I was sitting alone eating a scone in front of the library when one of the thousands of red leaves from a nearby tree fell into my lap. I picked up, twirling it between my fingers gingerly. Suddenly inspired, I pulled out my little leather notebook and a blue pen from my knapsack.
"An Autumn love; dangerous and forbidding; ending before it truly begins/
A Winter love; it has no hope at all; only the cold to comfort you/
A Spring love; blooming and beautiful, so full of life/
A Summer love; that the best of all, it is our love."
"Ye're the lovely Parisian lassie, some'ning like Marilyn." A heavy Scottish brood filled my ears and I dropped the leaf, started.
"Yes, that would be me." I squinted up at the tiny girl peering down at me. She had her blond hair chopped into a short bob with bangs that cut straight across her petit face. Her glassy blue eyes glinted in the sunlight as her small smile stayed perched on her lips.
"I didn't mean to startle ye, I was just passin' through and I saw you."
"How do you know me?"
"How do I ken ye? Weel my roommate's boyfriend is a friend of yours I believe. And I'm Michael's cousin."
"So, that would make you Raya's roommate?"
She laughed, "Weel sometimes. Raya prefers her man's comfort more than mine." This girl's laugh was a beautiful tinkling noise so full of happiness.
"What's your name?" I asked
"Oh right, I'm Cessi Fraser." She awkwardly stuck out her hand, so I decided to do the traditional French greeting. I kissed both of her cheeks and then shook her hand.
"I'm Marilyn deBoncoeur."
"What is it that ye're writin'?" she sat down next to me, freckled nose centimeters from my notebook.
"Oh," I blushed nervously, "It's a poem about love."
"It's verra short." She said bluntly, "Do you write longer ones as well?"
"Sometimes I do, although poetry is not my best feature."
"Mais, tu connansias le ville du Amour, c'est vrai non?" But you know the city of Love, isn't that true?
"Oui, c'est vrai." I thought suddenly of that first night with Gerald when we talked briefly about love and he had quickly shot down my ideas of it. Now he said he love me.
Little Cessi had moved on, "Ye have a man, do ye not? For only when yer truly in love can ye write about love."
"I can write about love without being in love." I said defensively
"Are ye sure?" before I could answer I heard heavy feet coming towards us at a fast pace.
"Cessi! Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you! And I told you not to talk to strangers, they aren't as nice here as they are in-oh hey Marilyn."
"Bonjour." I said with a giggle, Michael's face was flushed red from the effort of looking for his wayward cousin.
"Well, I'm glad you two met. I was hoping to introduce you but...oh well." He smiled and I smiled back.
"What'cha writing?" he asked leaning forward.
"Oh nothing-poetry." I covered it up quickly and then shoved the notebook in my bag. "Why were you looking for Cessi?"
"Oh, her boyfriend is in town."
"Yes! Oh what a surprise!" she squealed, "Where is he?"
"In front of the courtyard with a bouquet of flowers." She squealed again and dashed off to find her boyfriend.
YOU ARE READING
We Will Always Have Paris
Romance"Love," he scoffs, "is for the dreamers." "And are you not a dreamer, Monsieur?" She asks "I guess I am." And so it begins, the love story that spans social class, two continents, college life, shows every other night, and the two people beautifull...
