A One-Way Trip to Nowhere
Dree
Dree woke up alone in the feather-soft bed at the Four Seasons in Paris when room service knocked on the door with breakfast and coffee. “Monsieur said that you should have a dozen croissants.”
“I can’t eat them all,” Dree told the woman.
The Black woman pressed her lips together primly and spoke with a Caribbean accent. “I would never judge, but I can tell you that the hotel’s croissants are worth the calories if you do.”
“Can I ask you a question, ma’am?”
“Of course, madam. What would you like to know?”
“Is there a balance?”
Dree was praying that Augustine hadn’t swindled her, too. If he had left the hotel and stuck her with the bill, she couldn’t pay back what all of this must’ve cost in her lifetime.
The room service waiter cocked her head quizzically, her ponytail leaning to one side.“I beg your pardon?”
Dree asked, “Is there a balance on the bill? How much do I owe the hotel?”
The waiter’s dark eyes brightened as she figured out what Dree was talking about. She held her hands out in front of herself and did a jazz-hands thing, shaking them. She was obviously skilled at communicating with hotel guests when everyone was trying to make do with their third language.
She said, “No, no. The gentleman has settled the bill. He said his account was to be left open until you leave the hotel. He has scheduled you for late check-out, up until four in the afternoon. If you want anything from room service or to order something from a store, it will all be on the hotel bill. It is all taken care of. He has tipped us generously and said that you are not to be bothered.”
“Okay. Um, thanks. The coffee smells heavenly.”
“Please ring if there is anything else you require.”
And then Dree was alone in the hotel room.
She packed her clothes and carefully tucked the napkin with her bucket list inside one of the zippered side pockets. Ten of the items had been crossed off her list, which was amazing for four days. Her life was changing.
Although, she and Augustine had never tried the butt stuff.
And butt stuff was on that napkin in several variations.
Yeah, well, Augustine may not be the guy she’d want to pick for first-time butt stuff.
Maybe she’d want someone . . . less enormous.
The emptiness in the room felt odd every time she turned around and no one was there.
She just kept expecting Augustine to be around, sitting in a chair with his long legs crossed and watching her with his dark, intense stare, or asleep in the bed with a look of absolute peace smoothing his skin.
A couple of times, when she’d awakened before him, she’d watched Augustine sleep. It wasn’t in a creepy way. Not too creepy, anyway. She was trying to memorize the perfect planes of his face, the hard angle of his jaw, the heavy muscle that lay on his shoulders and arms, and the way his black hair fell in waves across his forehead.
When she looked at Augustine, he had an almost unearthly beauty, like an angel.
She couldn’t quite shake that thought.
Unfortunately, he slept in a tee shirt, so she still hadn’t gotten a good look at his backpiece tattoo.
Dree did not require anything else from the hotel because she didn’t want to take advantage of Augustine’s incredible generosity. She ate two croissants and packed the rest to eat on the plane, tucking them in a shopping bag she’d carefully folded and saved. She had no idea where she was going or how long she would be on the plane, and packing a snack seemed like a good idea. The plane from Phoenix to Paris had served food, but she wasn’t sure how many flights did that. That had been her first plane trip.
Sister Ann had emailed Dree sometime overnight with an address and a name.
Father Moses Teklehaimanot, Église Saint-Sulpice, Paris, 10:30 AM.
