Distraught lovers from all of the world somehow find romantic adventures in Paris.
“Suzy, I’ve got it!” my sister cried out. “Let’s take those plane tickets and go to Paris! Just as planned…..but different.”
“To Paris?” I bawled. I was a mess but I didn’t care. Mascara mixed with tears, running down my face in great blobs, washing much of my make-up away and making me look like a melting wax figure. I had torn the pins from my hair and thrown them across the room, I took fistfuls of my wedding dress and wept like an infant. But I didn’t care. He was gone. And he didn’t love me.
“Yeah, come on,” Amanda said enthusiastically, standing from my mattress. “It’ll help you forget about it!”
I sat up, sobs still distorting my voice. “Paris? The City of Love? The City of Love will help me forget? The place of my honeymoon will help me forget!” I wept, falling hard onto my pillow, my tears soaking the cloth.
She sat at my side, smoothing out her bridesmaid dress and putting her hand gently on my back. I cried furiously in my pillow, choking on my sobs. "Come on, Suz, be reasonable; are you just going to hide in your room with the curtains closed for eternity?" Amanda said gently.
"Reasonable!" I declared shrilly, rising from my pillow. "My fiancee left me at the alter and you're tellling me to be reasonable!" I sniffed, attempting to calm my breathing as I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I shook my head, mururmuring, "How, for this long, did I not see he was a total.....dirtbag? How could I be so....blind?"
"Oh, Suz," she tried to soothe me. "Usually dirtbags are always in disguise and jump out and surprise you-that's what partially makes them dirtbags."
I sighed. "Three years? Three years and I could see?"
Amanda shrugged. "Better now, right? Rather than being married and having to get a divorce?" I couldn't help laughing slightly, continuing to rub my eyes. My sister; always had that way about her. "C'mon, let's get you out of that dress and clean you off."
Somehow Amanda convinced me the next morning to get out of bed and head to the airport with her. We were going to Paris. I longed to stay under the covers, but Amanda's insistence got me going. We sat in the airport, waiting, watching the people go by. "Why did I even choose France for a honeymoon?" I murmured. "Why not the Carribean or something? I can't even speak French."
Amanda chuckled, even though my statement wasn't very light-hearted. "You've always wanted to go to Europe."
I half smiled. Not under these circumstances.