven't even looked out the window yet. Don't you want to take it in first?"
"There were a bunch of kids waiting for elevators, and they'll totally swamp this place. We won't get a good shot if we don't take it now!"
He sighed, shaking his head. Perhaps this would make up for all of the disappointing Louvre pictures. He diligently took a few shots of her at various points on the observation deck, snapping a few more when she was looking around and figuring out where to pose. Finally she tried waving him over.
"Get in the picture."
He shook his head. "You don't have to..."
"I want you in the picture, Ninomiya-san."
She grabbed the camera away, tugging him to the glass with her and holding the camera out so they'd both be in the shot. It was an awkward angle, and she was so close that Nino could smell her perfume. Something floral, cheerful, just like her. Then there was the beep of the camera, and Becky was examining it closely.
"You blinked," she accused him.
"I was winking at you with both eyes."
She scowled at him. "We'll take another one."
And this time he couldn't help leaning closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and exhaling in relief when she launched no protest. She snapped another picture, and this one seemed to please her more.
"Good," she said, hurriedly shoving her camera in her bag. "Now we can relax."
He nodded, overhearing a dozen other languages as the tourists swarmed around the observation deck, soon joined by the school group Becky had been worried about. Before too long, it was difficult to enjoy the Parisian views, the noise getting to both of them. It was time to move on.
"One neighborhood, like I said yesterday," she said when they headed back down in the elevator. This time they took the Metro north to Montmartre and were confronted almost immediately with a hill.
"I hate to break this to you, Becky," he said anxiously, "but I'm not in the best of shape." Or more like it was a lot easier to sit at home and eat convenience store ramen than to ever go to the gym.
There was a large white church at the top of the hill, the Sacre Couer, Becky informed him. It was where she wanted to go and as far as he could tell they had two options: the stairs or the funicular railway car. And just as he was about to bust open his wallet, Becky took off up the stairs.
"No, don't do this to me," he mumbled, staring up the multiple flights of stairs the train ran alongside. But she was already to the first landing, calling back at him to hurry up. With the help of the railing, he climbed up after her. Satoshi would be amazed to learn of Nino's athletic achievements that day, he figured.
By the time he started making progress, it seemed that Becky's initial enthusiasm was wearing off. He caught up to her on the last landing, the both of them huffing and puffing and out of breath as far more responsible people walked up and down the steps at a leisurely pace around them. He had to almost drag her up the last few stairs, and they collapsed on a bench nearby, exhausted.
"Why...why the stairs?" he asked her.
"Wasn't...wasn't so bad..." she tried convincing him, but she couldn't even convince herself. "Ugh, why did I run?"
They rested side by side on the bench for a while longer than necessary, and her hand was so close their fingers were almost touching. "Got the whole rest of the day ahead of us, and you go and do that," he chastised her.
But finally she laughed, her cheeks still pink from her exertion. "I was on track team in high school, but I wasn't very good."
"Baseball," he said. "Pitcher though, didn't run as much as everyone else. Just stood on the mound."
"We've got time," she admitted. "May as well enjoy the view from this bench for a while instead."
They chatted for a good long while about things that they'd seemed to skip during their first few days of knowing one another. He told her to call him "Nino," which sounded a lot nicer coming from her lips than the too formal "Ninomiya-san."
She told him about the campus where she was staying, about her friend's situation (still hiding under her covers), and about her pending trip to London the following day. She'd be taking the train north and then through the Channel Tunnel. Nino wasn't sure he'd be too happy to be underwater in a tunnel for so long, but Becky seemed far braver than he was.
"So what about you, Nino?" she asked, trying out his nickname. "What really brings you to Paris anyhow?"
He leaned back against the bench. "To visit my friend. Satoshi. I told you."
"Okay," she said, leaning back too. "But who goes to visit a friend for such a long time? Or more like an indefinite amount of time with the way you mentioned it before. Don't you have people waiting for you back home? A job?"
He shrugged. "Just passing the time."
"You don't want to tell me."
"I've known you for two days."
"I get that." She leaned closer. "Are you on the run? Did you kill someone? Oh wait, are you a spy?"
"No, no, and no," he said with a laugh.
"Well? Is it so bad?"
Did it really matter if a stranger knew? Even if it had only been two days, he didn't get the impression that she would make fun of him for this. For his lack of interest in tourism, sure. For his thriftiness, sure. But not for this.
"I'm a writer. Ah, scratch that. I was a writer. And I tried to sell books. Put everything I had into writing. Market's tough, a hundred and sixty-two rejection letters later, and all that's waiting for me back home is a job bagging groceries or something..."
