Illustration by Samantha HahnI left my computer in the living room on during when I heard my skype phone ring. It was Sébastien. Finally! Someone French and normal! I have been with my family too long if I'm finding relief and normalcy in the French.
I leaped over the couch to my computer to pick up. I didn't want to miss regaining a morsel of my life, where Paris isn't looked upon as some hippie town in the Pacific Northwest and picnics in the park aren't deemed as dreamer activity. "Bonsoir" his deep and groggy voice said as he turned the video on. Since it was 3am Paris time, the video revealed a half asleep Sébastien, sitting up in his bed, hair sticking up in 4 different directions wearing his thick pre-contact glasses. I lit up at the sight of him, I wanted to jump through the computer and eat him. I carefully filled him on the veil drama, not wanting to show that I was too upset and that I was planning on a wedding in said veil. It was the principle that bothered me. My mother wore this when she married my Father and it was just offered off with no consideration to my feelings. I did get some satisfaction recounting the story in French, where no one understood. A bit evil, but so was pawning off a family heirloom to a n'importe qui.
It is moments like these that I miss Monsieur Flâneur. He knows my family and noticed before me even influencing him, that my cousin and his fiancée were always treated specially. He would have completely ate up this family gossip, that this girl was given something that was saved for me and would have reassured me that I wasn't being crazy. I was tempted to call him but must force myself to cut him off and give someone else a chance to think that my family is completely off the wall. Bienvenue Sébastien. I hung up with Sébastien after he advised me to apply sunscreen and that he missed me. I actually miss him too.
After I finished my 'visit' as my Grandfather called it. There was a knock on the villa door. It was a native Bahamian man. He apologized for disturbing us during dinner but was stopping by look for any donations that we would like to make to the local church. Normal people would either say yes and pull out their checkbook or no and slam the door but my Grandfather welcomed him in and proceeded to asked questions about the church and their 'mission'. Delighted with my Grandfather's interest, the man took this an an opportunity to display photos of the gospel choir singing in unison during a mass, hurricane relief initiatives, Sunday school 'action shots' and the church's quarterly donation revenue. We had to stop him when he pulled out a DVD. This went on for 40 minutes and we couldn't continue eating because we didn't have enough for him nor were we expecting him in the first place. Our food was getting cold and my grandfather continued asking further questions about the staff, the soup kitchen and how many 'worshippers' they get per week. "Dolly! We're going to starve over here! Wrap this up!" my Grandmother finally intervened. Ok, starve is a little dramatic but bored? Yes, I'd say we were getting bored. My grandfather finally sent him off with a box of food for the parish. Pasta e Fagioli, 5 boxes of penne, 2 bottles of olives, a speared branzino and a 3 gallon can of olive oil. You know, 'The Staples'. Clearly the man was looking for a donation more in the form of cash because he did not say thank you and walked away disgruntled while carrying a ton of Italian paraphernalia. Never knock on an Italian's door when you want something quick, free and easy. Doesn't everyone know that?
Despite certain oversights, I am enjoying the time spent with my family, but the longer I am here, the more I realize that my life and home is in Paris. As challenging as this year was, its going to take a lot more than a broken relationship and mundane job to get me to move back to New York where every choice I make is up for discussion. At least I only have to hear twice a year that moving to France was ridiculous and that I am wasting my life away. I know a handful of people who would disagree. Viva la France!
