In the Bag Part 4

"If =you =like =those, =you =should =try=Stinking Bishop," I pressed on, trying to=make it clear that this was really about=cheese, =not =s.e.x. ="I =saw =some =Stinking=Bishop in Solange's fridge. She wouldn't=mind if you try some. Wait right there."= I ran the four steps to the kitchen. Webb=remained in the living room, plotting G.o.d=knows =what. ="You =know =what's =really=funny =about =these =stinky =cheeses?" =I=yammered on from the kitchen. "Some of=them, like Epoisses, smell so foul you're=not even supposed to carry them with you=on public transportation. Isn't that funny?=Ha ha. HA!"= I =was =rifling =through =Solange's=refrigerator, =looking =for =the =Stinking=Bishop. I grabbed it, along with a big=knife, just in case. I don't even know thisguy! If he tries something weird, I'll justwave the knife ninja-style and pretend Iknow what I'm doing.

"Coco?" Webb asked from the living=room in a strange voice.= "Yeah," I said, closing my eyes and=wishing =I =was =in =a =computer =cubicle,=talking to him online.= "Can I have something to drink?"=

CHAPTER 35"Andrew".

I had to tell her. It was just too ludicrous.=What were the mathematical odds?= I watched her from across the exhibit=s.p.a.ce. She was talking to Solange. They=were laughing.= G.o.d, she's beautiful. The blue lights=only =accentuated =her =angles. =Here =she=looked less like a Botticelli and more like=a Modigliani painted in cobalt hues.= I should tell her about the note. I had to=tell her. Maybe I'd write something clever=on a napkin and put it on her tray.= Enough with the secret notes alreadyc But wouldn't she find the whole thing=amusing, even though she'd called me a=first-cla.s.s a.s.s? Well, I was an a.s.s. Who=but an a.s.s hides a note in a woman's=purse? But now that she knew me, she'd=see how funny the whole thing was.= She was walking toward me with a tray=of =cookies. =She =was =smiling. =I =smiled=back.= "I =think =we're =the =only =two =still=working," =Daisy =said =over =the =techno=music that had ceased to bother me.= "The few, the proud, the brave," I said.= She laughed a deep, honest laugh. G.o.d,what a great laugh.

"I hate for all this to go to waste," she=said, =looking at the tray. "And I've got=dozens more cookies in the back. At home=I always make sure the leftovers go to a=food pantry or a women's shelter."= "That's wonderful," I said. She's notonly beautiful, but thoughtful andsocially conscious. She's perfect.

"Do you think I should box these up and=take them back for the housekeeping staff at=my hotel?" she asked. "I'm sure they all=have families."= "Great idea," I said. "Where are you=staying?"= "The Palace."= "Same here." This was fate. This wasmeant to be. "Let me help you."= "Please, =no," =she =said, =laughing.="You've gone beyond the call of duty.=Solange =tells =me =you've =been =working=around the clock getting this show ready."= "Solange exaggerates," I said. "Besides,=I'm running on fumes now. Give me just a=minute or two. I'll meet you in the back."= "Okay, then," she said. "Thanks." She=smiled again and turned on her heel.= I put the tray of cookies down on the=nearest =flat =surface =and =checked =my=BlackBerry for messages from Webb. I=hadn't seen him all night, but he'd been=terrific about e-mailing me. I had an unread=message sent at 12:36 a.m.= "Fr: [email protected]"To: [email protected]"Subject: g/night"

Cool show! Congrats. You were=busy talking to people, so I didn't=want to bother you. I just got back to=the hotel. Going to bed now. Are u=still planning on sleeping late tmw?= Me too. Let's not wake each other,=OK?= Perfect. The planets were in alignment.=Fate was on my side.= I found =Daisy back in the prep room,=boxing up cookies and gooey b.u.t.ter cake=squares. In my mind I rehea.r.s.ed how I'd=tell =her. Did you by any chance find anote in your purse when you arrived inParis? Strike that. Hey, what would you say if I told you I was the a.s.s who slippedthat pickup note in your purse? No. What=about: How strange. I just got an e-mailfrom a woman who called me a first-cla.s.sa.s.s. What do you make of that?

Why was I trying to sabotage myself like=this? Why tell her at all?= Because I had toc Okay, but how about twenty-five years=from now when we could have a good=laugh about it?= I watched her slide rows of cookies=neatly into boxes.= She =looked up. "You're staring. =Do I=have chocolate on my face or something?=G.o.d, I'm a mess."= "No," I said. "Just the opposite."=

CHAPTER 36"Daisy".

I'm convinced Solange tried to push me=into =Andrew =on =the =front =steps =of =the=Crystal Palace.= "Andrew, you will see that Daisy gets=back to the hotel, yes?" Solange asked.= "I =will," =he =said, =holding =boxes =of=cookies in his hands.= He's adorable. He looks like a littleboy carrying a cafeteria tray.

"Good," Solange said, winking at me.="Because I am staying at Maria Luciana's=tonight.= Maria Luciana. Who knew2 "But Daisy," Solange continued, "I am=taking =you =to =the =airport =tomorrow=morning."= "Absolutely not," I said. "I'll get a cab.= My flight's at seven o'clock. There's no=reason for you to get up that early. Aren't=you =coming =to =Chicago =next =month,=anyway?"= "I am," Solange confirmed. "We will=catch up then?"= "Yes," I said. "Perfect."= Solange hugged me and performed a=yoga bow for Andrew. "I am hopelessly in=debt for all you did to make this show=happen. Really, I am in debt to both of=you."= "I'll remember that," Andrew said.= "Good night," I added as we started=down the steps. I stopped. "Wait! I forgot=to give you your cell phone."= I put my box of sweets on the top step=and began digging through my purse.="Keep =it," =Solange =called =over =her=shoulder. "I have a half-dozen phones. Use= it while you're in Paris. You can give it to= me when I'm in Chicago."= "Really?"= "Really. =Good-bye!" =Solange =blew=kisses as Andrew and I walked down the=crushed gravel path that led to the gates of=Retiro Park.= "Why =are =these =things =always =so=exhausting?" I asked.= "I was just wondering the same thing,"=Andrew said. "I'm getting too old for this."= I wondered how old he might be. Early=fiftysomething, I imagined. He didn't wear=a wedding ring, but that was no guarantee=he was single. Still, it was a good sign,=just like his kind offer to help me serve=cookies. =I =suddenly =regretted =my =early=morning flight. It would've been nice to=compare notes about the show over a lazy=breakfast.= We walked side by side under a dark=canopy of trees toward the park entrance.=From a distance, I could see people on the=street. They were carrying signs.= "Are those protesters?" I asked.="I have no idea," Andrew said, staring=ahead at the a.s.sembled crowd.="Look. The signs are cut to resemble=hands."="Cinco =por =Cinco," =Andrew =said,=reading the words on the sign.="Five for five?" I asked. "What does it=mean?"=A teenage couple was sitting on a park=bench, watching the protesters.="Que pasa con ellos?" Andrew asked.= "Manifestacion," =said =the =boy=emphatically. ="Cinco =por =Cinco. =Son=locos." He made the international sign for=crazy by turning his index finger in circles=next to his head.= "Do you think they've been marching= like that all night?" I asked Andrew. "My=feet hurt just looking at them."= He smiled and switched places with me=so =that =he =was =walking =closest =to =the=protesters =when =we =pa.s.sed =them. =They=were dressed in black. The men, mostly in=their =twenties =and =thirties, =had =longish=beards and wore black hats. The women=were dressed in skirts and shawls. Up=close they looked harmless, almost like the= Mennonites who sold apples at the Oak=Park farmers' market.=Andrew and I walked in silence for a=few moments.= "I wish you didn't have to leave so early=tomorrow," he finally said.= Really? Did he wish this for his sake ormine? Or was he just makingconversation? I thought I detected a note=of sincere disappointment in his voice.= "I have to get back," I answered. "I left=my daughter there, at Solange's apartment.=She was feeling too sick to make the trip."= Oh, G.o.d. That makes me sound like ahorrible parent.

