A Voir Sans

I. Pont Marie

The time was 12:38 p.m., and the huddled mass of young Americans had finally reached their stop. With a screech and a jolt, the metro train had stilled and its doors slid open to reveal a small but charming station by the name of Pont Marie. To greet them was the sound of a gentle stampede, the rush of people exiting and entering the subway car, mumbling a chorus of "excusez mois" and shoving past. The leader of the group, a senior girl named Isabel, whose ash blonde hair and pallid skin reminded those riding with her of a ghost who died of fright. She had wiry limbs, narrow coat hanger shoulders, and muted clothes that hung off her body as if they were afraid of contact. She moved in small, nervous bursts and spoke by barely opening her mouth, as if she were trying to form syllables without exhaling; as a result, her words lingered in the air, a haunting of instruction, and was left unheard by those around her.

"Exit as a group, everyone, and head to the fountain to your left."

The four other students appeared to look right through their guide, only one nodded her head and offered a slight smile. There was Mina, an unimpressed, stiff-lipped sophomore who rarely let out a smirk unless something was given to her. She had dark, hawk like eyes and a voice that sounded like clanging metal. She looked down at her phone, new and uncased in her manicured hand, and ignored the rest of the group with a conviction bordering on religious fervor. Beside her was Kate, a red-haired junior with a plump, pleasant face splashed with freckles. In both action and appearance, Kate gave the impression to be much younger than she was. She had a distracted, whimsical air about her, often humming to herself or staring off into the distance. She was only brought down to earth with a mention of her name, which was always met with a good natured "Huh?" in her heavy Louisiana twang. She spoke in a rushed whirlwind of words that left those listening to her feeling dizzy. And as the train came to a stop, she talked cheerily to Evan, drowning out Isabel's faint voice. Evan was a senior and a valued member of Tulane's football team. At six foot five, he towered above most of the world. His demeanor, though, was modest, shy even. Most people on campus knew his name, but very few had any knowledge of him beyond that. He smirked and turned his body towards Kate, giving her the occasional nod. He liked Kate because she did most of the talking and eased the panicked feeling socialization gave him.

Standing beside them all was Olivia, a sophomore who was also the only person to acknowledge Isabel. She had sat across from her and the professor on the plane and they had struck up a friendly, but brief conversation on their hopes for the trip. They were both from the same ward of New Orleans and it was the first time leaving Louisiana for both of them. Isabel piqued Olivia's curiosity. In fact, they all did, especially Professor Kane and his self-imposed uniform of tweed blazers, crisply starched and ironed button downs, and the gold wedding band always worn on the wrong finger, as well as the eccentric, forward, but still slightly secretive nature about him. She watched them all with eyes that were wide and pensive, dusk-like in the tunnel of the metro but would soon be a warm and golden amber when struck by the Parisian sun. She enjoyed observing others, as she believed it was only through the nuances of action that people showed who they really were. In fact, she had the occasional habit of turning around in movie theaters to see the expression of the faces in the dark. It was the split second between genuine reaction and delayed facade, the way people behaved and carried themselves when they thought no one would notice, that struck her as profound and refreshing. She meant no harm or invasion by it, and always kept her observations, like most things, to herself.

For example; Isabel was having an affair with the professor.

Olivia had her suspicions since the third week in the semester. Dr. Kane, who asked to be called Andrew, had the habit of directing his lectures towards Isabel, throwing a joke in and turning away with a pink splotch across his freshly shaven face when she would look up at him with a soft, coy smile at the corner of her mouth. He was also the only person Olivia ever saw Isabel make direct eye contact with. Which was why it was such a surprise to all but her when he gave the shy and silent girl the responsibility of leading the trip beside him. Their French class figured Isabel had many natural talents, mostly because Professor Kane would laud her for them, but leadership, quite evidently, was not one of them. Even now, he had to call upon the group to listen and follow them out of the station. As they made their way up the stairs and onto the street, Olivia couldn't help but notice the way Kane's hand gently cradled Isabel's lower back as he guided her forward without a word.