ChapterEight
JEMMA
I only have one more encounter with Luca as we shuffle down the aisle to exit the plane.He catches my eye and offers me a friendly smile.And just like that, he’s gone, moving ahead with the flow of passengers, blending into the crowd.
Goodbye forever, Luca Dubois.
Once I’m off the plane and through customs, the reality of my situation sets in.I’m in Paris with very little research under my belt, and my funds are limited.As I wait for my luggage at baggage claim, I consider my options: train or taxi.
I should probably save money and take the train, but the lines at the ticket machines are snaking through the terminal, filled with a plethora of tired, confused, and frustrated travelers.Do I really want to be one of those people right now?Plus, I’ll have to drag my luggage with me and likely end up nowhere near my rental.I think this is one of those times when it’s okay to splurge.
So, taxi it is.
The conveyor belt roars to life, and after a couple of minutes, I spot my luggage making its way toward me.I yank my suitcase from the carousel, follow a sea of travelers outside, and locate the taxi queue.
When it’s finally my turn, I greet the driver with a polite “Bonjour,” pull out my printed reservation, and show him the address of my vacation rental.
He nods and helps with my luggage as I settle into the backseat.
I’m in Paris.I did it!
A satisfied smirk creeps across my face.I feel like I need to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.Just a few days ago, I never would have imagined I would be in Paris by the start of the weekend.
I can’t wait to get settled in and relax with a book on my balcony overlooking the picturesque cobblestone courtyard.Maybe later tonight I can stop by one of the restaurants on my street for dinner.I’m dying to explore everything around my rental, plus all the major must-sees.I have exactly three weeks to do whatever my little heart pleases—within budget, of course.
I pull my phone from my carry-on, eager to power it on and do a little research, but a memory of Gretchen shifts into my mind: “Don’t forget to grab a SIM card when you land.”
Crap!
I totally forgot that little detail.If I turn my phone on, I’m bound to get hit with a charge I can’t afford.Thank goodness my apartment has Wi-Fi.Once I get settled, I’ll look up where to grab a card.Hopefully, there’s a store close by.
I slip my phone back into my bag, feeling a little nervous about not being connected.But this is good for me.A true test of my ability to live in the moment.
As we drive, I gaze out the window, mesmerized by the buildings that blur past, and my heart swells with excitement.Everything is so old and, for the most part, well-maintained.The architecture is so stunning it brings me to tears.I’ve never seen anything like it before.I’m awestruck.
About fifteen minutes into the drive, I attempt to break the silence and make some small talk.However, I quickly realize the driver doesn’t speak a lick of English, and I’m too exhausted to practice my French.Maybe after a good night’s rest, I’ll be more willing to pull some conversational sentences from my brain.
Eventually, we cross over the Seine, and before I know it, the cab driver pulls over, shifting the car into park with a sudden jerk.I scan my surroundings, eager to spot my idyllic vacation rental.
But something seems off.
My eyes dart up and down the street, desperately searching for the quaint apartment building I rented for the month, but it’s nowhere in sight.
“Soixante-cinq euros, s’il vous plaît,” the driver prompts, extending his hand for his payment.
I again show him the paper with the address, pointing directly to it, hoping he pulled up to the wrong location.
He nods.“Oui.”
Unease swirls in my gut as I pass him my credit card.I crane my neck, still scanning the street for the building pictured in my reservation.
Which one is it?
Noticing the obvious confusion etched on my face, the driver gestures toward the building to the right of the cab as he hands back my card.“C’est ça,” he says.
Sure enough, that’s the address I gave him.
I swallow hard, my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach.