And before he knew it he was pouring his heart out to her there on that bench, being honest in a way he never really had been before, telling her how ambitious he'd once been, how much his instructors had always praised his writing. How he'd had short stories published during college. But then the well had dried up - no matter what he wrote, it wasn't good enough. He tried different genres, different points of view, different ways of seeing the world, and the publishing houses weren't looking for his voice. Instead they wanted the latest celebrity-written novel that would sell copies for the personality alone rather than any sort of writing talent. Nobody cared what Nino had to say anymore. Nobody cared about the hours he'd poured into his work.
Rejection had crushed him until he ended up just floating along, wasting his time. He was left numb and with nothing to fall back on. It was the only thing people had ever really liked about him and now that had changed. He was sending in his manuscript with no expectation but failure. When the invitation from Satoshi had come, maybe it had been a sign. It was time to give up - one last hurrah as some sort of starving artist before settling in with a job he didn't want, doing something that would never truly make him happy.
He finally looked up, feeling guilty for talking so long. She'd listened to him ramble without interruption, this strange girl. Maybe their meeting had been fated in a way after all. Maybe what he'd really just needed was someone to listen. His mom would just tell him to keep trying, Satoshi would ask him what was so bad about bagging groceries or delivering food. A person who didn't really know him could only listen.
Becky opened her purse suddenly, pulling out a little metal case that she'd decorated gaudily with stickers of flowers. She popped it open, pulled something out and got to her feet. "Let's do this properly, at least."
"Do what?"
"On your feet." He did as she ordered, wondering what she was going to demand he do next. "What genre do you write mostly?"
He laughed. "What?"
"What genre?"
"Just...general fiction, really. Everyday stories and experiences."
Then she was holding out her business card, smiling at him. "I told you on the train that it was fate, I told you and you didn't believe me!"
And there it was on the card, her name and the title "Editorial Services Assistant" listed along with her publishing company, Chuokoron-Shinsha. "They rejected me. Twice," he blurted out, hand shaking a little as he took the card into his hand.
"Well, you obviously didn't send your manuscript to the right person. I mainly work with children's and young adult books, but we get thousands of submissions every day," she said. "I'm obviously out of the office now, but when we're both back home, I can read your stuff, get it on the right desks."
He was flabbergasted. He'd completely given up, and here she was, giving him hope after so long without any. "It still may not be any good. But thank you," he said gratefully. "Why would you help me? And don't say because it's fate..."
"It's not," she insisted. "It's because you helped me, too."
--
With Becky's business card in his pocket and feeling more hopeful and sure of himself than he'd felt in months, it seemed like he became the one dragging her around. After a look inside the Sacre Coeur and a long climb to the top of the dome for more pictures, he pulled her around the neighborhood.
With the guidebook long forgotten, they wandered through the streets unhindered - Nino told her how he preferred to travel, how normal people living their lives inspired his writing. She smiled, walking at his side through narrow streets. They happened upon a square where numerous artists had set up shop for the day, tourists all around waiting for a portrait of their own. He scanned the area quickly, and Satoshi was nowhere in sight. He wondered if his friend ever worked around here.
Becky parked herself on an empty stool, smiling for a young woman artist who had set up her easel near the edge of the square. Between the two of them they seemed to work out an understanding, and Nino waited patiently while the artist started to sketch.
He realized in those minutes, seeing Becky's eyes appear on the paper, her pigtails, her smile, that Satoshi had been right. He liked her, wanted to get to know her better than he knew anyone else. It seemed strange, falling so quickly for someone he barely knew, but maybe it couldn't hurt to stop being so cynical. He'd come to Paris to escape a reality he didn't want, and a new reality had come crashing into him at the baggage carousel.
"You're smiling," she said, watching him curiously from the stool. "Is she making me look funny?"
It was a faithful reproduction, though the original copy sitting before him was obviously superior. But it was fun to tease her, and he only smiled more.
"You're lucky I have to sit still!" she threatened him with a laugh.
From the square, they continued wandering until dark. Since they had no tickets for the sold-out shows at the Moulin Rouge, Becky settled for a few pictures under the windmill. He was just about to suggest dinner (his treat, no less) when Becky's cell phone rang.
He hung back patiently while she chatted. Tomorrow he'd still be in Paris, and she'd be on her way to London. Then she'd go back to Japan, and he'd still be in Paris. But he had her business card - he had a reason to go back home sooner rather than later. It wasn't just the potential of someone taking his writing seriously that made him look forward to the future though - it was her.
When her phone call ended, she looked apologetic. "My friend wants to go out tonight, to get over things a bit...a girl's night only. I'm so sorry, Nino."
