He swallows hard, biting his lip. Then he takes the cocktail umbrella from my glass, carefully folds it, and hands it to me. "One last memory, then I really have to go."
It's just a small gesture, but it fills me with so much warmth that I no longer feel the cold of the ice bar.
I tuck the umbrella into the front pocket of my backpack and stand. "Off to Japan."
***
Ninety minutes later, Maxime is still with me. Several times he has made it clear that he has no more time, yet we are now on our bicycles heading to the last stop. Although our shared experiences have changed something in his closed demeanor toward me, my nausea is increasing with every passing minute. During the picnic in the Japanese garden of Bois de Boulogne, I could hardly eat a bite of the prepared tapas. And when we posed for a memory selfie with small torches in our hands next to the minimalist version of the Statue of Liberty in Jardin du Luxembourg, I felt dizzy for the first time.
Maxime has scrutinized me again and again, but he hasn't asked any questions. Instead, he has answered mine, and we have told each other about our new lives. Sometimes we laughed together, and sometimes we smiled wistfully. Sometimes I cried, and sometimes he looked at me as if he wanted to embrace me.
We've talked about so much. That's why I now know why he keeps checking the time. His train to London departs in ninety minutes. The Eurostar is not an ordinary train; you have to go through a procedure like at the airport to board it. A procedure that normally takes three hours. Yet Maxime is here with me. He can still make the train, although time is running out.
Will he leave after our last experience?
With that question in the back of my mind, I park my bike next to Maxime's at the Paul Gasq fountain.
With every memory, I asked Maxime if he was ready for it.
But this time, I can't do it.
Because I don't even know if I'm ready for it.
With a pounding heart, I glance at the two long staircases leading up to the forecourt of Sacré-Cœur.
"Unfortunately, we don't have time for that," Maxime says, appearing next to me unnoticed.
"It's the last memory, then you can..." I want to say,go forever, if that's really what you want, but the words won't come out.
"We don't need the caricature of us," he says, shaking his head.
So he doesn't even dare to imagine that something entirely different could be waiting for him up there. Is it because he himself doesn't want it? Or because he doesn't believe I can do it?
My fingers tremble as I push my hair away from my face. "Yes," I whisper, tense.
It would be so much easier for me to let him go now. But we still have to live through this last memory together, no matter how much it scares me.
It's something worth fighting for.
The conversation with Maxime in the ice bar was clear. He doesn't believe me when I say I have learned to trust myself. He thinks I still want to control everything, can't let go, and hand over control to others. Our future depends on proving him wrong. And proving it to myself as well.
"It's just before nine o’clock." I catch myself reaching for his hand but stop just in time.
He scrutinizes me for too long. "Okay," he finally says.
Together, we climb the stairs. Maxime never stops reminding me that he will miss his train if he doesn't leave for the station in the next fifteen minutes.
"We'll call you a taxi, it'll be faster," I suggest. The evening traffic has already eased up, it should work. "You've already checked in, so they'll probably let you go ahead in the queue, right?" I ask even though I can hardly breathe myself.
He grumbles, half agreeing, half reluctant.
The higher we climb, the thinner the air seems to be. My legs feel infinitely heavy, and the nausea in my stomach becomes overwhelming.
Finally, with weak knees, I step onto the crowded forecourt of Sacré-Cœur.
Here, among loving couples, skateboarders, and street artists, in the dim light of the setting sun and with a view of all of Paris, our storm is about to come to an end.
Suddenly, Maxime stops. "Listen, Aurora," he says uncertainly. "I don't think this is a good idea. What are we going to do with the picture?"