"She's eighteen," I clarified.= "Ah," =he =said. ="I =have =a =son.=Seventeen."= So he was married. Oh, well. d.a.m.n.s.h.i.t.

"I've =barely =seen =him =since =we =got=here," =he =continued, =almost =like =a=confession.= "Is he spending time with . . . your=wife?" I asked. "Or, um, your partner?"= I was never this bold. But I was tired,=and my flight was =leaving in six hours.=And, while I couldn't explain it, I felt a=connection to this guy.= Or am I just tired? I know I need asmall vacation.

"Just me and Webb," Andrew said.= "Oh!" =I =said =with =way =too =much=enthusiasm. I tried again, less peppy this=time. "Just the two of you. That's . . .=nice."= He =was =large =but =gentle: =a =rare=combination =in =nature. =My =mind=inexplicably flew back to an old chef in=culinary =school =who =had =repeatedly=lectured about how the youngest meat is=always the most desirous. It never failed to=elicit bemused looks from his students,=both male and female.= Fifteen minutes later we were back at=the hotel. Andrew watched as I filled the=arms of two confused bellhops with boxes=of =sugary =predigital =treats. =I =tried =to=explain in my best high school Spanish that=I wanted them to give the food away to=their fellow workers.= "Do you think they understood me?" I=asked Andrew when we were standing in=the lobby.= "I'm not sure I understand you. But I'd=like to. Would it be foolish of me to ask if=you'd care for a drink?"= "I'd love one," I said."I looked at my watch: 2:05 a.m."

CHAPTER 37"Webb".

As soon as Coco was in the kitchen, I spit=the vomitous cheese in my hand.= "Do you want wine or soda or water or .=. ." she called.= What I wanted was time. And a place to=dump the cheese guano I'd held in my=mouth for as long as humanly possible.= "Uh, do you have any hot tea?" I asked,=grimacing even as I said the words. Hottea? Surely she was more enlightened than=my idiot guy friends who equated drinking=tea with being gay.= "Oh, sure," she said brightly from the=kitchen. "Solange has all kinds of teas. I=love tea, too!"= Suddenly Coco was back in the living=room, holding a wooden box filled with= tea bags. I hid the cheese in my fist.= "Pick a tea, any tea," she said, smiling.= "Uh, =let's =see. =Chamomile =sounds=good," I said, handing her the first bag I=saw. I had to use my left hand because my=right hand held the half-chewed flotsam.= "That might put you to sleep," she said=tentatively.= Did that mean she wanted to go to bedwith me?

"You're right," I said. "Well then, monami, =I'll =just =have =whatever =you're=having."= "I really like Earl Grey," she said.= Is that a double entendre? Is Earl Greycode for a certain kind of s.e.x? I can'tthink straight with the aftertaste ofpoisonous cheese festering in my mouth.

"Excellent," =I =said, =trying =to =sound=chipper.= While she returned to the kitchen to=make the tea, I scanned the room to find a=place to stash the cheese.= "This'll just take a sec," she hollered.= "Take your time!"= I could've tried to sprint to the bathroom=and dump the vile stuff down the toilet, but=I'd have to pa.s.s the kitchen. Wouldn't I=look suspicious hiding something in my=hand? Plus, unless I banked the cheese off=the side of the toilet, there'd be a huge=plop =accompanied =by =a =hideous =smell.=She'd think I'd just taken a foul dump.= "Do you want sugar or honey in your=tea?" she asked.= "Yes, honey," I said.= Ugh! Think before you talk, idiot4 "These electric kettles really heat up=fast," she was saying from the kitchen.="And I think they're, like, super energy=efficient. I wonder why people don't use=them back home. Do you know?"= "Uh-huh," I said. "I mean, no."= She =was =still =rattling =around =in =the=kitchen. I had to think fast.= I could hide the stinky cheese behind a=stack of books on a shelf. But the smell=would give it-and me-away in no time.= There was only one solution. My duffel=bag was sitting near a futon against the=wall. If I could just stash the cheese in my=bag, I'd deal with it later. I'd dump it=down the toilet on the train or throw it out=the window or something. Anything. I just=had to get rid of it.= I felt myself levitating above the scene,=distancing myself from the horror of it all.=It was almost as if I was watching myself=from above as I moved slowly across the=room. I opened the side pocket of my bag=and slid the handful of cheese deep inside=the tight s.p.a.ce.= I was just withdrawing my hand from the=bag when Coco returned to the living room=carrying two mugs of tea.= "I hope you like-" she began. And then=she stopped. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing=in my bag?"=

CHAPTER 38"Coco".

I could tell Webb was sorry.= "I thought this was my bag," he said,=putting one hand to his forehead. "I am=such a moron."= "Don't worry about it," I said, handing=him his tea. "Seriously, no big deal. Do=you need to get something from my bag?"= "Uh, no," he said, looking a bit dazed. "I=just . . . um. I'll deal with it later."= "Okay." I blew on my tea and then took=a sip.= Silence.= He took a sip.= More silence.= "Do you want to wander around after=this?" he asked.= "Sure," I answered.= Okay, so he didn't want to have tantrics.e.x with me. Fine. Great. Whatever. Thatwas okay. Maybe it was for the best.

"I should take my camera," I said. "I=haven't =been =able =to =take =any =pictures=since we got here."= I set my cup down on the floor and=reached over to grab my bag. I pulled the=top zipper, but gasped in horror at what I=saw.= "What's wrong?" he asked, kneeling to=see what I was staring at.= I reached across and pushed him back=on his a.s.s so he couldn't see what I saw.="Nothing!" =I =said =frantically. ="It's=nothing!"= "Did I wrinkle your clothes?" he asked.="Do I need to buy you a new wardrobe or=something?"= He was being sweet. He was pretending=not to notice. But how could he possiblyhave =missed =the =pink =padded =bra =that=practically jumped out of the bag when I=unzipped it?= "I told you not to look through my stuff,"=I snapped.= "I didn't," he said. "I mean, I had to=look through some of it to see it wasn't=mine. But besides that-"= "Never mind," I said. "I don't want to=talk about it."= And I didn't. But I could've murderedmy mother for telling me to pack my oldest,=most worn-out underwear. Bringing old=underwear and bras to Paris and replacing=them with new stuff had sounded okay at=the time. But that was a week ago! And=now =Webb =had =seen =my =faded =old=flowered granny panties and stretched-out=foam-padded bras, which I hadn't worn for=over =a =year =if =not longer because they=were G.o.d-awful to begin with and also=because the padding had turned all lumpy=and tumory.= I felt =like screaming at the top of my=lungs: If you think I wear foam-paddedbras, I don't! Right now I'm wearing agorgeous midnight blue silk bra andmatching undies from Galeries Lafayettethat would drive you mad with desire, ifonly you knew!

But of course I couldn't say that. No=wonder he didn't want to have tantric s.e.x=with me.= I =grabbed =my =camera =from =the =bag,=trying not to cry. "Let's just go," I said=blankly.= "Seriously, do I need to buy you new=clothes or something?" he asked. "Did I=fold =them =wrong =or, =I =don't =know,=contaminate them somehow?"= I laughed weakly. "Don't worry about it.= Let's just get out of here."=So we =left the apartment and walked=around Solange's neighborhood.="We could walk to Sacre Coeur," I said.= "It's pretty close."="That'd be great," he said.=We walked in silence for about a block.="Coco's a really cool name," he said.= "My mom lived in Paris for a while. She=went to culinary school here and studied=with =a =pastry =chef. =She's =wild =for=chocolate."= "As in cocoa?" he said.= "Yep. =And =she =loves =her =designer=clothes, especially Chanel. It's a brand that=was started by Coco Chanel."= "Plus," he said, "it's just a cool word to= say: Coco."="I think Webb's a cool name."="Now you're just being polite, Blouse= Girl."= "No, =I =really =do. =But =I =don't =know=anything about Jimmy Webb."="I bet you know his songs. He had some= hits in the sev-enties."="Like what?"="His most famous song was ='Wichita= Lineman.' =It =was =a =big =hit =for =Glen=Campbell."="I've never heard of Glen Campbell," I=admitted. "Or that song."= "Sure you have," he said, and he began=singing into an invisible microphone as we=walked down the narrow sidewalk:= =.