"What? Sorry? Why?"
"We were having a good time. Maybe I just don't want it to end," she admitted, looking anywhere but at his face.
"Tell her you like her," Satoshi had told him just that morning. And that was before he'd decided to pour out all his other feelings, resulting in the remarkable coincidence about where Becky worked. Nino didn't want to believe in fate. He liked the idea of his own independence a little too much, but it was all rather suspicious.
Tell her you like her.
Tell her you like her, damn it.
"Ah..." he said hesitantly. "Don't worry about it. Let me walk you to your train."
Becky's face seemed the slightest bit hurt by his cowardly response, but she soon masked it with her usual smile. "I'd appreciate it, thank you."
"I'll keep your business card, and I've got your number so I'll definitely be in touch," he said when they made it to the Metro stop. "You don't know how much it means to me that you want to help."
"I'm sure you're a great writer. You just need to get matched with the right person," she said, quickly adding, "on our editorial staff."
This was it, his last chance for a confession. The most bizarre confession of his life, no doubt, seeing as he usually waited a lot longer than three days before admitting any kind of feelings. It seemed that Becky was just a special exception. And yet his tongue was tied despite everywhere they'd been together, everything they'd come to know about one another in so short a time.
"Have a safe trip to London," he told her. "And a wonderful time there."
"Won't be the same without my tour guide," she admitted, hands shoved in her pockets.
"I know even less about England than I do about France," he told her, seeing her smile for probably the last time in a while. He wanted to kiss her then, under the street lamps with the Paris night all around them. Two ordinary enough people in ordinary circumstances, and it was enough to make him want to write a whole novel about it. And he wouldn't even care if that one got rejected.
"Well, goodbye Nino. It was fun to spend time with you. Sorry for any inconvenience I caused you."
"Not at all. Goodbye Becky. Talk to you soon."
He couldn't manage to do it. He couldn't squeak out a confession, not even at the last moment. Nino watched her wave before descending the steps to the Metro station. She disappeared from his sight, the silly pigtails vanishing. He found that he wasn't ready to go back to Satoshi's place, not yet, somehow meandering back to the steps they'd run up earlier that day.
Nino took one step at a time, slower this time, and when he got to the top he laughed.
"I like you," he muttered to himself. "Becky, I like you."
--
Satoshi only shook his head when Nino returned, filling him in on most of the day's happenings.
"She's going to try and pass my book around," he tried to explain. "It's just...it's not the right time for more than that, you know? Not if she's trying to help me professionally."
"Of course."
"And besides, I only just got here. I haven't spent nearly enough time bothering you. I can't go back home, not yet."
"Sure." Satoshi's face was just as placid as always, but his eyes told a different story.
He scowled at his friend. "You think I'm a coward."
Satoshi walked to the window, looking out. "That's the thing about writers. You think too much."
He wandered over, resting his chin on his friend's shoulder as they both stared out at the busy neighborhood far below. "I don't know her."
"Well how else are you going to know her if you don't try? And from what it sounds like, I think you've got a good shot. I don't think she'll say no. She did hang out with you for two days without pushing you into the river."
Nino smirked. "That's your vote of confidence?"
His friend chuckled. "She even told you what time her train leaves, dummy. I'll help you."
As Nino settled in for bed that night, he wondered when Satoshi had gotten so meddlesome. He'd usually been so quiet - maybe Paris changed everyone, at least a little bit.
--
Satoshi's friend in the neighborhood was a taxi driver, and even with the Paris morning rush, the guy seemed to know all the back alleyways and quieter streets to zoom through, crossing the Seine to head back to the Gare du Nord. He'd have to catch her before she went through the check-in gate since he didn't feel like paying for a Eurostar ticket, even with the impulsiveness he was already experiencing.
For his part Satoshi seemed almost as excited as Nino felt, which was rare for him if it didn't involve painting and sketching. He'd insisted on coming since the train station itself was so large. They thanked his friend as they came flying up to the station, Nino nearly losing his breakfast from the crazy driving.
Then they were off, Satoshi tugging him along as Nino fumbled with his cell phone. "Should I call her?" he was muttering. "If she's already gone this was pointless..."
"Don't call her!" Satoshi said, "it's more like a movie if your eyes meet across the room."
"This is a pretty damn big room, idiot!" Nino grumbled back, hurrying under a big departure board. Eurostar, he kept telling himself. He had to find the Eurostar.
Satoshi dragged him around a corner towards the ticket counter, and they crashed into another customer, knocking her obnoxiously green bags over as she came hurrying from the opposite direction.
"Nino..."
