The Paris Chronicles

Apparently, I'm supposed to go to Paris. Here's some background to my "why". And in a few months... The journey!

[allthingseurope]

Montmartre, Paris (by Siebe)

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And now we are back.

And I am confident enough to insert myself into strangers’ conversations to give them unsolicited advice about whether they should visit sacre coeur. (They should at least go up the hill!)

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Here.

I am now, officially, in love with this city. And I realized today, with a side of very squirty eyes, that it's a good thing I did not know I would love it so much. If I had loved it all along, this would not have been my first time. And it's so beautiful to be here, everything new, with my love.

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Forty-One and Eight Months.

It’s booked.

We waited until I had pretty much given up that it was even going to happen, but it is really going to happen.

We fly out on January 4, 2017 and will return on January 14.  

Everything has fallen into place.  

My travel agent told us to wait until airfare was no more than a certain price, and then we found it for far cheaper than that.  

Jenn shared a rad discount at her store, so we managed to stock up on layers since it’s going to be “freeze-your-bits-off” cold in Paris in January.  

Our hotel is booked and we have our list of all we want to see/do/eat there.

We have booked nothing other than that.  We are going to play it by ear.

I am sad that we will be missing out on three parties we would have loved, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I have no intention of squandering it.

Because I was the one who was wrong.  

It was always supposed to be Paris.

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Forty and Eleven Months.

It was the worst spring break ever.

I was at Starbucks, picking up drinks for NOF and B.  It was the least I could do since NOF’s husband had just passed away two days earlier.  

My phone was blowing up with texts.  A former student was away on a college tour and she was sending me photos and telling me about her trip, and then Dayna texted me to ask if I had been to England or France.  Since she would be visiting both during the long Winter Break, and was looking for suggestions.

Why, yes, I’ve been to London and would be happy to make suggestions, and will be in Paris over Winter Break.

And, of course, the Paris bit of her trip would overlap with ours.

Of course it would!

She had her trip mostly planned out by spring break, but Steve and I would wait to book it.  His frugality was going to pay off for us.

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Forty and Nine Months.

There was more to that calendar than I had noticed.  All I knew was that my BCN 2017 plans were not to become a reality.

It was a colleague who noticed that “We get our three-week winter break again!”

Oh, but we also would be teaching until December 23.

Are you fucking kidding me???

What good is an extra week off at Winter Break when I would not even be able to share time with my son?

You see, my son’s winter break usually consisted of spending the first week with me.  He would be with me through Christmas Eve with my family, then go back to his dad’s on Christmas morning.  He usually was there through the New Year.

But this year, I would be working during that first week.

Great.  I wouldn’t even get to spend any time off with my son.

This suuuuuuucked.

Luckily, his dad was flexible this year and we would be able to figure out a peaceful resolution so that I could still spend vacation time with my son.

Of course, now I would have two weeks off while my son was in school and Steve was at work.  Two weeks with nothing to do...  That would suck.

Wait.

Two weeks while my son was in school?

Maybe we could take a winter honeymoon?  January?  We would have six months fewer to save up, but maybe a January honeymoon would not suck?

Steve said Barcelona would not be great in January.  Too cold.

So where would we go instead?

A few beachy locations were thrown out there.  But I am a spoiled brat and the idea of going to Hawaii (where I’ve been twice already) as a consolation for Barcelona did not sit well with me.

“What about Paris?” Steve suggested.  It’s his second favorite city on the planet.  And he had wanted to be there with me for many years.

“Fine,” I agreed.  “I guess we can go to Paris.”

And THAT is when I realized that I was always going to Paris.  And, of course, it would be with Steve.  And, of course, it would be for our honeymoon.

Who takes a honeymoon nearly two years after their wedding?

Uh, who waits more than twenty years to figure out you’re even supposed to be together?

It’s actually all perfect.

Of course, we’re going to Paris for our honeymoon!

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Forty and Eight Months.

We got the calendar for the 2016-2017 school year.

I went straight to June.

And burst into tears.

