She is Mine

“Hey, you’re just the messenger, Martin. I know that. I was just hoping to let off a little steam this weekend rather than be holed up with you in Lille.”

“Well, the old man leaves for Hong Kong tomorrow afternoon, so you’ll be free to leave Lille then. I know it’s not a chalet in St. Moritz, but Millie’s friend is having some sort of party tomorrow night in Paris. I’ll text you the details. Maybe it’ll be fun.”

“Married with three kids fun, or fun-fun, Martin?” I joke. I love him for trying, I do.

I hear my train’s departure announced over the loudspeaker and say goodbye to my brother. I pick up the pace and make it to the platform just in time. It isn’t a long ride up north to my grandfather’s estate, but it’s plenty of time to close my eyes and go back to Bali and Weaver. I’m a gentleman, of course. I can’t let even imaginary-Weaver put on her own tanning oil.

3

Weaver

The taxi drops me off in front of the address Kate texted me. I wasn’t going to risk taking the metro wearing my three-inch heals tonight. I’ve gone all out for Kate’s big night. I decided to wear bright yellow. It will have special meaning to Kate. I bought this jumpsuit with a surplice neckline in New York, the fabric crossing over at my chest into a plunging neckline. It makes me feel sexy and playful. The perfect combination for tonight.

I take in Kate’s restaurant from the outside. It’s hard to believe it’s really hers. The restaurant sits on a small market street in the heart of Paris. The street is cobblestoned and lined with balconies overflowing with bright red geraniums. Warm yellow light pours out from the large windows of the restaurant. Above the door is an old Hollywood marquee style sign with multicolored chasing lights. The restaurant is called L’Arc-en-Ciel, rainbow in French. I smile, remembering warmly the times in college when Kate and I would whisper at night about the pot of gold waiting for us at the end of our rainbows. College wasn’t a breeze for either of us, but with each other’s support, we worked hard so we could be on our way to fulfilling our dreams. That’s why I’ve chosen the bright yellow jumpsuit tonight, to remind Kate of all those years and that she’s finally arrived at her pot of gold. The irony of dressing up as a pot of gold for her success while success eludes me, stings. For a minute, I want to turn around and go back to my studio and sulk, feeling so beaten down compared to Kate. But no! My time will come, the universe will deliver, and as soon as I get home I’ll be on my way, barreling down my own road to success. I have a long, bumpy road ahead of me, but I’m not going to look at Kate’s success as a rebuke to my own life. It should be an inspiration. In a year, maybe she’ll be toasting my accomplishments.

With a genuine smile on my face and excited butterflies in my tummy, I open the door to L’Arc-en-Ciel and stride inside. The interior is beautiful. It isn’t a traditional French bistro but has some of those elements. The booths are sleek and modern, but the walls are covered in antiqued mirrors and a few mounted bore and deer heads. The latter are likely Marie-Lore’s influence. Waiters circulate with trays of champagne and delicious looking appetizers. I quickly help myself to a drink while I scan the room looking for Kate. It doesn’t take long to find her, and soon she meets my eyes and is practically sprinting across the restaurant to me.

“Weaver! I can’t believe it’s you,” she says, hugging me so hard I almost drop my champagne. “I knew I could count on you, but this is extra!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And I can’t believe all of this. Kate! This is incredible!” I say, gesturing to everything around us, practically spilling my champagne again.

“It’s been an intense few weeks, but we had to strike while the iron was hot. This location is a dream and Marie-Lore insisted we wouldn’t get an opportunity to lease a space like this again. So tonight’s our soft-opening, getting the staff acquainted with the kitchen, seeing which dishes are the most popular, and then in two weeks we open to the public. That’s when the real madness begins. I’m ready for it, though. It’s everything I’ve dreamed of.”

She looks transcendent and so satisfied. Exhausted too, but I keep that to myself. I always believed in Kate, and any envy or hesitation I had outside evaporates.

“But what about you Weaver? I’ve been so busy with the move and the restaurant opening we’ve barely spoken in the last year. I don’t have the foggiest idea what you’ve been up to.” She looks at me expectantly.