He looked up from where he'd stumbled, righting her suitcase quickly. Green bags, green eyes, and the smile he'd so easily been drawn in by.
"Becky."
Satoshi was already walking off, hands in his pockets as though he was just another stranger in the station. Didn't he want to stay and gloat about the movie-like encounter? Maybe he'd just tease him later.
They got her bags together, moving aside and out of the way. "What are you doing here?" she asked, face bright red.
"When does your train leave?"
"About 30 minutes," she said. "But why are you here?"
It was a strange feeling, being in the crowded train station. Tourists and natives alike hurrying around for their trains, announcements echoing in a language he'd never understand, the smell of fresh bread wafting from one of the dozens of stores in the massive station. And yet he only had eyes for her.
She didn't even protest when he leaned in to gently kiss her, tasting some oddly fruity gloss on her lips. If she was shocked, she got over it quickly enough, closing the distance between them to hold his hands. It was too much of a coincidence, too ridiculous that he'd turned a corner and there she was. There was no reasonable explanation.
When they broke apart, he smiled and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Guess it must be fate."
They grabbed some ice cream from a local shop, and he let Becky go on about all her plans for England. Even if she was going to relax her itinerary for Paris a bit, her London excursion was going to take her all over the place. From there they hit the luxury stores on the Champs-Elysees, and Nino knew he was earning his share of scornful glares from the shop workers - after all, he was dressed pretty shabbily for designer stores, but Becky didn't seem to notice, so happy was she to just take a peek into some of the famous places.
The sun set, and Paris lit up in a way that Nino had mostly slept through the night before. The streets were full of honking cars, and the bars and restaurants opened and filled with people. But their feet grew sore before too long, and they decided to call it a night around 10:00 PM, parting at a Metro station.
"I'm sorry I'm not the most entertaining travel companion," he said as they stood out of the way, watching people go through the turnstiles. "I'm kind of the stay at home type."
"I am, too," she said. "Just not when I'm on vacation."
"Are you okay just getting back on the train? I can come with you..."
She blushed at the offer, shaking her head. She was bold as could be with him otherwise, teasing and laughing at him like they'd been friends for ages rather than two days. But as soon as he turned (somewhat) gentleman on her, her face would go red. "No, I'll be fine, thank you. And for putting up with me the whole day, thank you also. I really do appreciate it."
"It's no big deal." He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking around. "I...I, uh, what are you doing tomorrow? Your last big day, maybe you should do a tour?"
She looked at her feet. "Well, I was going to ask you the same thing. About tomorrow, I mean."
Did she really want to spend her entire Paris vacation stuck with someone like him? Much as his wallet didn't want him to, the thought of wandering around on the Metro with this crazy, cheerful girl wasn't so bad. He'd spent so much of the day in her company that he'd seemed to forget his own anger and disappointment with himself. He'd had fun, even if it had been non-stop crowds and walking.
"That depends on your itinerary," he said.
"Eiffel Tower and then a neighborhood of my choice," she offered. "I won't drag you all around, I promise. Not like today."
"How about 11 AM? That's an early day for me when I'm not doing anything with my life."
She laughed at him. "11:00 will be fine. Hold on a second..." She ducked into her bag, pulling out her guidebook. "Don't worry, I'm just looking for the right Metro stop where we should meet."
Once they'd decided, they parted ways, taking different train cars home. Nino usually appreciated quiet time to himself, time to get lost in thought or in nothing at all, but he felt the slightest bit lonely taking the Metro all the way back to Satoshi's neighborhood alone, no longer feeling the slight bit of warmth he'd felt earlier that day when he and Becky had sat side by side.
Satoshi was cooking a rather late dinner when Nino got in, coming out of his tiny kitchen with an oven mitt on. "Fried rice?" his friend asked by way of greeting.
"Sure."
They split a bottle of red wine with the fried rice, Satoshi extolling the virtues of wine now that he'd been in France for so long. His friend mostly just liked to get drunk, but wine made him feel more Parisian about it. Nino poked at his food, wondering where he'd end up post-Eiffel Tower the following day.
They got on to the topic of Becky, and Satoshi gobbled his food down while Nino explained all the places they'd been that day. Finally, his friend put his spoon down and stared at him.
"You like her."
"What?" Nino cried. "I just met her. I was being nice. Helping a fellow Japanese person in need."
Satoshi remained suspicious of his motives. "Nino, you never go out."
"I go out all the time."
"When there's a girl you want to see. That's what always got you out of the house."
He scowled at his friend. "Her friend ditched her, come on. I don't know anything about this girl."
"You can still like her. It's not against the law."