Not only were we not off at the end of May, but our last day of school would be AFTER my son’s last day of school!

What.The.Fuck???

I was devastated.

There went our Barcelona plans.

No honeymoon for the Lathi, after all.

Sad Face.

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Forty and Seven Months (ish?)

Our District told us that we would be getting a new calendar for the following school year:

We would be starting either the first or second week of August and we would be out by the end of May.  “Don’t make any August vacation plans,” our Union told us.  “But keep this calendar in mind until it’s finalized.”

Lots of my colleagues were pissed off.  No problem here.  We would just make our family travel plans for July.

But, wait...  I would be getting out of school a full two weeks before my son would?  Hmmm...  This opened up some possibilities.  Only if my son was in school and could stay with his dad, could I justify taking a trip with my husband and without my son.  And this calendar left two weeks open to do just that.

Whoa.

Maybe we would take a honeymoon after all!

A June, 2017 honeymoon...  Where would we go?  To a beach somewhere?  Europe?

Why, Barcelona, of course.  Barcelona is Steve’s favorite city on the planet.  And it would be Europe AND the beach!  He pulled out his Barcelona journals and I began scheming and dreaming.  I would not start booking tickets until I had the actual dates, but I was ready for BCN, June, 2017! 

I was ridiculously excited about it and I Could.Not.Wait.

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Forty and Five Months.

My husband moved to be with us!  He left everything he had known for 40 years to be with us!

He got a new job and a new wardrobe and new everything...

We had so much to learn about being married and living together and being a family, we just focused on that for awhile.

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Timelines.

I had it all planned out.  We would get engaged after about a year and get married on Super-Pi Day.  Because Super-Pi Day was on a Saturday and it would only happen once in our lifetime.  And I am a super-nerd, and so I had to be married on Super-Pi Day.

It was important to Steve to see his building finished, and he would not be able to move in March.  He would not be able to move until October, probably.

“Then let’s get married on Super-Pi Day anyway,” I insisted.

We were not even engaged.

And we did not get engaged on our anniversary.

And he did not want to be married and live apart.

So, we decided to elope toward the end of summer instead.  On a trip that was already planned with my son.  It would be just the three of us and it would be perfect.  I did not care about a wedding, nor a honeymoon.  I just wanted to be married to this man.

Steve proposed on Christmas morning, 2014.

And his mother made it clear that eloping would not be okay with her.

So, I was back to wishing for Super-Pi Day Wedding.

And then his brother had a stroke and threw the family into turmoil.

I watched my dream of a super-pi day wedding slip away...

But then...  With about five weeks to go, Steve agreed.  

We quickie sent out a Facebook invitation and our Super-Pi Day Flash Wedding was born.

And by Flash, we meant “do it, get ourselves married, then go back to work on Monday”.

A honeymoon never really entered our minds.  I had a teenaged son, and I would not leave him during this time.  We would take a honeymoon after he went off to college.  For now, it was business as usual, and family vacations.

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Thirty-Eight and Eight Months.

He was totally my boyfriend.

He came to my family’s Thanksgiving that weekend (My son had been with his dad for Thanksgiving, so I went to my SoulMate’s and we postponed our family Thanksgiving until the Saturday at my dad’s).

My dad was afraid to tell me, “I think you should keep seeing him.”

“Dad, I’m actually glad to hear that,” I said.  “I’m not a teenager anymore!  That actually means a lot to me!”

Steve took me to his niece’s birthday party and to his family’s Christmas.  We spent New Year’s together, too.

He was totally my boyfriend.

We made plans to spend spring break in Vegas, celebrating his divorce.

He had already told his mother that I would not be moving to San Diego since my custody papers decreed I stay in Orange County, so he would probably be moving north to be with me.

And I was only a tiny bit frightened because I knew fairly early on that if we were really doing this, it was for real and it was forever.

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Later That Week.

He would tell me later that he was not going to wait a year because I might not be single in a year.  And he was not going to let this opportunity go by.

I heard from Steve every day that week.

And on the night before Thanksgiving, we talked for five hours.

