The Things I Wish I Had Told You

Part 16.

"So, where do we go from here?" I pronounced into the phone as Marina listened attentively to my recollection of the night before.

"Just to be clear, you didn't have sex, right?" I was trying to determine whether or not she was judging me or just plainly shocked. I knew I was.

"Marina, I think I've lost myself. I just did the very thing I spent so much time convincing myself was never to happen." I felt my heart beat increasingly faster as I felt my emotions and thoughts spiralise.

"You're young, you're supposed to have fun. If it was what you wanted, just let it be." I sensed that Marina felt sorry for me that I had to do that to myself but at the same time, I remembered the conversation at the brasserie. Love, or rather infatuation in this case, comes in many forms. Sometimes we need to try new things to appreciate the things that matter.

"So, how are things in London?" I asked hoping that she would mention something about him.

"London's the same old as ever. It seems so much dryer without you and Louise to share nights with. Now, I have to entertain myself with Jacob and Cameron."

"What are they up to these days?" Marina still didn't know about my feelings for Cameron or what had happened between us. At least from my perspective, she didn't.

"Cameron is still with that girl," she paused trying to remember her name. "You know, the one with the black hair," she was about to continue listing her traits before I cut her off. I wanted to know how he was so that I could remind myself that there is more beyond him. At that point, I told Marina about Antoine, whom I felt much less excited to see after last night. Not because I didn't want to, but because something about the series of events of these few days made me feel like I was flipping through a series of cards, discarding them as I flicked to the next and put the last one at the bottom of the pile.

Listening to Marina's perspective on the situation, I began to ask myself why these things happen. I was trying to understand why that had happened last night. Not just because it involved Ambrose, but also because of the foreign sentiments I experienced for Claudie. What about Cameron or Antoine? What would happen between Ambrose and I? What did I want to happen with Claudie? Questions like these whirled inside of me, creating a sensation of uncontrollable nausea that was only exacerbated by the hangover. Despite all of the taboos that I would have associated with a threesome, I cannot deny its nature. None of us were pressuring each other to do things we did not want. All of us wanted to be there with each other. But still, I couldn't make sense of what its purpose was. There were three of us, all of whom must have shared some attraction towards each other, but was there something deeper? I couldn't be sure. I was certain, however, that it would never happen again. As I kissed Ambrose, it only made my feelings for Cameron crystal clear. Now, the hardest part would be informing him of this, else I would forever lurk in Jade's shadow. And I was not prepared to be Cameron's back up girlfriend.

I continued to reflect on the events of last night as I forced myself to get ready to meet Antoine that afternoon. I was brushing my teeth when I began to think back to that first moment my lips connected with Caludie's, and then Ambrose's as if the motion of my head was a steel ball in a newton's cradle. That's how I felt in between them. I was a prisoner of a romantic force that pushed my actions towards each of my counterparts without any genuine choice in the matter. There was no internal thrust, I was just complying with the laws of amorous physics. That was the morning I realised that the way we see romance and experience it are two very different spheres of life. Antoine was right when he said that love comes in many forms and isn't as rigid as we first assume. But this was nowhere near love. It was an experiment; something you make sure you do before you're thirty for one of your bucket lists. But I realised this wasn't the type of romantic activity that was on mine. And what would Cameron say? Thinking that, I boldly assumed he actually cared about me and not just the intricate details of how I would lose my virginity. At least I still had that. Although now I felt as if the purity I believed I once held dearly had been stained by unconventional practices. Most importantly, as I closed my eyes, I saw the concept of virginity that stood perched on an ivory pedestal disappear. It wasn't that it was stolen or broken. I saw it disappear into the ether that harboured many of the social concepts we assume are substantial.

That afternoon, just as we planned, I met Antoine in the Jardins de Luxembourg. He was sitting under a tree that would have had leaves if it were summer. He wore all black, including a turtleneck jumper, and relaxed with a copy of The Mandarins until I disturbed him.

"Katherine, I'm pleased to see you," he said before momentarily standing up and greeting me with a kiss on either cheek. Knowing how much I loved philosophy, he sought to take me on an existentialist trail across the city. We made our way around the Latin Quarter and past La Sorbonne where he studied. He snuck me into the Philosophy Department just to show me where Simone and Jean-Paul used to teach. Then, in true existentialist fashion, he directed us along the Seine Banks until we reached Quai Voltaire. I imagined what it must have been like in the thirties, envisioning all the philosophers sitting inside the brasseries along the river, smoking cigarettes and drinking whisky. I fell in love with the Left Bank as I felt myself break away from the trauma of London life and, most importantly, last night.

Our final stop was, unsurprisingly, at the Deux Magots café. He ordered two double Single Malts and we continued to discuss and debate French philosophy until the end of the evening. At some stage, he paused and asked me what I believed life was for and why we exist.

"It exists so we can experience what the world has to offer. The way I see it, our lives are like blank canvasses and all the experiences we have form the individual strokes that eventually create the fabric of existence," I replied.

"And what do you think is at the end? What is the final image?" If we exist to construct a painting of being, then this suggests there is a painting to construct. But I was conflicted about whether such painting, if it existed, was abstract or if there was a beautiful, delicate still life at the end. He chuckled as I expressed this and continued to ask about what the paints represented. If I had the metaphor fully worked out, I might have written a book about it by now. But instead, I continued ponder the meaning of life as I welcomed the burn of whisky at the back of my throat.

When the night was all over, Antoine walked me back to Louise's apartment, but offered nothing more than a parting hug. I sighed of relief as I embraced this platonic exchange.

"Á bien tôt, Katherine!" He called as he turned away and his black trench coat faded into the darkness of the night. I quietly paced up the stairs, awaiting Louise's company. However, when I rang the bell, none other than Ambrose answered the door.

"Hey," I said as I forced a meek smile.

"Hey," he smiled back. "I'm going for a walk, care to join me?"

"No, I'm just looking forward to going to sleep tonight." After all that had happened, I was afraid of what might have happened if I had accompanied him on his midnight stroll through the most romantic city in the world. I momentarily imaged the kisses we might have shared as we perched ourselves on the banks of the Seine. But alas, I remembered that reality was not so sweet, and all that stroll would have entailed were awkward exchanges and intellectual rants about writing.

The thought of Antoine was fresh in my mind, intertwining with the whole mess of my body's actions and decisions. I took my phone out from my pocket and threw it onto the bed. As I turned away to undress, I heard the buzz. It was one am and who else would call at such an hour other than him.

"Hello?" I picked up the phone after the few buzzes and awaited his greeting.

"You're awake? I thought you're always in bed by ten pm."

"I was out, but why are you awake?"

"I just wanted to get something to eat and thought I'd ask for some company." Was he being serious or was this some sort of twisted booty call?

"I'm afraid I'm in Paris right now," as I spoke those regretful words, I felt my chest sink as longed to be around him, despite his pungent odour of tobacco folded with undertones of vodka and marijuana. "But I'll be back tomorrow," I added as I awaited his reaction.

"Hmm, I'll see what Jade has planned and let you know." Then, he promptly ended the call and reignited my bitterness towards him and the other one. I tangoed with my thoughts a little longer until I drifted to sleep. I was trying to process everything that had happened and everything that was yet to come.