I am a lineman for the county and Idrive the main roadSearchin' in the sun for anotheroverload.I hear you singin' in the wire, I canhear you through the whineAnd the Wichita Lineman is still onthe liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinec I =couldn't =stop =laughing. =He =almost=made me forget my stupid pink foam bra.=Almost.= "That," I said between =laughs, "is the=funniest thing I've ever heard in my life.=But I don't understand the lyrics. Is it about=a phone repair guy listening to a woman=talk on the phone? He can hear her singing=through the wire? Who's he listening to? Is=he a stalker?"= "No idea," he said. "The second verse=is even weirder."= "Sing it," I said.= "Sorry," =he =replied. =He =seemed=embarra.s.sed =now. =I =shouldn't =have=laughed.= "But I really want to hear it," I said.="Please?"= "It's not fair to Jimmy Webb," he said.=Then he pointed across the street. "Is that=Internet cafe open? Let's go look it up on=YouTube."= So we bought an hour's worth of time=and found Glen Campbell singing "Wichita=Lineman." We listened closely to the lyrics=of the second verse:= =.

And I need you more than want you,and I want you for all time.And the Wichita Lineman is still onthe line.

"He needs her more than wants her?" I=asked. "Isn't that sort of an insult?"= "I know," Webb said. "Can't you just=picture an old guy in a terrible marriage?=But he doesn't know how to cook or where=to find the clean towels, so he's stuck with=her."= "But he wants her for all time," I said.="That doesn't make sense."= "Unless he =likes needing her?" Webb=suggested.= "Which =makes =him =a =codependent=loser," I said. Why was I making fun ofWebb's namesake's song? "The melody is=really pretty, though."= "Yeah," Webb said. "There's something=haunting about it. Listen to this."= He =downloaded =a =clip =of =R.E.M's= Michael Stipe singing "Wichita Lineman."= "It's pretty but sad," I said when the=song ended. "It's like the guy's in love, but=there's something missing. Why is he still=on the line? I don't get it."= "Me neither," he said. "Jimmy Webb=also wrote 'MacArthur Park.' "= I shrugged. "Never heard of it."= "It's the world's most stupid song. It= begins 'Someone left the cake out in the=rain.' "="Oh, wait!" I shrieked. "I do know that=song. It was a big disco song, right?"= We watched a YouTube video of Donna=Summer singing it and howled. The guy at=the =computer =next =to =us =raised =his=eyebrows.= "We have to be quiet," I said.= "Hold =on," =Webb =whispered. ="You=gotta see this." He downloaded a video of=Sammy =Davis =Jr. =singing ="MacArthur=Park." Then we watched Andy Williams=sing it. And then =Diana Ross. The Four=Tops. Maynard Ferguson. Tony Bennett.= I was weak from laughing so hard. The=guy next to us left, muttering something in=French.= Webb =slid =over =to =the =abandoned=computer and typed, This PC is infected.Please use another.

"What're you doing?" I whispered.= "Just wait," he said. He highlighted the=words and translated them into French.="There. Now no one will bug us."= G.o.d, he's coolc "You're diabolical," I said.= "Possibly," he acknowledged. Then he=bowed to me. "But my Blouse Girl needs=her s.p.a.ce." He smiled. "Hey, this is almost=like a date, y'know?"= "I know!" I said.= He went to the front counter and bought=more computer time. When he returned, he=downloaded =Liza =Minnelli =singing= "MacArthur Park." He took my hands in=his and sang along with the words while=staring into my eyes. " 'I don't think that I=can make it, 'cause it took so long to bake=it. And I'll never have that recipe again.=Agaaaiiinnn.' "= "It's insane," I said. "What makes it so=funny is how seriously they sing it. It's just=nonsense right? I mean, who in the name of=G.o.d would leave a cake out in the rain?"= We =found =more =Jimmy =Webb =songs=online, including "Up Up and Away."= "I've heard this one," I said. "Up, up=and away in my beautiful balloon."= "It's about condoms," Webb said.= "It is?"= "That's what I heard."= "Ick," I said. "Gross."= Why was I sounding like such a prude2 "Show =me =your =school," =he =said,=switching =gears. =So =I =pulled =up =my=school's website and took him on a virtual=tour. He seemed impressed by the history=of the school and the fact that my mom and=grandparents had all gone there. Then I=showed him some of the restaurants where=my mom had worked. I also showed him=our neighborhood a.s.sociation site, which=had a picture of our house on it.= "Okay, enough about me," I said. "Your=turn."= He downloaded his school's website=and clicked on the faculty page. Then he=proceeded to tell me about all his teachers,=including =his =favorite =English =teacher,= Miss Fogerty, and his driver's ed teacher,=who was a perv.="Oh my G.o.d," I said. "Ours is a perv,=too."= "Seriously? You think it's part of the job=description?" Webb asked. "Our guy is so=bad, I refused to take driver's ed. I sent an=e-mail =to =the =princ.i.p.al, =saying =I =was=boycotting =the =cla.s.s =until =they =found =a=teacher =who =didn't =s.e.xually =hara.s.s =the=girls."= "That's so sweet," I said. "So did you=have to go to a private driving school?"="Nah. I just skipped the whole driver's=license thing."="You =skipped =getting =a driver'slicense?"="Yeah, I'd rather walk or take public= transportation," he said.= What a cool guy. Who cares if he'sseen my stupid pink foam-padded bra?

I clicked back to my school's website so=I could show him a picture of our driver's=ed teacher. We howled at how much they=looked alike.= "We should take pictures of ourselves,"=I said.= I held the camera out in front of us and=snapped pictures of Webb and me with his=school's =driver's =ed =teacher =in =the=background. Then I took one of us with my=driver's ed teacher.= "Let's get one with Glen Campbell," he=said.= "Brilliant!" I said.= I'm not even thinking about my stupidpink bra!

He downloaded a video of Glen and=played it while I set up the shot.= "Perfect," =I =said. ="We =should =get =a=picture in front of the Eiffel Tower. I mean,=the real thing."= "Great idea," Webb said. "Do we have=time?"= "What =time =is =it? =I =don't =have =my=iPhone."= "I don't have my phone, either," he said.="How do we find out . . . oh wait. Duh."= He leaned in close to the computer and=looked at the tiny clock in the lower right=corner. "It's almost three o'clock. My train=leaves at ten after seven."= "No problem," I said. "I know how to=get back to Gare de Lyon."= He made a face. "c.r.a.p, I think I'm=leaving from a different station. Gare de=. . . something."= "They're all gare de something," I said.="Gare is French for station."= He slung his arm around my shoulder=and whispered in my ear. "Mademoiselle=Blouse =is zee =brilliant ingenue." =He=paused. "Hey, am I speaking French?"= "No," =I =said, =laughing. ="Where's=monsieur's train schedule?"= He =searched =his =pockets. ="It's =here=somewhere. Oh wait."= "What?"= "I think I put it in your bag. Which is=back at the apartment."= "Which is where your bag is, too," I=said, =laughing. ="We =better =go =back =to=Solange's and figure out how to get to your=train station."= No need to tell him it had taken me an=hour to figure out how to get to Gare de=Lyon by Metro, and still I'd screwed up=the return trip.= "C'mon," he said. "I'll race you."= And before I knew it, there we were,=hand in hand, running back to Solange's=apartment, singing Jimmy Webb songs and=laughing like fools.=

CHAPTER 39"Andrew".

Daisy and I found a small corner table in=the =wood-paneled =hotel =bar. =After =we=ordered drinks, I excused myself to check=on Webb.= "Everything okay?" Daisy asked when I=returned.= "Asleep," I reported. "Under a mountain=of blankets."= Should I confess my frustration withWebb? Would it be a betrayal of my son-or might Daisy have some insight into theminds of teenagers?