Nino set his own spoon down. "She could have a boyfriend for all I know. I mean, she's not wearing a wedding ring or anything, but still. She's cute enough that she probably does. She probably thinks I'm an older brother type. Hell, she could think I'm gay and completely harmless for all I know. She's just a nice person, and she needs a friend, and it's not like I'm doing anything else."
Satoshi smiled at him when he was finished babbling. "You like her," he insisted.
Nino's chair scraped back against the floor. "I'm not helping you with the dishes. I'm your guest," he muttered in protest, heading to grab his bag and change for bed.
"You like her!" Satoshi called, a little louder once he had the sink going. "You followed her all over Paris! And you'll do it again tomorrow!"
"Shut up!" Nino screeched at him, feeling his stomach grumble at him. Even his body was against him on this.
Well, so what if he liked this girl? He'd come to Paris trying to run away, trying to escape all the reminders of what he'd wanted to do with his life. Like Becky, Nino had had a plan, an itinerary for life. The book that would launch him and those he'd write to follow it up. He'd planned everything down to the last detail, and it had all gone south. And yet he was the one who'd lectured her about doing the same thing, albeit on a much smaller scale.
He curled up in his fortress of blankets and stray cushions, pulling the covers up over his head to ignore Satoshi's noise as he showered and got ready for bed himself. What did he have to offer a pretty girl like her anyway?
--
"Tell her you like her. What can it hurt?" was all the note from Satoshi said the following morning. Nino crumpled it up, flinging it into a dusty corner of his friend's kitchen.
Today he would be cheerful, he vowed. It was Becky's last day in Paris, he was the only company she'd be keeping, and he didn't want all her vacation memories to be of the grouchy, opinionated pain in the ass she'd met at the airport. He reheated some fried rice from the night before and went through his bag. Old t-shirts and ripped-up jeans, it was all he'd brought. It wouldn't do.
Satoshi's closets revealed a similar fashion sense (or lack thereof), but he did manage to find a blazer that wasn't completely disgusting and fit him decently. Wearing it over his t-shirt, he felt at least a little more put together. Effort was not always his strong suit.
Becky was already waiting at the Champ de Mars Metro stop with her brown hair tied in pigtails wearing a floral print dress and her denim jacket. Not too fancy, just his type. And with no reminders of mimes, to boot. He thought of Satoshi's stupid note. Paris was a city of romance, not a casual hookup. And Becky didn't strike him as a casual hookup type.
She poked him in the shoulder. "Dressed for success, huh, Ninomiya-san?"
He bowed to her. "Ah, just in case you make me go into any more churches."
"How thoughtful," she said, and they headed up the escalators. The famous tower loomed ahead of them, all iron as it soared into the Paris sky.
"Hmm," he said as they headed for the queue of visitors.
"Hmm?"
"Tokyo Tower is bigger, isn't it?" he pointed out. "This isn't wow-ing me."
She linked arms with him then. "I swear, this will be the biggest tourist trap of the day."
"It's the biggest tourist trap this city has," he told her, really liking the way she held onto him as though it was the most logical thing in the world. "Anything after this can't compare."
She beamed. "We're still going up."
He'd been up to the top of Tokyo Tower on school trips, and the process was similar. Paying a ridiculous amount of money after waiting in one line, then having to queue up in another to get on the elevator. But they finally reached the top observation deck. Unlike the skyscrapers and sprawl of Tokyo, he now had a pretty girl dragging him to the glass with a silly laugh, already shoving her camera into his hand.
"Come on, get a good one!"
"You haven't even looked out the window yet. Don't you want to take it in first?"
"There were a bunch of kids waiting for elevators, and they'll totally swamp this place. We won't get a good shot if we don't take it now!"
He sighed, shaking his head. Perhaps this would make up for all of the disappointing Louvre pictures. He diligently took a few shots of her at various points on the observation deck, snapping a few more when she was looking around and figuring out where to pose. Finally she tried waving him over.
"Get in the picture."
He shook his head. "You don't have to..."
"I want you in the picture, Ninomiya-san."
She grabbed the camera away, tugging him to the glass with her and holding the camera out so they'd both be in the shot. It was an awkward angle, and she was so close that Nino could smell her perfume. Something floral, cheerful, just like her. Then there was the beep of the camera, and Becky was examining it closely.
"You blinked," she accused him.
"I was winking at you with both eyes."
She scowled at him. "We'll take another one."
And this time he couldn't help leaning closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and exhaling in relief when she launched no protest. She snapped another picture, and this one seemed to please her more.
"Good," she said, hurriedly shoving her camera in her bag. "Now we can relax."
