Light Blue

Part xxxix- Decision in Reality

39

The Paris metro pulls creakily from station to station as I knot my fingers in my lap, the journal beneath them. Evening commuters sat around me clearly impatient to get to their stop, obvious from the exasperated flourish of the broadsheet newspaper and the annoyingly loud music blaring from several sets of headphones- the looks on their faces are tired and worn, but in the corner of my eye I see one couple holding hands and smiling- the only ones in this compartment. I resist turning my head and kept my eye line firmly down like everyone else. It's amazing, the human race. We know when to stop, when to laugh, when to cry and this time we avoid eye contact in an unspoken agreement and at this time, I appreciate human ignorance; I was not looking for distraction.

I walk up the escalator, stuffing my journal into my pocket, brushing past people with briefcases and backpacks. The discerning difference between a businessman and a tourist. When I walk towards the Eiffel Tower, I expected myself to start panicking, but surprisingly all was calm and collected. No traces of the butterflies or the hyperventilation. Nothing

 I wonder where he is and almost sigh to myself, thinking he would be impossible to find- but then I see a flicker of red in the distance; I wait once again for the panic, but it stays put and I smile to myself. The flicker of red moves closer and I walk towards it as well.

"Hi," he says shyly. He holds out his hand in slight embarrassment and I take the object from him.

"Hi."

Not saying another word, we turn in sync and falteringly start toward the Eiffel Tower, laughing nervously before breaking into a smooth stride. Behind me a red heart shaped balloon bobs in the air.

The elevator ride up is quiet, only a few people were there. Some looked at the balloon strangely and I discreetly pushed it down behind me and tied it around my wrist. On the observation deck we are separated by the moving crowd of people towards the exit and by the time it clears, he's already by the railings, hands deep in pocket and looking out over the city. I join him quickly and clear my throat.

"So."

He clears his throat as well. "Yes, so."

"Where did you go?"

He breathes out and briefly closes his eyes. "Back home."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I had to sort a few things out."

"Sorry."

He raises one eyebrow. "What for?"

"I don't know, I just... am."

 Silence stretches between us and I drum my fingers lightly on the railing in front of me.

"Emily and I, well that's really finished," he says carefully.

Again. No butterflies. I don't reply. He looks out over the city again and then back to me quickly.

"Earlier, you agreed to meet with me once again, for a second chance. Delilah," he pauses and I look up at him, waiting. "These last few weeks have been... odd. To put it lightly. I didn't expect myself to well, fall in love with someone else in such a short time and how it was possible, it completely beats me. But..." He stops again and steels himself to speak again. "Now I want to know that coming back wasn't in vain. I want to know, Delilah, do you love me?"

The million pound question and straight to it. My toes flex in my shoes and a distant part of my mind is ready to just shut down and walk, but a calm wave washes over me and I look him straight in the eye and say for the first time directly to him. "I do love you Oscar."