"He spends so much time in front of the=d.a.m.n computer," I said, leaping recklessly=into the subject of adolescent children. "I=worry like h.e.l.l he's becoming antisocial.=He has such . . . inertia. Even here, he's=spending hours in front of a computer,=playing games. Or whatever they do."= "My daughter's the same way," she said,=taking a sip of wine. "But you know, I=don't think it's all bad. With Coco-and=I'm sure it's the same with your son-they=have friends all over the world because of=these online groups and forums they join."= "Right," I agreed. "But can you really=call those friendships? I'm not sure I buy=all this connecting online stuff. It was like=that museum show. Digital love depresses=the h.e.l.l out of me."= Wait. Why was I being so negative?The bad bourbon was going straight tomy head. Why did the Spanish import onlythe cheapest American bourbon? Ishould've eaten dinner. I should eat someolives and nuts. They're on the table.That's what they're for.

I grabbed a handful of nuts and then=dropped most of them. =Daisy =laughed. It=was a deep, unself-conscious laugh, and it=made her even more beautiful. She was the=kind of woman who would grow more=beautiful with age. I'd never understand=why women tried to hide those pretty little=laugh lines around their eyes.= "My son doesn't even know how to=make eye contact with people," I said,=sighing. "Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on=him. But we're in Europe. Shouldn't he be=falling in love with some local girl he=meets in a plaza-or at least admiring=someone from afar?"= No need to mention slipping notes inthe bags of attractive women one sees onplanes.

"European romances can be overrated,"=Daisy said, popping an olive in her mouth.= "You =sound =like =you =have =some=experience in that department."= She looked at me and narrowed her=eyes, as if wondering whether to explain=herself.= "My daughter," she finally said, "was=conceived when I was in Paris attending=culinary school."= "Oh," I replied.="Yeah," she said, her eyes widening.="And . . . how'd that work out, if it's not= too personal to ask?"= "It was complicated," she said. "He was=a pastry chef. A master chef. He seemed=happy when I told him I was pregnant. But=he said he could never be monogamous."= "Oh," I said again.="Yeah," she said, smiling. "Oh."="At least he was honest?" I tried.="At least," she said. "Please, this is all= ancient history. And so boring. I really=can't even remember the details. I have a=weird kind of relationship Alzheimer's."= "Relationship Alzheimer's?"= "Just =what =it =sounds =like. =I =forget=everything as soon as it's over. But one=thing I do remember: after he told me, it=made =the =whole =thing =easier =for =me.=Because I knew I didn't want to raise a=child with him or marry him-not that he=asked."= "Sounds like a first-cla.s.s a.s.s," I said.= WHY did I just say that? She's going toconnect the dots. She knows. Or she willknow. Why did I write that stupidG.o.dd.a.m.n note on the plane?! Wait. She'stalking. Listen to her, you first-cla.s.s a.s.s!

"Does he keep in touch with you or your=daughter?" I asked.= "No," she answered. "Oh wait, he did=send her a porcelain doll and a card for=her fifth birthday."= "Hmm," I offered. "Too little too late?"= "You could say that," =Daisy replied.="Especially because she was seven at the=time." She smiled and shook her head at=the memory. "I'm glad I had the sense to=walk away from that. I'm pretty good at=walking away from things-probably too=good, in fact."= "Well, =you've =got =to =know =when =to=leave a bad situation."= "Yes," she agreed, toasting me with her=winegla.s.s. ="Would =you =believe =I =just=walked =away =from =a =job =at =the =best=restaurant =in =Chicago =because =of =steak=sauce?"= "Steak sauce?"= "Terrible =stuff," =she =said. ="Just=thickened sugar water, really. The owner=wanted to have some in the back. You=know, =in =case =someone =wanted steaksauce."= She said it like it was hemlock.= "And you said . . ."= "I said, ='Fine. Have your d.a.m.n steak=sauce. I'm leaving.' " She took a sip. "That=was a week ago today."= "Sorry," I said.= She waved a hand as if batting away a=fly. "Not at all. I was finished there. I left=the restaurant before that over a TV."= "As in, a television?" I asked.= "Yes. =The =owner =of =this =wonderful=restaurant decided to cover one wall in the=bar =with =flat-screen =TVs." =She =looked=around the bar we were sitting in. "Have=you noticed that Europeans aren't as TV-=crazy as Americans?"= "Maybe =because =they =don't =need =the=distraction of televised sporting events," I=said, =deciding =my =particular =obsession=with the St. Louis Cardinals could wait to=be explained later. "Europeans know how=to have conversations."= "Exactly," she said. "What's wrong with=just =talking? =Isn't =that =why =bars =were=invented? So you could talk to somebody=over a drink-as opposed to sitting at=home alone getting sloshed?"= I loved how frank she was. I loved her=smile. =Her =face. =All =those =emotions=swirling =between =her =eyes =and =mouth.=There was a tension that made me want to=hear =more, =even =though =I =didn't =fully=understand her. Her face asked questions=and made me care. Here I'd been thinking=she was a Modigliani, but I was wrong.=She was a Jimmy Webb song.= "Tell me about your daughter," I said.="Her name's Coco-as in Chanel?"= "Very good," Daisy said, smiling. "I'm=a big admirer of hers."= "I don't know very much about her," I=said.= "Let's see," Daisy began. "She learned=how to sew in an orphanage. She was a=survivor from the very beginning. She had=a =million =obstacles, =but =ultimately =she=succeeded because she worked like a dog,=and because she had the revolutionary idea=that women should dress for themselves=and not for men. She never married, which=was unusual back then. That, combined=with everything else, led her to be seen as=a new kind of woman-one who could be=independent, successful, and stylish."= "Sounds familiar," I said, raising a gla.s.s=to my drinking companion.= Even in the dim =light I could see her=face redden. A woman who blushes. What=would Coco Chanel say?= "I guess what I =like most about her,"=Daisy =continued, ="was =that =she =made=simplicity beautiful. It sounds =like a no-=brainer, but it was huge back then. It's still=huge now. How many times have you been=to a supposedly good restaurant where you=can't =even =taste =the =food =because =it's=covered in . . . innovation?"= I couldn't help smiling.= "You know what I mean," she insisted.="Carrot =soup =should =taste =like =carrots.=Roast chicken should taste like chicken. A=lemon tart should taste =like =lemons. All=these =so-called =post-modern =chefs =with=their delusions of creativity. It makes me=cranky."= I =felt =surprisingly =relaxed =with =this=woman, =but =there =was =something =else.=Something =pleasantly =unsettling. Pa.s.sion.It's what the museum show had lacked.= "I have a feeling you and Ms. Chanel=would've gotten along famously," I said.= "You're kind," she said. "But a strong,=self-reliant =character =is =important. =It's=what I want my daughter to have. But you=know what they say: careful what you wish=for."= "What do you mean?"= "Oh, G.o.d," she said, shaking her head.= "My daughter is completely independent.=Eighteen years old and ready to run the=world. She has no use for me anymore."= "That's wonderful," I said. "I'm trying=to do the same thing with my son. I want=him to live without worrying what I think=or what anyone thinks. I want him to have=high standards for himself."= "Yes," she agreed. "That's important.=But Coco's so hard on herself. I don't=know what she'll do if she ever gets a B.=She goes into hysterics if she gets an A=minus. That's not good. Life's not like=that."= "No, it's not."= "I try to get her to come with me to Paris=every =year," =she =said. ="But =she =never=wants to miss school. She hasn't been to=Paris with me since she was eight-by herchoice, not mine. Can you imagine?"= "No. =Webb's =always =looking =for =an=excuse to miss school."= "The only reason she came with me on=this trip was because I was able to plan it=around her spring break. She wants to be=perfect. It's a recipe for disaster."= "Or at least unhappiness."= "Exactly," she said. "And you know,=that's another reason I named her Coco.=Because =to =me, =chocolate =is =about=indulging in things that give you pleasure.=And what's the point of life if you can't=find joy?"= On that note, we ordered another round=of drinks.= "How'd you end up with a boy named=Webb?" she asked. "Is there a story behind=it?"= "There is, but it's a long one."=She looked at her watch: "I have almost=four hours until my flight leaves."=

CHAPTER 40"Daisy".