He nodded, overhearing a dozen other languages as the tourists swarmed around the observation deck, soon joined by the school group Becky had been worried about. Before too long, it was difficult to enjoy the Parisian views, the noise getting to both of them. It was time to move on.
"One neighborhood, like I said yesterday," she said when they headed back down in the elevator. This time they took the Metro north to Montmartre and were confronted almost immediately with a hill.
"I hate to break this to you, Becky," he said anxiously, "but I'm not in the best of shape." Or more like it was a lot easier to sit at home and eat convenience store ramen than to ever go to the gym.
There was a large white church at the top of the hill, the Sacre Couer, Becky informed him. It was where she wanted to go and as far as he could tell they had two options: the stairs or the funicular railway car. And just as he was about to bust open his wallet, Becky took off up the stairs.
"No, don't do this to me," he mumbled, staring up the multiple flights of stairs the train ran alongside. But she was already to the first landing, calling back at him to hurry up. With the help of the railing, he climbed up after her. Satoshi would be amazed to learn of Nino's athletic achievements that day, he figured.
By the time he started making progress, it seemed that Becky's initial enthusiasm was wearing off. He caught up to her on the last landing, the both of them huffing and puffing and out of breath as far more responsible people walked up and down the steps at a leisurely pace around them. He had to almost drag her up the last few stairs, and they collapsed on a bench nearby, exhausted.
"Why...why the stairs?" he asked her.
"Wasn't...wasn't so bad..." she tried convincing him, but she couldn't even convince herself. "Ugh, why did I run?"
They rested side by side on the bench for a while longer than necessary, and her hand was so close their fingers were almost touching. "Got the whole rest of the day ahead of us, and you go and do that," he chastised her.
But finally she laughed, her cheeks still pink from her exertion. "I was on track team in high school, but I wasn't very good."
"Baseball," he said. "Pitcher though, didn't run as much as everyone else. Just stood on the mound."
"We've got time," she admitted. "May as well enjoy the view from this bench for a while instead."
They chatted for a good long while about things that they'd seemed to skip during their first few days of knowing one another. He told her to call him "Nino," which sounded a lot nicer coming from her lips than the too formal "Ninomiya-san."
She told him about the campus where she was staying, about her friend's situation (still hiding under her covers), and about her pending trip to London the following day. She'd be taking the train north and then through the Channel Tunnel. Nino wasn't sure he'd be too happy to be underwater in a tunnel for so long, but Becky seemed far braver than he was.
"So what about you, Nino?" she asked, trying out his nickname. "What really brings you to Paris anyhow?"
He leaned back against the bench. "To visit my friend. Satoshi. I told you."
"Okay," she said, leaning back too. "But who goes to visit a friend for such a long time? Or more like an indefinite amount of time with the way you mentioned it before. Don't you have people waiting for you back home? A job?"
He shrugged. "Just passing the time."
"You don't want to tell me."
"I've known you for two days."
"I get that." She leaned closer. "Are you on the run? Did you kill someone? Oh wait, are you a spy?"
"No, no, and no," he said with a laugh.
"Well? Is it so bad?"
Did it really matter if a stranger knew? Even if it had only been two days, he didn't get the impression that she would make fun of him for this. For his lack of interest in tourism, sure. For his thriftiness, sure. But not for this.
"I'm a writer. Ah, scratch that. I was a writer. And I tried to sell books. Put everything I had into writing. Market's tough, a hundred and sixty-two rejection letters later, and all that's waiting for me back home is a job bagging groceries or something..."
And before he knew it he was pouring his heart out to her there on that bench, being honest in a way he never really had been before, telling her how ambitious he'd once been, how much his instructors had always praised his writing. How he'd had short stories published during college. But then the well had dried up - no matter what he wrote, it wasn't good enough. He tried different genres, different points of view, different ways of seeing the world, and the publishing houses weren't looking for his voice. Instead they wanted the latest celebrity-written novel that would sell copies for the personality alone rather than any sort of writing talent. Nobody cared what Nino had to say anymore. Nobody cared about the hours he'd poured into his work.
Rejection had crushed him until he ended up just floating along, wasting his time. He was left numb and with nothing to fall back on. It was the only thing people had ever really liked about him and now that had changed. He was sending in his manuscript with no expectation but failure. When the invitation from Satoshi had come, maybe it had been a sign. It was time to give up - one last hurrah as some sort of starving artist before settling in with a job he didn't want, doing something that would never truly make him happy.
