Wish You Were Here [sporadic updates]

Chapter 3: Amelia's jour de fromage

Author's note: 

At the same time, I have no excuse yet I have several excuses for not updating this. So I'll just keep it to myself.

To the side, I think, should be the introduction scene to Midnight in Paris. I love the song and Paris looks beautiful in the rain. It really does.

I would also suggest watching Amelie for a little, quirky taste of France. The soundtrack is amazing too.

I'm going to try my best to continue this story so wish me luck.

Dedicated to defend because I just finished Eleven O'Clock Number and it gave me a little burst of inspiration to continue with this.

Happy reading! :)

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My foot wouldn't stop moving so my leg kept jittering up and down during dinner. Dad and I managed to agree to be nice to each other after our little spat. He would glance at my leg from time to time so I'd stop. Then he'd look away and it'd start jittering again.

Look at leg. Stop. Look away. Start jittering again. Look at leg. Stop. Process starts all over again until-

"Oh for Christ's sake! What's the matter with you, Mia? And stop bloody vibrating your leg, its making the table wobble!" He shoved his cutlery away from himself. Apparently my leg had disrupted his peaceful meal.

"I'm not vibrating my leg! Its jittering on its own bloody accord!" I gestured my hands towards my leg, which seemed to have a mind of its own with all its jittery activity.

"Why is it jittering then?!"

"Because I'm nervous!"

Dad looked taken aback by my response, "Okay, alright love, why are you nervous?"

"Because... because I have to tell you something and I'm afraid you won't like it or you'll hate me or you'll think I've gone bonkers and ship me off to a mental institute."

His left eyebrow twitched upwards, betraying his need to laugh at the current crazy stream of words flowing out of my mouth.

"And why, my dearest daughter, would I feel the urge to send you to one of those?"

I paused. It wasnt for effect. I was imagining every single scenario that could pan out if I told him the truth. He could disown me - he could get so angry that I'd even said such words that he'd send me packing to Aunt Elsie's for all eternity. Or he'd send me to a psychiatrist. I shuddered inwardly at the thought of spewing my innermost thoughts (some of which had no depth or substance) to a complete stranger. He could laugh, and think it was just another one of my weird jokes that he could never get, even though I got my own unique brand of humour from him.

Only one way to find out.

I'd realised that while I was submersed in my own world, Dad had been waiting for me to speak for quite a bit. My brief pensive silence had sucked out all the playfulness in the air. And now Dad was concerned. I also noticed that he had now popped the kettle on.

Well shit. Tea meant business.

Clearing my throat, I mentally braced myself to just say it:

"You remember the postcard I got through the post? Well,I think its magic because somehow Mum talked to me through it because she overheard me crying. Then she asked why I was crying so I told her all about how you wouldn't let go off around Europe with my friends before we all go off to uni so she said I could go to France and I thought you'd think I was crazy if I told you I got permission from Mum to go to a different country using a magic postcard. But before I could say anything this big bright light absorbed me and I woke up in Paris."