Forbidden Love

I - 1985

Job promotion.
Job promotion?
Job promotion.
Why I keep saying "job promotion" you ask?
Well fine, I'll tell you.
My father, Richard Goodson, a successful businessman in the city of Manhattan, had received a promotion for his job. In Paris. Not Paris, Tennessee, Paris, Kentucky, no. Paris, France. The beautiful city of romance and mystery. My own father, making me leave the only place I've known my whole life, just for some job? Outrageous, I tell you! My boyfriend, Gregory and I have been together for over 3 years, and my family expects me to leave him just like that?
Of course, you may be thinking, "you are complaining about moving to France? What is wrong with you!" But listen here. I've spent my whole life here, and for me to just move to a new country and have to start all over- new school, new friends, and worst of all- new language. Alright, alright. I am and have been taking French all my 3 years I've been in high school, but no matter- I mustn't move.
Gregory and I have agreed to have a long distance relationship- it's only a year. I'll be back before the beginning of next August, and we will be together. Our flight to France leaves tomorrow evening, and I mustn't waste time. I continue packing my bags, and I keep packing pictures of Gregory and it makes me want to bawl my eyes out. I decided to write him a letter, just so he can see it and always remember me.

Dear my dear love Gregory,

I love you more and more each day. I know our time apart will bring us even closer. You make me the happiest woman alive, and no man could ever replace you. You mean the absolute world to me, and I cannot wait till we meet again.

XOXO,
Sherrie

Tears fell down my cheek as I wrote. Thinking of a year without him crushed me. I mustn't think of it, I thought.

***

I zipped up my bag. This is it, I thought. A new country. A new me. "Time to leave, my dear!" My father shouted, dropping bags as he went. "Oh no." He chuckled. I picked up the fallen bags and carried them to the car. "Now now honey, you mustn't be upset. It will be great for us." He said, patting me on the back. I faked a smile.
12 hours. 12 hours on a plane. What am I to do I thought. Read a book? No. Read the newspaper? No. I can't do anything, except well sit. Sit there for the long 12 hour plane ride. I notice a flight attendant bringing snacks and drinks across the plane. She comes towards me. She speaks, "Hello young-in, what can I get ya?" She chews her gum disturbingly, loud and obnoxiously. "Uh-" I stutter, "Apple juice please." "Pretzels?" She murmurs. "Yes, please." She throws the pretzels at me and continues to the next passenger. My father laughs and says, "Some people's children, aye?" I chuckle. As I eat, I notice a young boy sitting next to me. He looks out the window, then at me. He smirks. "Your name is?" He winks. I giggle. "Sherrie, Sherrie Goodson. How do you do?" "Fine. You?" He stutters. "Okay, don't like the idea of staying on this plane for 12 hours." He chuckles. "Me neither, madam." "What is your name, sir?" I ask, softly. "Grey Humphrey." He says quietly. "Pleasure to meet you, my dear." I smile. He doesn't respond, and continues to look out the window. I close my eyes and think about my journey in France.
I open my eyes. We had arrived. Did I really sleep that long? My eyes could barley open, as you could imagine how tired I was. I look beside me. The boy was no longer there. I look around, wondering where he went. We hadn't exited the plane yet, so why wasn't he in his seat? My father pulls me and we grab our suitcases. As we grab our bags, I see the boy. He was dashingly handsomer than I had thought. He looked at me, grinning. "How do you do, my lady?" He bowed. "Swell, you?" I curtsied. He laughed. We talked for a while, and I realized that I might like it here. He was my first real friend in France. We talked about the school we were attending. Turns out we were going to the same school. Carte de France Academy, one of the best schools in France itself. We went to the rental car station, and he rented an average red vehicle, small and plump. I said my goodbyes to my father, as I won't see him as much until next year. The car was great. It had a nice radio. At least we didn't have to drive on the opposite side of the road like England, right? Grey drove me to our academy. The academy was very nice, seemed almost too fancy for me. "Here we are." He said. I looked around. "No way." I smiled. "Way." He grabbed my hand and opened the door. We walked into the building, and one of the administrators took us to our rooms. "Sleep tight, babe." He winked, walking into his room. Babe? What the- babe?! I had not recalled being his "babe". I have a lover, and his name was not Grey Humphrey. I have to set him straight. Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow is another day. Oh stop it, Sherrie. Your not Scarlett O'Hara. Although I wish I was.

***
My alarm clock made a loud beeping noise. 5:00am?! Surely I don't have to get up this early. I hear my roommate, Giselle, or Gigi, waking up and climbing out of her bed. She looked over and saw me. Her eyes went big. "Bonjour! Comment allez vou?" I looked at her with wide eyes. She laughed. "Oh my- no French I see. Ah, very well. My name is Gisellè, or Gigi is what I prefer. You?" I looked at her with relief. "Sherrie, Sherrie Goodson." She started changing into her school clothes. A uniform? Surely we don't wear uniforms. I asked her, and she said that her family wanted her to wear them because she looked more classy. I sighed with relief. "Well, you better get dressed my darling. I shall be heading to my first period. Tootles!" I waved. She seems nice I thought to myself. I got dressed and grabbed my bag. As soon as I walked out, I see Grey. "Hey babe!" He exclaimed. I looked at him with an angry look. "What babe?" He put his arm around me. I pushed him off. "Babe? I was nice to you and now we are "babes"?" He laughed. "Babe, it's an expression. You take things to serious, Sher." He pats me on the back and walks away. Embarrassed, I exclaim, "My bad." I walk to my first class. As I walk, I run into a dashing new young man. "I'm- I'm so sorry!" I yell, dropping my books. "No, Madame, I'm sorry." He says. He has a rich, sexy french accent. "Any french?" He says. "Eh, not much." I answer. "Ah." He says, "well we must get to our classes, see you around, miss?" I smile and nod. My day was made. A hot french guy and a fancy new school, what was I so worried about?