He finally looked up, feeling guilty for talking so long. She'd listened to him ramble without interruption, this strange girl. Maybe their meeting had been fated in a way after all. Maybe what he'd really just needed was someone to listen. His mom would just tell him to keep trying, Satoshi would ask him what was so bad about bagging groceries or delivering food. A person who didn't really know him could only listen.
Becky opened her purse suddenly, pulling out a little metal case that she'd decorated gaudily with stickers of flowers. She popped it open, pulled something out and got to her feet. "Let's do this properly, at least."
"Do what?"
"On your feet." He did as she ordered, wondering what she was going to demand he do next. "What genre do you write mostly?"
He laughed. "What?"
"What genre?"
"Just...general fiction, really. Everyday stories and experiences."
Then she was holding out her business card, smiling at him. "I told you on the train that it was fate, I told you and you didn't believe me!"
And there it was on the card, her name and the title "Editorial Services Assistant" listed along with her publishing company, Chuokoron-Shinsha. "They rejected me. Twice," he blurted out, hand shaking a little as he took the card into his hand.
"Well, you obviously didn't send your manuscript to the right person. I mainly work with children's and young adult books, but we get thousands of submissions every day," she said. "I'm obviously out of the office now, but when we're both back home, I can read your stuff, get it on the right desks."
He was flabbergasted. He'd completely given up, and here she was, giving him hope after so long without any. "It still may not be any good. But thank you," he said gratefully. "Why would you help me? And don't say because it's fate..."
"It's not," she insisted. "It's because you helped me, too."
--
With Becky's business card in his pocket and feeling more hopeful and sure of himself than he'd felt in months, it seemed like he became the one dragging her around. After a look inside the Sacre Coeur and a long climb to the top of the dome for more pictures, he pulled her around the neighborhood.
With the guidebook long forgotten, they wandered through the streets unhindered - Nino told her how he preferred to travel, how normal people living their lives inspired his writing. She smiled, walking at his side through narrow streets. They happened upon a square where numerous artists had set up shop for the day, tourists all around waiting for a portrait of their own. He scanned the area quickly, and Satoshi was nowhere in sight. He wondered if his friend ever worked around here.
Becky parked herself on an empty stool, smiling for a young woman artist who had set up her easel near the edge of the square. Between the two of them they seemed to work out an understanding, and Nino waited patiently while the artist started to sketch.
He realized in those minutes, seeing Becky's eyes appear on the paper, her pigtails, her smile, that Satoshi had been right. He liked her, wanted to get to know her better than he knew anyone else. It seemed strange, falling so quickly for someone he barely knew, but maybe it couldn't hurt to stop being so cynical. He'd come to Paris to escape a reality he didn't want, and a new reality had come crashing into him at the baggage carousel.
"You're smiling," she said, watching him curiously from the stool. "Is she making me look funny?"
It was a faithful reproduction, though the original copy sitting before him was obviously superior. But it was fun to tease her, and he only smiled more.
"You're lucky I have to sit still!" she threatened him with a laugh.
From the square, they continued wandering until dark. Since they had no tickets for the sold-out shows at the Moulin Rouge, Becky settled for a few pictures under the windmill. He was just about to suggest dinner (his treat, no less) when Becky's cell phone rang.
He hung back patiently while she chatted. Tomorrow he'd still be in Paris, and she'd be on her way to London. Then she'd go back to Japan, and he'd still be in Paris. But he had her business card - he had a reason to go back home sooner rather than later. It wasn't just the potential of someone taking his writing seriously that made him look forward to the future though - it was her.
When her phone call ended, she looked apologetic. "My friend wants to go out tonight, to get over things a bit...a girl's night only. I'm so sorry, Nino."
"What? Sorry? Why?"
"We were having a good time. Maybe I just don't want it to end," she admitted, looking anywhere but at his face.
"Tell her you like her," Satoshi had told him just that morning. And that was before he'd decided to pour out all his other feelings, resulting in the remarkable coincidence about where Becky worked. Nino didn't want to believe in fate. He liked the idea of his own independence a little too much, but it was all rather suspicious.
Tell her you like her.
Tell her you like her, damn it.
"Ah..." he said hesitantly. "Don't worry about it. Let me walk you to your train."
Becky's face seemed the slightest bit hurt by his cowardly response, but she soon masked it with her usual smile. "I'd appreciate it, thank you."
"I'll keep your business card, and I've got your number so I'll definitely be in touch," he said when they made it to the Metro stop. "You don't know how much it means to me that you want to help."
"I'm sure you're a great writer. You just need to get matched with the right person," she said, quickly adding, "on our editorial staff."