Are you sure you want to hear this?"=Andrew asked, smiling wearily.= I =would've =preferred =a =long,=inconsequential =story =so =I =could =stop=listening and simply study his face. But this=didn't sound like one of those stories.= "Of course I want to hear it," I said.="Dish."= He smiled. What a sweet smile. What agood man.

"Okay," he said, turning more serious.="I'm the father of my sister's child."= What the-2 "Not =the =biological =father," =he =said=quickly. "I adopted Webb when he was=born. From my sister, Laura."= "She didn't want a baby?" I asked.= He =took =a =thoughtful =sip =before=answering. "She belonged to a cult. It's a=complicated story, but no, she didn't want=a baby. Or the cult leader didn't want a=baby. He was the father."= "Oh, jeez," I said. "What a jerk. But=how wonderful that you were willing to=adopt."= "No white horse here," he said. "The=truth is, I probably didn't give it enough=thought. I was thirty-six years old at the=time."= I =stopped =listening =and =started=calculating. Thirty-six plus seventeenequals . . . What does it equal? I need apen and paper. Think! 36 + 17 = 43. Isthat right? No, idiot. Carry the one. Fifty-three. He's fifty-three. How old am I?Forty-four? No, forty-five. Nine-yeardifference? No, eight! G.o.d, am I drunk orjust stupid? Shut up and listen4 "Uh-huh," I said, checking back into the=conversation.= "Laura knew the baby was going to be a=boy. And I figured, I could do that. I knew=boy stuff. And there was n.o.body else. I'm=her only sibling. So I took him home from=the hospital."= "Go on," I said.= "I guess that's why I worry about Webb=becoming dependent on anyone or anything=-like =the =d.a.m.n =computer. =Laura =is=probably the most naturally gifted abstract=painter I've ever known. But she somehow=managed to rob a bank and kill two tellers=for her so-called boyfriend, the cult leader.=He got three years. She got twenty-five."= "Jesus Christ," I said.= "I =know. =So =that's =why =I'm =always=searching in my son for another overload."= "I'm . . . sorry." I started to reach across=the table and put my hand on his. But he'd=already clasped his hands behind his head=and was stretching backward.= "Please," he said. "I'm the one who=should apologize. I don't tell many people.=It's a story that can clear a room."= "I'm a.s.suming your son knows about all=this?"= "Not every detail, but he knows." He=paused. "Shall we change the subject?"= "Of course," I said. I felt an irrational=fondness for this man wash over me. "But=can you tell me about the name 'Webb'? I=like it."= His face brightened. "I named him after=my favorite songwriter, Jimmy Webb."= I cringed. "I should know him, right?"= "You probably do, but you don't know=you know him," he said generously. "He's=sort =of =like =your =friend, =Coco =Chanel.=Jimmy Webb wasn't an orphan, but he=came from humble roots in Oklahoma. His=dad was a Baptist minister who didn't=think much of his son's plans to be a=songwriter. The father allowed only white=gospel music and country music in their=home. But when it was clear that making=music was what Jimmy really wanted to=do, his father gave him forty bucks and=said, 'It's not much, but it's all I have.' He=also told his son that writing songs would=break his heart."= "Whose =heart-the =father's =or =the=son's?" I asked.= "The son's," he said. "Jimmy's heart."= "Oh, that's so sad. But also great."= "I agree. Because that's what art is;=that's what it does. It breaks your heart. It=moves you. If it doesn't do that, forget it.=It's not worth it."= He had an artist's heart, but none of the=weird artist hang-ups, like being broke. He=was kind. He was generous. He had lovely=manners. =His =face =was =warm =in =the=candlelight. I couldn't help hoping that my=face looked softer and less haggard in the=bar =light =than =it =had =in =that =hideous=workroom at the museum.= "What =about =the =exhibit =tonight?" =I=asked. "Did it move you?"= "Not especially," he said. "But I'm not=the target demographic for shows like that.=I prefer paintings."= We talked about art museums we loved.=He knew them all but was wonderfully=unsn.o.bbish about it. Such a nice change=from =the =poseurs =who =visited =the =Art=Inst.i.tute =once =a =year =and =considered=themselves arty.= "Of course, the museums in Europe are=spectacular," =he =was =saying. ="And =you=have the Art Inst.i.tute in Chicago, which is=wonderful. But the museums I find myself=enjoying most are in Kansas City, Tulsa,=Toledo, Ohio."= "Tell that =to =a =New =Yorker," =I=mumbled.= "They wouldn't believe me," he said.="It's like admitting Glen Campbell is your=favorite singer."= "Is he?"= "Yes." He laughed. "And now you know=everything about me. But really, how can=you beat his stuff: 'Wichita Lineman,' 'By=the Time I Get to Phoenix,' 'Gentle on My= Mind'?"= "Now that last one I remember," I said.="I used to think it sounded so romantic,=letting a guy leave his sleeping bag rolled=up and stashed behind your couch. Now I=think, =for =G.o.d's =sake, =buddy. =Get =it=together and get a bed. Get a house. Stop=trashing my place."= He =laughed, =but =sadly. Oh G.o.d, I've offended himc "That's exactly what I worry about with=my son," he said. "That he'll be a guy who=leaves his sleeping bag rolled up behind=some poor girl's couch."= "But at a certain age, that does sound=romantic," I said. "To women as much as=men."= "Maybe it's an a.n.a.log thing," he said.= I took a chance. "I think romance is=harder in the digital or postdigital age or=whatever we're supposed to call it. Loveis harder."= "You think so?" he asked.="I do. Don't you see it with your son?"= "My son doesn't date," he said. "Not at=all."= "Neither does my daughter. She says=dating is for losers. They don't get it.=There's no such thing as dinner and a=movie anymore."= "They just roam in packs," he added.= "They don't hold hands. Or if they do,=it's done with irony and eyeball rolling."= He smiled. "Holding hands. Wouldn't=that =be =digital-you =know, =literally=touching digits?"= "You're right," I said. "I hadn't thought=of it like that. So love in the postdigital age=is an age where n.o.body touches? Do you=know when I was in college, I dated a guy=for a year or so."= "Are you telling me you held this man's=hand?" he asked, grinning.= "I did. And during breaks from school,=when we couldn't hold hands, we wrote=letters-because long-distance calls cost=money back then."= He =was =smiling. ="I =remember =those=days."= "And I'll tell you something else," I=continued, encouraged by his eyes.= "Tell me," he said.= "We also had this thing where we'd call=each other and let the phone ring once, and=then hang up. So it wouldn't cost anything.=But also because-"= "It was your thing," he said.= "Yes. It was romantic."= Wait, was it romantic? It was so longago. I could barely remember. Itshould've been romantic. Was it?

"I get that," he said. "And I like that the=guy got credit every time the phone rang=once at your house. What if it was a wrong=number, and the person on the other end=hung =up =after =the =first =ring =when =they=realized they'd misdialed?"= "I'm not even listening to you," I said,=laughing and covering my ears. "I won't let=you sully a lovely memory."= His voice softened. "I wouldn't dream=of doing that."= We were alone. The bar had closed a=half hour earlier. Even the bartender was=gone.= "You have a flight to catch," he said,="and here I am keeping you up."= "Oh, it's no problem, really," I said, a=little too eagerly.= Don't sound so d.a.m.n pathetic. He'llthink I want him to spend the night in myroom.