Five.

I killed my phone’s battery twice and had to go sit on the couch so I could plug in.

And it was during that phone conversation that I stared at my little Paris corner in my living room and he told me about Barcelona and Paris.  I had known he had been there, but this conversation was much more detailed.  And I railed on about how I am not a cliche American girl and I don’t care about Paris.  And he told me that he would really like to go to show me Paris.  

“Gah,” I said.  “Fine, I’ll go to your Paris.  But you have to go see my London!”

You see, Steve had been to London.  It was toward the very end of his time over there and he was ready to go home.  So, he did not love London.  He did not love London like I love London.  And I don't care about Paris, but if he loves Paris, I guess I could go.

This was all hypothetical, of course.  We were just talking.  It’s not like we were dating or anything.

After very little sleep, I went to the SoulMate’s house for Thanksgiving.  And I put my phone with my shoes and was determined not to look at it until I left.

Of course, I could not help myself, and Steve sent me a picture of his bloody bandaged finger, telling me he had cut himself.  My SoulMate’s friend kept referring to Steve as my boyfriend and I was very quick to tell her “He’s not my boyfriend!”

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The Next Morning.

I woke up happy.  Not questioning anything.  Just...  Happy.

And then he texted me...

“I know it hasn’t quite been a year, but good morning.”

Oh, my.

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Thirty-Eight and Seven Months (Part 2)

I was enjoying the beautiful day...  Loving the music CC had chosen for me... I knew that in that town, I would not go hungry, nor would I feel like I really needed to drive right back home.

I found my way to Steve’s place after just one little mistake, which was kind of hilarious.  I heard 6th Street when he had said 5th Street.  Huh.  Actually, thinking about it now...  Seems totally fitting.

I was ready to see him, hug him, and say good-bye.  

But then...  I sat down.  And then jumped up.  To check out his place.  That was when I learned he is an artist.  I had not realized that before.  And then the Mormons pounded on the door.  And that was rather hilarious.

So, then we were laughing together.  Again.

Then he told me he wanted to buy a window.  And I wanted to be with him when he bought it.  Because reasons.

So, he invited me to go with him.  Spontaneous.  So not like the old Steve.

And we walked to his car and he put his hand on my back.  He seemed confident.  So not like the old Steve.

And we went to this place that I loved.  And I found a key for CC.  And he bought his window.

My work here was done.

But then he asked if I was hungry.  And then asked me to dinner.  So not like the old Steve!

Wine with dinner loosened our tongues and we really caught up.  We felt more comfortable over that meal.

But the evening had to end and I had to drive home.  We talked about bit about how comfortable we felt.  One thing I knew was that I would not go through his divorce with him.  I had been there, done that, and I refused to do so again.

“Get yourself divorced, then give it another six months,” I told him.  “Then, call me.”

Our hug good-bye at that point turned into a lovely kiss...  And then I needed to leave.

As we approached the door, something caught my eye.  Steve had created a little collage of some of his mementos from Europe.  And I noticed his ticket to the Louvre.  It was dated 06/08/07.  Being an American, I assumed June 8.  2007.  Holy shit.  He was in Paris just as I was having that pivotal conversation with Drew!  Blew.My.Mind.

I called Alice on the way home and I was just...  Happy.  I had no expectations, I was simply grateful for having shared a lovely evening with someone I cared about.  I was grateful that it was clear he cared about me.  And, damn, that had been an amazing kiss.

I texted him when I got home, sending him a photo of a terrifying clown I had seen during our outing.  We laughed about it via text.

And then it was time for sleep...  It had been a far lovelier day that I had expected, and who  knew what would happen in a year?

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Thirty-Eight and Seven Months.

It was our annual school Thanksgiving.

And I sat across from Dayna, and she asked me, “So, how’s your dating life going?”

I supposed my dating life had been rather fascinating for the previous four years, so it was rather shocking to us both when I said, “I’m not seeing anybody right now.  Like, I am really, truly single at this moment.  And I like it.”

