“Sometimes the risk is so great we are forced to change.”
I can feel the warmth from his lips still on mine, the curve of a smile still present.
This moment is unlike any before. I feel reborn.
Our carriage ride through the park is met with tiny kisses and stolen embraces. When we finally exit the ride it is as if we transported back in time, to the beginning…only better.
My eyes have been opened to what this may become.
One week later…
I FIND HIM STANDING next to one of the medieval statues that line the entrance of our building. Alexandre leans forward and gently places a kiss on my cheek as he lets me in on our next location…the New York Public Library. We decide to walk the twenty two blocks, stopping at a street vendor to share a pretzel. The distance feels like nothing as we laugh and reminisce. We talk about everything and nothing. I tell him about my sessions with Dr. Singer and my attempts at journaling my life; he tells me how his business is doing. Before we know it, we round the corner at 40th street and are greeted with one of my favorite architectural structures in all of Manhattan.
Two large marble lions stand proudly in front of the building. They appear to be guarding the treasure that lives within. The building, which is crafted out of pink Tennessee marble, might for some seem a bit ostentatious, but to me, it’s awe-inspiring. A literary piece of heaven for all to share. Hand in hand we make our way into the imposing structure. Taking each grand step, we make our way inside. Although millions of dollars were used to renovate from the original built in 1895, you would never know as you step into the classic New York landmark. The integrity of the structure was never lost, just enhanced. Dimly lit, classic art adorns the ceiling leading into the famous Rose Main Reading Room.
As we sit down at a long rectangular table, we take seats directly across from each other. Alexandre sits but quickly lifts his him to pull something from his jeans pocket. He takes out a piece of folded up paper, surprisingly enough he also has a pen in his jeans. He begins to scribble on the paper.
Hi
He slides the paper toward me.
Hey
I write back before pushing it back to him. His hands start to put words on paper, and I wait patiently to see what he has to say.
So how am I doing? Scale of 1 to 10?
I laugh. An elderly lady sitting diagonally across from me shoots me a disapproving glare. Her pointy nose scrunches up with distaste. I place my hand quickly over my mouth to muffle the sounds escaping against my best attempt to stop them. I’m mortified as I can’t stop myself from laughing contagiously. My cheeks heat up, blushing uncontrollably. Breathing in a few times, I regulate myself and write back.
So far a solid 8.5
As he reads the note he fights his own laughter. Sweeping my long hair away from my face I smile at him. We stare at each other and time stands still. I look up to the ceiling and become lost in the mural painted above. A canopy of vibrant blue skies and clouds hovers above me in simplistic beauty. Lowering my eyes back to Alexandre, our eyes lock for several minutes before his attention is back on what he should write. He pauses in contemplation.
Do you want to go outside to talk?
I look into his eyes, and I can see the depths of the pain lying within them from all the mistakes we have made. I sit absolutely still. The air around me becomes thick with remorse, but I remember that I cannot step backwards. Nodding my head, he stands up and we start to make our way outside. As we begin walking I notice that sitting atop of the long oak table is an oversized book. Reaching out, I place my fingertips gently on the old pages of a dictionary. As I touch the inside words, light flickers off the bronze lamps adjacent to the large book. The room is bathed in a glow from the lamps and sunlight streaming in through the large windows. I look at Alexandre…the copper highlights in his hair reflecting the illumination. Smiling, he takes my hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. “Let’s go sit on the steps. Okay?” He continues to hold me as we make our way outside, and as he pushes the door open, he places the palm of his hand on the small of my back, sending a rush of heat through me. “Shall we sit here?” I draw in a slow breath as he speaks, turning my face to him I smile brightly. “This is perfect.”
“I love to see you smile.” He takes a short shallow breath, and then he exhales. “The thing is Ava…I love everything about you, and I’m sorry for every comment I ever said to you to make you feel otherwise.” His fingers rub circles across my spine, the silence stretching between us.
“It’s so silly, Alexandre, but at the time I wanted to be someone’s reason for breathing. I know that’s not rational…or even healthy. But back then I was neither.”