Crush Me

Nineteen.

Wilson

I hope the Uber driver speaks English. Mom was so happy to hear my voice. Why did I quit calling her? Oh yeah, Dad and his threats to take my phone away if he ever found her number on my bill again. And the broken rib he gave me to make sure of it. God, I hate him.

"I let the Uber driver know you would be wearing your jacket. The colors are easy to spot." Wilson heard a beep at the end of the line of taxis and spotted an arm waving. "That must be him."

"Give me a second," Leanne said. "I want to take a couple of pictures of this hotel. The architecture is so over the top. I've never seen anything like it."

"We'll be back for dinner and you can take more then." He stopped and waited while she snapped two. "I don't really like it. All those curved crown moldings and accents covered in gold leaf."

"Is it real gold? Or just painted to look like it?" Leanne asked as she caught up with him.

"Probably real." Wilson opened the back passenger door and waved Leanne into the seat.

"Can you open the trunk? I have a couple of bags." He hoped the man could understand English.

"Oui, Monsieur." The driver shot out of his seat and disappeared toward the rear of the vehicle.

Thank you, God. It's so nice to be understood. No issues here.

Wilson walked to the back and when he went to lift his suitcase, the driver grabbed it.

"Non, Monsieur, I'll do it. How is Paris treating you?"

"Wonderfully. Merci."

"It's a short trip." The driver closed the trunk lid softly and waved Wilson into the car.

Nice guy. Takes care of his equipment too.

The trip really was short. Barely five minutes even with the congested traffic. He tipped five Euros. The smile and the help with the bags was more than worth it. His back ached abominably where bruise over his kidney throbbed.

"Take care of your beautiful lady." The driver unloaded their luggage onto the sidewalk and waved goodbye.

Leanne was reading the sign on a sparkling clear glass door. "Your mother didn't keep her maiden name."

Doctresse (Doctor) Elise Quaring

Psychiatre (Psychiatrist)

Spécialiste de la Sexualité (Specialist in Sexuality)

"My parents used to be in love. Before Dad started drinking, and things fell apart, we did everything together. Willa was born while Mom was still in university. I was born just after she started her private practice back in Atlanta." Wilson pulled the door open and a set of tiny bells hanging from the closer jingled softly.

"Elise, they're here!" The young man at the desk called out.

The swinging door beside the reception desk slammed open and a petite woman slightly shorter than Leanne barreled through into the waiting area. She stopped short of Wilson, and her eyes traveled up and down his tall frame.

"Mon Dieu (My God) you've grown. Not quite as tall as your father, but so much his son. You remind me of the boy I fell in love with." She threw her arms around him hugging hard before she pulled his face down and kissed both his cheeks. Wilson wrapped her in another tight hug, burying his face in her hair. Tears threatened.

Elise snagged a couple of tissues off the reception desk counter. Blew her nose and handed one to Wilson.

"Introduce me to your friend. Such a beauty too."