In the Interlude

Chapter 5 - Meeting in Paris

Aïcha couldn't wait to get back home. To be back in Casablanca and hold her daughter in her arms. Only one dodo left, as Mia used to say when she was little, counting the number of 'sleeps' left before Aïcha or Idriss came back from a trip.

Only one dodo left.

Savouring the calm before the storm on this Friday morning, Aïcha stretched on the bed and, reaching for her phone, scrolled down the list of contacts. She stopped at the letter T.

T as in Thomas H. That was the name by which she had saved his number on her phone, and her mind went back to the phone call the day before.

Her heart had beat just a tiny bit faster than usual at the sound of his low and raspy voice inviting her for a cup of coffee, just like it was doing now. It was an exhilarating feeling, one she hadn't felt in a long time.

But fear and doubt had also tied a knot in her stomach, staying there with no intention to leave.

The fear about wandering out-of-her-comfort-zone. She didn't do coffee and afternoon tea with handsome British strangers met in the Eurostar. Heck, she didn't do coffee and afternoon tea with anyone but her close friends.

And then there was the doubt about Tom's sanity and her own. Why did he want to see her again? It certainly was not for the off-the-beaten-path secrets she may, or may not, have. And why in the name of God did she accept again? She sighed loudly as she pushed herself out of bed.

Aïcha had planned to visit a retrospective of Black & White French photography. She had always been an amateur photographer, her friends and family relying on her to take pictures during their gatherings or vacations. Her passion had grown even more since she became a mother. It was a way for her to freeze time, if only for a moment.

But her passion died three years ago and her camera was put away in an unmarked box, hidden out of sight in storage. Still, she could never stay away too long from an exhibition. And Black & White photography held an emotional pull she simply could not resist.

Aïcha had first thought about inviting Tom to come along but she quickly decided against it. She finally suggested to meet at four pm in "Le loir dans la théière", a little café in the Jewish neighbourhood close by known as Le Marais.

In her mind, it would be easier this way to cut things short if needed- if only she could stop second-guessing herself. In fact, she was already regretting the whole thing as she stood in front of her suitcase with every single piece of clothing she had on the floor.

Sofia, who worked from home on Fridays, came asking if her friend wanted some tea. "Did a tornado ravage your suitcase?" She blinked in astonishment as she entered the room, eyeing Aïcha suspiciously.

"Just trying to decide what to wear. I'm meeting someone this afternoon," said Aïcha very slowly, trying to read her friend's reaction.

"Who? A client? A friend? Someone I know?"

Aïcha sighed and took out her phone. She might as well get this over with. She googled Tom and showed her friend the first image that popped out on the search engine.

"Who's that? Am I supposed to know him?"

"Do you remember that BBC show we used to watch? The Shakespeare adaptation? The Hollow Crown? Well, meet Henry V, Madame!"

"No way."

"Oh yes, way."

"Okay, I'm listening. Tell me everything from the beginning and don't leave anything out."

A blushing Aïcha recounted everything and didn't leave anything out. The fact that she almost spilt coffee on him, their second encounter in the Eurostar, his phone call and of course, all the questions swirling in her own mind. Her heart was racing just from spilling the beans to Sofia.