This was it, his last chance for a confession. The most bizarre confession of his life, no doubt, seeing as he usually waited a lot longer than three days before admitting any kind of feelings. It seemed that Becky was just a special exception. And yet his tongue was tied despite everywhere they'd been together, everything they'd come to know about one another in so short a time.
"Have a safe trip to London," he told her. "And a wonderful time there."
"Won't be the same without my tour guide," she admitted, hands shoved in her pockets.
"I know even less about England than I do about France," he told her, seeing her smile for probably the last time in a while. He wanted to kiss her then, under the street lamps with the Paris night all around them. Two ordinary enough people in ordinary circumstances, and it was enough to make him want to write a whole novel about it. And he wouldn't even care if that one got rejected.
"Well, goodbye Nino. It was fun to spend time with you. Sorry for any inconvenience I caused you."
"Not at all. Goodbye Becky. Talk to you soon."
He couldn't manage to do it. He couldn't squeak out a confession, not even at the last moment. Nino watched her wave before descending the steps to the Metro station. She disappeared from his sight, the silly pigtails vanishing. He found that he wasn't ready to go back to Satoshi's place, not yet, somehow meandering back to the steps they'd run up earlier that day.
Nino took one step at a time, slower this time, and when he got to the top he laughed.
"I like you," he muttered to himself. "Becky, I like you."
--
Satoshi only shook his head when Nino returned, filling him in on most of the day's happenings.
"She's going to try and pass my book around," he tried to explain. "It's just...it's not the right time for more than that, you know? Not if she's trying to help me professionally."
"Of course."
"And besides, I only just got here. I haven't spent nearly enough time bothering you. I can't go back home, not yet."
"Sure." Satoshi's face was just as placid as always, but his eyes told a different story.
He scowled at his friend. "You think I'm a coward."
Satoshi walked to the window, looking out. "That's the thing about writers. You think too much."
He wandered over, resting his chin on his friend's shoulder as they both stared out at the busy neighborhood far below. "I don't know her."
"Well how else are you going to know her if you don't try? And from what it sounds like, I think you've got a good shot. I don't think she'll say no. She did hang out with you for two days without pushing you into the river."
Nino smirked. "That's your vote of confidence?"
His friend chuckled. "She even told you what time her train leaves, dummy. I'll help you."
As Nino settled in for bed that night, he wondered when Satoshi had gotten so meddlesome. He'd usually been so quiet - maybe Paris changed everyone, at least a little bit.
--
Satoshi's friend in the neighborhood was a taxi driver, and even with the Paris morning rush, the guy seemed to know all the back alleyways and quieter streets to zoom through, crossing the Seine to head back to the Gare du Nord. He'd have to catch her before she went through the check-in gate since he didn't feel like paying for a Eurostar ticket, even with the impulsiveness he was already experiencing.
For his part Satoshi seemed almost as excited as Nino felt, which was rare for him if it didn't involve painting and sketching. He'd insisted on coming since the train station itself was so large. They thanked his friend as they came flying up to the station, Nino nearly losing his breakfast from the crazy driving.
Then they were off, Satoshi tugging him along as Nino fumbled with his cell phone. "Should I call her?" he was muttering. "If she's already gone this was pointless..."
"Don't call her!" Satoshi said, "it's more like a movie if your eyes meet across the room."
"This is a pretty damn big room, idiot!" Nino grumbled back, hurrying under a big departure board. Eurostar, he kept telling himself. He had to find the Eurostar.
Satoshi dragged him around a corner towards the ticket counter, and they crashed into another customer, knocking her obnoxiously green bags over as she came hurrying from the opposite direction.
"Nino..."
He looked up from where he'd stumbled, righting her suitcase quickly. Green bags, green eyes, and the smile he'd so easily been drawn in by.
"Becky."
Satoshi was already walking off, hands in his pockets as though he was just another stranger in the station. Didn't he want to stay and gloat about the movie-like encounter? Maybe he'd just tease him later.
They got her bags together, moving aside and out of the way. "What are you doing here?" she asked, face bright red.
"When does your train leave?"
"About 30 minutes," she said. "But why are you here?"
It was a strange feeling, being in the crowded train station. Tourists and natives alike hurrying around for their trains, announcements echoing in a language he'd never understand, the smell of fresh bread wafting from one of the dozens of stores in the massive station. And yet he only had eyes for her.
She didn't even protest when he leaned in to gently kiss her, tasting some oddly fruity gloss on her lips. If she was shocked, she got over it quickly enough, closing the distance between them to hold his hands. It was too much of a coincidence, too ridiculous that he'd turned a corner and there she was. There was no reasonable explanation.
When they broke apart, he smiled and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Guess it must be fate."