"Want =to =walk =around =the=neighborhood?" he asked.= "That would be nice."= My body was exhausted from the long=afternoon of baking. And now the wine had=made me light-headed. But the night air felt=wonderful and warm.= We saw a group of rough-looking boys=selling =what =looked =like =drug=paraphernalia from a card table across the=street. Andrew again changed places with=me so he was walking next to the street.= "Back =to =gooey =b.u.t.ter =cake =for =a=moment," he said.= I laughed.= "No, really," he said. "I don't think you=realize what an inspired choice that was.= Maybe the people there tonight didn't get=it, but to me, gooey b.u.t.ter cake represents=a.n.a.log culture right as it started turning the=corner toward digital."= "And why is that?" I asked.= "I don't know. I'm not always good at=explaining these things. But I feel them.=You'd have to ask Jimmy Webb to explain=cakes. He wrote a song about a cake called='MacArthur Park.' "= "Donna Summer," I said. "Loved her."= "Yes." He sighed. "She did a disco=cover of it. But it was originally a Richard=Harris song because n.o.body else would=record it. Do you remember it? 'Someone= left the cake out in the rain . . .' There's a=poem by W. H. Auden with the line, 'My=face looks like a wedding cake left out in=the rain.' "= I stopped walking and turned toward=him. "That's heartbreaking."= "I agree," he said. "Don't you know=exactly what he's talking about?"= Yes. Because I've looked like thatbefore. More than once, in fact.

We walked in silence for a block.= "Does =Webb =visit =his =mother =in=prison?" I asked.= "No, but I go. Laura doesn't want Webb=to see her like that."= "And when she gets out?"= "Webb will be a grown man. They'll=have to forge their own relationship."= "You're so . . . matter-of-fact about all=this," I observed.= "I hope I don't seem cold. I make a=living putting things in places. It's the only=thing I know how to do. I, um, I went to=therapy once."= "Oh, really?"= Did that sound accusatory? I didn'tmean it to. I've been seeing Nancy on aweekly basis for years, ever since my firstanxiety attack, which came cleverlydisguised as a heart attack.

"I mean, literally, just one time," he=explained. "It wasn't a good fit for me=because I'm not very good at talking to=strangers."= "You're doing fine tonight," I said.= "That says more about you than me. The=therapist =told =me =I =was =thinking =my=feelings rather than feeling them. And that I=needed =to =work =more =on =feeling =my=feelings. =But =when =you're =raising =a=teenager, who has time to feel? I think you=have to be a doer, not a feeler. Know what=I mean?"= "Yep. In fact, sometimes I find myself=thinking, 'I'll decide how I feel about that=next week.' You have to put it on the=calendar. =And =then =my =daughter =keeps=telling me I should date. Date? When?"= Okay, Coco has never said that. Whywas I making this up? Because it'sgetting late, and I have to know where Istand with this guy.

"So you don't date much?" he asked.= "Nope," I said.= I am not counting all the terrible datesI've had. Those don't even qualify asdates. And I'm not counting Chuck That.Or the sous-chef I saw a few times when Iwas on the rebound from Chuck That. Orany of those disastrous Match.com lunchdates. Yes, there were dozens of them, oneworse than the next. But I didn't enjoyany of them-and I paid for my own d.a.m.nmeal every time. Those were not dates.They don't count!

"Me, neither," he said. "Have you tried=online dating?"= "No!" I protested quickly. "I mean, not=with any real . . . success. All the guys-=er, the couple of guys I met online, were=weirdos or married or religious nuts or=survivalists still mad the Y2K thing didn't=pan out. Or guys who lived at home with=their mothers or . . . How 'bout you?"= "I tried the one called e-Symphony or e-= Melody. Something like that."="You did eHarmony?" I asked.="Yeah, that's it."= "And?F "It was a lot of work," he said. "It=seemed too much like a job, answering all=those questions. So then I tried Craigslist."= "You did not!" I said. "Isn't that where=-"= "Yeah. I got =lots of interesting photos=and =offers =for =sensual =ma.s.sages." =He=laughed. "I had no idea. But I did find a=great old Eames chair on Craigslist. Some=nice light fixtures, too. So it wasn't a=complete waste of time. To tell you the=truth, the only woman I see on a regular=basis is my sister, Laura. She can have=visitors on weekends, so I see her then."= He is so nicec "Is the . . . place nearby?" I asked.= "It's not bad. About two hours, each=way. And then once you get to the prison,=you have to stand in line for an hour. And=then Laura and I visit for a few hours. It=ends up being a whole day. I try to make it=there =every =weekend, =but =sometimes =I=can't."= I wonder if they allow visitors to bringin food. I could find a darling picnicbasket and fill it with fabulous treats andsend it with Andrew. I could win her over.She'd like me before she even met me.Wait, listen! He's still talking.

"Webb's on a traveling soccer team.=They have games most Sat.u.r.days. The only=other woman I see is my lawyer, Tamra. I=see her quite a bit."= Of course he was seeing somebodyback home. Of course. But Tamra?Tamra, my a.s.s. She was Tammy in highschool. But a lawyer? s.h.i.t.

"Tamra and I go to lunch every couple=of weeks. I like her a lot. And she looks=like =Glen =Campbell. =Or =maybe =Glen=Campbell's sister. Tamra's pushing eighty=these days. I guess that's my type. Is there a=support group for men who have a thing for=Glen Campbell?"= It was nothing! Thank you, G.o.d! I lovelawyers! What would we do withoutlawyers?

"I don't know about a support group for=you," I said. "But my daughter plans to=study =psychology, =so =I'm =pretty =much=doomed. You might as well commit me=right now."= He smiled. "I have no idea what my son=will study. He recently told me he wants to=be a caveman."= "A what?"= "Don't ask," he said. "I think it means he=doesn't want to work. He's very laid-back.=I try to see that as a good thing."= "It is a good thing."= "Right. But when he tells me there's a=college major called Leisure Studies, can=you understand why I get a little nervous?"= I couldn't help laughing. He was nice.=And funny. And honest.= "My daughter is so rigid and tense." I=said. Wait. Was I describing Coco or me?"It'd be interesting to see how our kids got=along."= "I'd love it," he said.= "Really?"= "Of course. I'd love my son to meet a=young woman who was excited about her=future."= We walked and talked about everything=-until we saw a man unloading bread at a=cafe.= I looked at my watch. It was ten minutes=after five.= "We have to get back to the hotel," I=said.= Andrew hailed a cab. Ten minutes later=when we pulled up to the hotel, we found=the bellhops eating chocolate-chip cookies.= "Can I help you with your bags?" he=asked.= "No, no," I said. "I'm fine. I really have=to run, though."= And =with =that =I =dashed =toward =the=elevator, leaving Andrew in the lobby.= I cursed myself all the way up to the=sixth floor and continued cursing myself as=I =threw =my =makeup =bag =and =unworn=pajamas in my suitcase. Why hadn't I given=him a business card? Why couldn't I blow=off the flight and take a later one?= Because I had to get back to Coco, that's=why. So why didn't I tell him that, so he'd=know that I was interested?= The self-critical rant played through my=head as I raced back to the elevator and=rode =it =to =the =lobby, =where =I =found=Andrew, waiting for me. He carried my=bag to the front entrance and hailed a cab.= "Can I call you?" he asked as I climbed=in the cab.= "Of course," I said. "My number in=Chicago is 312-"= "No, I mean, I want to call you in Paris.=Is there a number where I can reach you?"= I dug Solange's cell phone out of my=purse.= "Ugh, I don't even know the number on=this thing," I said. "Why don't you just call=me at Solange's apartment?"= I wrote the phone number on the back of=my shopping =list. "Here," I said. "Coco=and I will be in Paris until Sat.u.r.day."=

CHAPTER 41"Webb".