I had already decided that I was not about to start something before the holidays.  NOF had told me I could sign up for an online dating site on February 15 the following year.  That way there was no pressure regarding Christmas nor valentines day.

So, there I was...  Totally single.  And glad to be.  I liked the calm surrounding me at that time.

I had had a letter drafted to Steve, basically telling him that even though we had been catching up for a month or so at that point, I did not think his friendship would be good for me, so we needed to call the whole thing off.  I needed to be done.

The day after telling Dayna I was single, I sent that email to Steve.

Two days later, I was crying about it.  (I know.  I’m such a girl.)  He and I spoke and said our good-byes.  He offered to drive up to see me, to hug me, and say goodbye in person, but I could not let him do that.  It would not be on my terms if I allowed that, so I refused.

CC had sent me a CD she had made me and I needed to listen to it.  I received it that day.

And I called Melanie, crying, saying, “I didn’t even get to hug him this time!”

“Why don’t you drive down there and get your hug?” Melanie asked me.

“Well, because I had not thought of that!” I sputtered.

Armed with CC’s CD, gas in my car, and a beautiful day, I drove down to see Steve.  To hug him and say good-bye.

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Thirty-Eight and Six Months

The Long Beach Marathon.

I had signed up for it on a bit of a whim.  I had been in San Francisco for the 1/2 marathon I had run with that other guy, and while I was getting much stronger, thanks to PayanX, I was ill-prepared for 26.2 miles, but I would run it anyway.  Besides, I would complete my Beach Cities series there and pick up an extra medal.

I was thrilled that Anne would be running the half-marathon and she volunteered to pick up my race gear for me.  I was glad because I really did not want to run into that other guy when he would be there for the kids’ run with his daughters.  It had been months since we had had contact, but I was still raw over how that had ended.  Something felt bad about that (and would for a couple of years, actually) and I could not put my finger on it.  

The beginning of the race was perfect.  The first nine miles were amazing.  I was kicking ass.  A PR was in my sights.

But then I hit the wall, and it was ridiculous and that day broke my heart in a thousand ways.

Anne and TW were there at my finish, to hug me and dry my tears.  Which came out afresh when I went to pick up my Beach Cities medal and they had run out. That race had kicked my ass and not receiving that medal kicked me while I was down.

The next morning, I posted something about apologizing to the marathon gods, but please let me make it through my day at work.  I had a student teacher and a bunch of students who were counting on me.

As I hobbled around my bedroom, I heard the tone that meant a text had come through.

And I saw Steve’s name on my screen.

I did not even look at the text at that time because I was 100% certain it was an accident.  He never texted me anymore.  It was not my birthday and so he must have meant to text someone else.  In fact, I was already drafting my response to him before I read it twenty minutes later...  Who did you mean to text?  Shane?  Shawn?

But it was not an accident.

“You were right, I was wrong.  I should have listened to you.”

He did not even sign his name.  That was how certain he was that I had not deleted his number after our silliness over birthdays six months earlier.

“And good morning to you, too,” I replied.  “Do I want to know what you’re talking about?”

He was getting divorced and he wanted to apologize for not being a good friends to me.

I was having none of it.

I was torn.  

Each time he had been in my life, he had been my best friend during those times.  But we weren’t friends anymore and I had a noble reason for giving it up.    Now he wanted to apologize, but I was not sure I wanted to be friends again.  I cared about him, still, but I had learned a lot about myself in these recent years, and I was not going to be derailed by someone who had not treasured my friendship as much as I had treasured his.

So...  No.

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Thirty-Eight and Three Months.

I had to change my email address.  

And I was thisclose to changing my cell phone number.

My stalker-auntie had been bugging me again.  I even received a message or two from her in Dublin.  Luckily, I was a tiny bit drunk when I received them so I did NOT mince words with her.  I needed to find better ways to eliminate her presence from my world.

I was looking into changing my number when the latest iOs update came out for iPhone.  And Leah told me that it had a “call block” feature.

So, I used it.

And because I did not change my number that week, everything else could fall into place.