Fluctuat nec Mergitur

Chapter 15

I'd sat up at night for the first time in weeks. I never stopped having nightmares, but I could sleep though them or wake up briefly. Before we'd come to Europe, I'd begun to see things in daytime. Those had gone into remission.

I just couldn't force myself to close my eyes. It's not that I don't want to, but every time I try, I just the same thing as always, and it's still frightening.

It was almost 9. Lauren had been passed out for hours, and most likely wouldn't wake up for more. I pulled on my jacket and left the apartment, making sure to take my key.

Our apartment is a few blocks in from the Seine, in the fourth arrondissement, so the Louvre wasn't far away. Something interesting that I'd never seen before has to be in there.

The sky was beginning to light with traces of midsummer pink. There was barely a line for the museum. I felt a little bad for leaving Lauren alone, but I really needed to get out of there.

There was a boy in front of me in line who carried a professional camera, taking photos of the early sunrise. He fumbled to hold it with his case and another bag in his hands. When he moved to get a new angle, he dropped his lens cap. I picked it up. He was so engaged in his photos that he hadn't noticed.

"You dropped something." I said, as politely as possible for me. He immediately stopped what he was doing to look at me.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You dropped your, uh, you dropped your thing." I held it out to him, only then realizing that he didn't have hands to hold it.

"I'm sorry, it's way too early for me. Can you hold onto it until we get inside?" He acted like we'd come here together.

"Uh, yeah, sure." I looked at the lens cap. It was awkwardly bulky and wasn't about to fit in any of my pockets.

The boy fumbled around in his pockets for his ID and the security guard reminded him that there was no flash photography. I got the same warning, although I carried nothing but my jacket, which underwent a scan. The boy was taking an awful lot of time putting all his things on the belt.

"I didn't come here to stare at this wall all day while you sort your things." I said teasingly, although I barely knew him.

"I'm so sorry." He started rushing unnecessarily, sounding like he was starting to cry, and dropped his phone. I grabbed it and handed it back to him.

"Stop apologizing." I tossed his lens cap on top of my jacket.

"I - I'm sorry, I mean, uh, I'm having a rough week." He pushed his things through the scanner harder than he needed to.

I helped him carry his things to a bench in the first exhibit room, where he could organize himself. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's early." He sighed. "My parents are really upset with me because I'm a photographer instead of a doctor, I moved out of their house last year at 17, and now I've told them I won't come home for Bastille Day. My mom's furious."

"Why not?"

"I told them it was because of my job, and in part, it is, but they acted like I was making excuses. They told me I'm just like my brother, who won't be home for the holiday either because he's a crackhead in prison."

"Sure, they want to see you, but it's a minor holiday." I sat next to him on the bench.

"That's what I said! I'm going to be here taking photos of the celebration. The thing is, I wasn't home for Christmas either. I was in Wales!" He put his head in his hands. "Oh my God, I've just told you my entire life story."