I could smell the foul cheese as soon as=we walked in the apartment. I didn't have=time to mess around. I grabbed her bag and=started for the bathroom.= "Wait!" Coco said. "That's not your=bag."= "I know," I answered, rushing toward=the bathroom. "But I left something in here=that I need to . . . do something with."= "Webb! That's not your bag. It's mine.=Just tell me what you want, and I'll give it=to you." She was trying to pull the bag=from my hand.= "Hey, hey, hey," I replied, pretending to=joke around. "I'm serious. I need to get my=-"= "I'm =serious," =she =said, =grabbing =a=handle of the bag. "This is my bag. Give it=to me, and I'll give you your bag."= Oh, G.o.d. I really hated to do it, but there=was no alternative. With one quick motion,=I pulled the bag away from her. I was just=two steps from the safety of the bathroom.= "What =the =h.e.l.l =do =you =think =you're=doing?" Coco yelled. Now she was trying=to pin me against the wall.= "I put something in here I need," I said.="I'll just be a second."= She =was =suddenly =in =my =face =and=swatting at the bag. "No! You do not have=my =permission =to =take =my =bag =in =the=bathroom! No means no!"= "Coco," I said, holding the bag behind=my back. "If you really want to know, it's=something embarra.s.sing that I don't want=you to see."= "Like what?" She was still trying to=grab the bag from me. Then she stopped.=Her arms dropped. She smiled. "Is it a . . .=condom?"= "A what?"= I didn't know how to play this. Should Ilaugh? Should I say that it was acondom? That wasn't such a bad idea. I=turned and threw the bag in the bathroom=and then locked myself in with it.= "Up, up and away, si'l vous plait," I=warbled in a fake French accent from the=other side of the door.= Quickly, I fished the stinky cheese out of=the bag's side pocket and flung it in the=toilet with a humiliating PLONK. I flushed=and rezipped the bag.= When =I =emerged =from =the =bathroom,=Coco was sitting sideways on a chair in=the living room. Her arms were crossed.=Her legs were dangling over one arm of=the chair. She looked cute as h.e.l.l. She also=looked mad as h.e.l.l.= "Sorry about that," I said, setting the bag=down gently at her feet.= Silence.= "Coco," I tried again. "You'd laugh if=you knew what this was all about. I should=just tell you."= "Actually, I don't even want to know. I=just want to know what train station you're=leaving from so we can figure out how to=get there."= =We rode the Metro in silence. When we=got to the station, we ran to the platform.=The doors to my train were closed.= "Pound on the doors," Coco said. "See=if they'll open them for you."= I =did. =As =if =by =miracle, =the =doors=opened.= "Go!" she said. "Good-bye."= "Bye," I said. "This was . . . fun, right?"= "Yeah, right," she said.= I jumped up the trains steps with one=leap and threw my bag inside the train only=to realize I had no euros =left. None. I'd=spent everything buying time at the Internet=place. The train door had closed behind=me.= I hit the door panel with the palm of my=hand and the door reopened. Coco was=still standing on the platform.= "You, uh, don't have any euros I could=borrow, do you?"= "What?" she asked.= The =sound =in =the =station-=announcements, bells, trains arriving-was=deafening.= "It's just that . . . I don't have any money=left for water or food," I said. "And it's a=long ride back to Madrid."= "Oh," =she =said, =digging =in =her =back=pockets. =She =pulled =out =several =bills.= "Here. Take these."="Thanks!" I said. "I'll pay you back.=Sometime."="Don't worry about it," she said. "Oh! I= forgot to give you your shirt back."=The door was closing.="Keep it!" I said.=But I don't think she heard me.=

CHAPTER 42"Coco".

It wasn't until the train pulled away that I=realized I should've offered to split the=train fare with Webb. Between that and=keeping his shirt, he must've thought I was=a selfish b.i.t.c.h.= s.h.i.tc The problem was, once I realized he'd=seen my hideous undies (which I should've=thrown away before we left Chicago) and=foam-padded =pink =bra =(which =I =never=should've =bought =in =the first place, but=once I did, I should've tossed it when I=realized how stupid it was, or at least=when the foam started buckling), I was=sunk. And then when he insisted on taking=another look at them? In the bathroom, no=less? I couldn't get my mojo back.= Mom and her stupid pack-your-worst-=underwear =approach =to =life. Brilliant,Mom.

On the other hand, maybe he was just=being =honest. =Maybe =he =really was just=getting rid of the condoms. Maybe he was=nervous about his dad finding them, so he=wanted to ditch them before he left.= But if so, why did he think it was so=d.a.m.n funny? Was having tantric s.e.x with=me such a hilarious impossibility? Was it=really such a big freakin' joke?= Even if he hadn't seen my underwear=and bras, he still wouldn't have wanted to=have s.e.x with me. Why had I seemed like=such a brownnose and a prude? Why did I=say ick when he mentioned condoms? And=why did I laugh at his singing? Why did I=make fun of his namesake, Jimmy Webb?=I'd obviously hurt his feelings.= I rode the Metro back to the apartment=and =crawled =onto =the =futon =with =my=camera. I clicked through all the pictures=I'd =taken =at =the =Internet =cafe. =He =was=adorable in every shot with his wide-open=smile =and =rumpled =hair. =I, =meanwhile,=looked =like =a =girl =who =wears =granny=panties and padded bras-which I don't.=Not anymore, anyway.= I crawled under the covers and hoped to=die.= Then =I =remembered =the =condoms =I'd=stashed in Solange's medicine cabinet. I=got up and hid them in the bottom of my=bag. I'd stick them in someone's locker at=school when I got home.=

CHAPTER 43"Andrew".

When =I =finally =climbed =into =bed, =the=digital alarm clock between Webb's bed=and mine read 6:52. I needed sleep, but all=I could think about was when I should call=Daisy.= I knew from spending just those few=hours with her that she was the kind of=woman who would find the story of my=note-our note, really-funny if I told it in=the right way. Which I could. And I would.= Surely she didn't think I was a first-=cla.s.s a.s.s, or she wouldn't have spent hours=with me when we were both exhausted.= I needed to tell her about it for my sake,=as much as hers. Secrets have no place=between two people who are trying to=build a relationship. And that's what I=wanted to do. If this wasn't kismet, what=was?= I looked at the clock again: 6:55. This=was what Einstein meant when he said=time was relative.= I couldn't call her before eight o'clock=in the evening. But at that hour, she and her=daughter might be out to dinner. So I had to=call either earlier or later.= I decided I'd call in the afternoon to=make sure she got back safely. Or was that=too =cloying? =Women =hated =being=patronized, and who could blame them?= On the other hand, she'd be tired when=she arrived in Paris. She might want to nap=in the afternoon. So I should call before the=nap. Or after the nap?= I looked at the clock again. 6:57.= I got up, pulled on some clothes, and=went downstairs in search of coffee.=

CHAPTER 44"Daisy".

There I was, racing by cab to catch a=flight back to Paris after having been up all=night with a handsome, kind, intelligent=man. It felt like something on the Lifetime=channel.= I pulled out a compact and checked my=face, expecting to see a wrinkled old hag.= Instead, I found a woman who looked=like a prettier, younger version of myself. I=couldn't help grinning at the image in the=mirror.= As the cab pulled into the departing=flights area, I applied lipstick and pulled=my hair up into a topknot-my cleaning=lady hairstyle, as Coco called it.= "Merci, er, gracias," I said to the driver,=handing him forty euros.= "De nada, guapa," he said as he carried=my bag to the curb. Then he winked at me.= "Uh, right," I said.= I made my way through the security=checkpoint =and =found =my =gate. =The=boarding process had already begun, so I=knew I wouldn't have time to get coffee. I=gazed =with =envy =at =a =man =holding =a=steaming cup of black coffee. He looked=American or British. He saw me staring at=his coffee.= "That's what I need," I said, smiling.= "Here," he replied. "Take it. I haven't=touched it yet."= "Oh, =G.o.d, =no," =I =said, =laughing. ="I=wouldn't dream of it."= "Are you sure?"= "Absolutely. I'll get some on the plane."= He smiled and, unless I was crazy, he=subtly checked me out.= What was going on? First thecabdriver and now this? Was I giving offthe I've-been-up-all-night-with-a-manvibe? Maybe so. But I hadn't slept withhim, for heaven's sake. I couldn't have as.e.x afterglow. So why all the attention?

Minutes =after =takeoff, =the =flight=attendants =began =distributing =lukewarm=coffee and rubbery croissants. Had I not=been famished and caffeine deprived, I=would've pa.s.sed on both. But instead, I ate=and drank with pleasure until we hit a=b.u.mpy spot and I spilled coffee on my=slacks.= "s.h.i.t," I murmured.=A man across the aisle smiled at me and=handed me his napkin.= Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Mennever looked at me anymore. Well, withthe possible exception of creepy men whostuck notes in my purse. Maybe I shouldstay up all night more oftenc I glanced through the in-flight magazine=distractedly, =but =I =couldn't =muster =the=energy to focus. So I closed my eyes and=thought about Andrew.= He was nice, wasn't he? It wasn't just=my imagination. He was kind and smart=and arty. And he was honest. And, my G.o.d,=the story about his sister. How generous of=him to adopt her baby.= I =drifted =off, =dreamily, =thinking =of=Andrew and his son.= When we landed, I went straight to the=airport exit and found the waiting line of=cabs.= "Montmartre," I said, climbing in the=first available taxi.= A half hour later I was walking in the=door of Solange's apartment. =Poor Coco=was coc.o.o.ned in her futon, right where I'd=left her. Nestled in a blanket, she looked=like a tragic ballerina in Swan Lake.

"Sweet baby girl," I said, kissing her=awake. "Are you feeling better?"= "No," she said, sniffling. "A million=times worse."= I put my hand to her forehead. She felt=cool to the touch. I kissed her again. Her=cheeks tasted salty.= "Can I make you some toast?" I asked.="Or hot tea?"= "No." She sighed, covering her eyes. "I=need to take a shower."= She crawled out from under her covers.=She =was =wearing =her =favorite =flannel=pajamas.= "Your jammies," I said. "Did your bag=finally arrive?"= "Huh?" =Coco =said, =looking =down =at=herself. "Oh, yeah. Someone, uh, delivered=it here yesterday."= "That's great, honey," I said. "I bet it=was the stress of not having your things that=made you feel sick."= Coco turned and gave me a glacial stare.="No, that's not what it was. So can we just=drop it?"= Oh, G.o.d. Here we go againc "And it probably means I won't even get=the =freakin' =five =hundred dollars," =she=said, schlepping toward the bathroom.= She was slamming the bathroom door=behind her just as the phone rang.= "I'm =sure =we =can =still =get =you =that=money," I yelled toward her. And then,=without thinking clearly, I picked up the=ringing phone.= "h.e.l.lo?" I said.= "Hi, it's me, Andrew. Is it okay for me=to call and make sure you got back okay?"=

CHAPTER 45"Webb".

Where =have =you been?" =Dad =boomed=when I finally got back to the hotel. It was=almost eight thirty that night.= "I had to, uh, go get my bag," I said.= He looked at the black duffel I was=carrying. "Oh. Is that yours?"= "Yeah," I confirmed, sitting on the bed.="Finally, huh?"= I was hungry, thirsty, tired, and stiff=from the long train ride. Plus, a low-grade=depression was setting in-a result of my=lackl.u.s.ter performance with Coco. Dad, on=the other hand, seemed weirdly energetic. I=hoped it wasn't fueled by his anger at me.= "So?" Dad said. "What'd you think?"= "About . . . ?"= "The show. Last night."= "Oh, right," I said. "Right, right, right. It=was . . . cool. It looked . . . great."= "I'm =glad =you =liked =it," =Dad =said,=smiling. He sure seemed to be in a good=mood. "I thought all that digital stuff would=appeal to you."= "Uh-huh," I said. I felt like a complete=jerk for missing Dad's big night. "I'd like=to see it again. Tomorrow maybe?"= "Let's do that," he said. "We should go=to the Prado, too. I know we went there=last time we were here, but it's worth=another visit."= "Okay."= "And I haven't had my fill of tapas yet,"=Dad continued. "Have you?"= "No, I'm starving."= "Then =let's go get some dinner," =Dad=said, =mussing =up =my =hair. ="Good =job=getting your bag, Webb. I was afraid that=thing was a goner."= "Yeah," I said. "Me, too."= We walked to a narrow street called=Cava Baja and ate appetizers off little=plates. =Dad was digging the squid and=octopus. =My =favorite =was =tortilla=Espanola, which isn't a tortilla at all, but=more like a cold potato omelet, which=sounds worse than squid, but it's really=good. Dad ordered beers for both of us.= "I wish we had the same approach to=drinking that Europeans have," Dad said.="Kids here grow up drinking with their=families. Not a lot. Just a little. So then=when =they =go =off =to =college, =drinking=doesn't occupy such a huge role, =like it=does back home."= "Uh-huh," I said, trying to force the beer=down. =It =tasted =like =dirty =socks =and=reminded me of stinky cheese.= "The stories you hear of binge drinking=on =college =campuses," =Dad =continued,=shaking his head. "And alcohol poisoning.= Moderation might sound boring, Webb, but=it can save your life."= "Yeah," I said, remembering with horror=the sound of the cheese dropping into the=toilet. No wonder Coco =looked suicidal=when I emerged from the bathroom. Or did=she =look =homicidal? =I =could =tell =she=wanted to kill somebody. Most likely me.= When we got back to the hotel, Dad put=his =arm =around =my =shoulder. ="Let =me=guess," he said. "You want to duck into the=business center one last time tonight."= "That's okay," I said.= "No, no," Dad said, all jokey and nice.="Go ahead. I've got to make a phone call,=anyway. Somewhat personal. I'll see you=upstairs."= I retreated to the business center and=logged on. I had no new messages, so I=started writing one.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: =Strangers =on =a =Train=Platform-After-Action Report= Hey there, Blouse Girl. Just wanted=to say thanks for letting me visit.=I hope I didn't do irreparable harm=to your psyche with my singing.= One complaint: You didn't tell me=how pretty you are. That was a nice=surprise. Thanks for spotting me 20=euros for the trip home. I'll pay you=back with interest when we= I stopped. When we what? Saw each=other again? She wouldn't want to see me=again. When we got back home? She might=not want to give me her home address. I=remembered the way she looked at me=when she was trying to tear her bag out of= my arms. When we . . .=Nothing.=I deleted the message without sending it= and went upstairs to bed.=

CHAPTER 46"Coco".

It was Mom's idea to spend the afternoon=at the Louvre. I was glad to go because at=least if we were looking at paintings, we=wouldn't have to talk to each other. I was=in one of those moods where everything= Mom said seemed like a criticism of me,=which made me respond in some bratty-=a.s.sed =way, =and =so =on =and =so =on, =ad=nauseam.= Let's =face =it. =The =let's-all-pack-our-=worst-underwear-so-the-only-guy-I've-=ever-been-even-mildly-interested-in-will-=see-my-c.r.a.ppy-undies thing was her idea.=And maybe she didn't mean to ruin my life.=But that wasn't the point. She did ruin it,=whether she meant to or not. And to be=perfectly honest, I wasn't sure she didn'twant to ruin my =life and keep me from=having a boyfriend. Just because she hated=men on account of one guy who didn't=practice safe s.e.x and got her preggers in=Paris didn't mean that I never wanted to=have s.e.x. If I thought about it too much, I=would completely lash out at her, and that=wouldn't be good for either of us.= So I was fine with her idea of going to=the Louvre. I thought maybe looking at art=might help me get my mind off the disaster=with Webb.= But it was just the opposite.= When =we =got =back =to =Solange's=apartment, I told Mom I wanted to check e-=mail while she made dinner. Of course=Webb hadn't written to me. (Why wouldhe?) But I had something I needed to tell=him.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: =Subject: How life imitates art and=vice versa= Hi Webb. If I'm tired, you must be=wiped =out. =I =hope =you =didn't =fall=asleep on the train and wake up in=Italy. I also hope you can forgive me=for =not =offering =to =give =you =more=money. I totally should've paid for=half of your train fare. I know those=tickets weren't cheap. And it was so=great of you to make th