 
### THE TEST

By Steve Weinberg

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Published by:

Steve Weinberg at Smashwords

Copyright © 2015 by Steve Weinberg

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Brief Summary

One of the key tenets of existentialism is to "live life to the fullest." On a study abroad trip in the South of France, Marie feels enormous pressure to squeeze every drop of enjoyment out of life. But when she makes out with a guy at a party, she fears that there is an infinitesimal chance she contracted HIV from this French kiss. With this doubt tormenting her, she begins to feel like an exile from Eden.

Extended Summary

For most of human history, life has been nasty, brutish, and short. Even the most romanticized and glorified ages—the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, Ancient Athens—were still cauldrons of war, disease, poverty, and grueling labor. Of course, people expect epochs from the distant past to be somewhat cruel and barbaric, but what historians consider the late modern era was no less merciless on its population. The modern nineteenth century is associated with scientific advancement and the rise of democracy, but anyone who expected life to be something less than calamitous in these times was fooling himself. In the nineteenth century and into the twentieth, parents were still burying most of their children, men were working eighty-hour weeks in smoke-filled factories, and kings and tsars were nonchalantly sending fleets of peasants to the front lines of megalomaniacal wars. It was probably only after the Second World War that the West ceased being a place of acute and pervasive suffering.

In those times, people were captivated by the idea that an Eden lay beyond the grave, or that a Utopia lay beyond the revolution. These were almost necessary beliefs for people who knew nothing close to Eden or Utopia on Earth.

Fast-forward to a study abroad trip in 2007 in the South of France, where this novel takes place. By this point in history, life in the West is now not nasty, brutish, and short, but fun, pleasant, and very long. In fact, life itself is so wonderful and enjoyable in these times, that the joy of day-to-day existence alone can be a person's raison-d'être. And for American college kids in a world of abundant sunshine, cobblestone villages, and sidewalk cafés, life is almost certain to be not only joyful, but blissful and euphoric.

Marie Weltstern, the story's protagonist, comes into the semester with the highest expectations for her study abroad experience. She wants everything that the image of study abroad has to offer: an amorous fling with a foreign man or two, group photos in front of the Eiffel Tower and the Coliseum, candid shots of her and her girlfriends laughing hysterically while holding large glasses of beer, tasty and exotic meals at every possible occasion, and a basic mood that oscillates between ecstasy and tranquility. In short, Marie expects to live in Eden.

But as she sits in class on the first day of the semester, Marie realizes more and more that the contentedness of her study abroad experience is under serious threat. As a freshman in college, Marie had engaged in unprotected oral sex with her boyfriend who had been somewhat promiscuous in the past with other girls. This sexual act, Marie knows, carries with it the very tiny chance of HIV transmission. To enjoy her semester to the fullest, Marie knows that she must remove this lingering doubt from her mind. She gets an HIV test on the first day of school. The test comes back negative, and Marie is able to enjoy France the way she pictured herself enjoying it—at least, for now.

A brief French kiss at a party causes Marie's unrest to return one hundredfold. She fears that the promiscuous guy she kissed had blood in his mouth and that she is once again at an infinitesimal risk of having contracted HIV. But now she can't decide whether to get tested, as she realizes that getting this unwarranted test will weaken her ability to forego unwarranted HIV tests in the future. This question—to test or not to test—fills Marie with anxiety and fear. In this disturbed state, Marie watches with unhappiness as her carefree and beautiful friends enjoy the semester the way it was supposed to be enjoyed. Still, Marie remains determined to salvage her semester and figure out a way to stop obsessing about her risk of HIV.

As The Test journeys through Marie's innermost thoughts, it also takes its readers on a tour of France. Marie and her friends travel all over the country together, from the south to the north, from the city to the forest, from the dance club to the monastery. Through these adventures and the relationships she forms along the way, Marie slowly begins to understand and take control of her irrational fears.

THE TEST

Steve Weinberg

### Part I

Chapter 1

"Thank you, thank you, and welcome to France. You know, as I stand up here, looking at all of your youthful and smiling faces, I can really only think to myself one thing: These kids can't even imagine how much fun they're going to have.

"My name is Ben Williamson, and I'm the assistant director of the study abroad program here in Faubourg. My job, above all else, is to make sure you guys are feeling comfortable in your new environment. So if you have any problems or concerns at all, please, don't feel shy about coming to see me. That's what I'm here for.

"The American Institute in Faubourg took me on only about a year ago, but I actually used to be a student here myself. Way back in the spring of '95—twelve years ago. So it wasn't so long ago that I was sitting where you're all sitting right now. I remember feeling scared, nervous, maybe even a little homesick. But above all, I felt determined to have the best damn time of my life. And that, my friends, I certainly did.

"I read great pieces of French literature like Madame Bovary, Le Petit Prince, and The Three Musketeers; I snuck out of my host family's apartment late at night to see midnight showings of films; I drank wine in the park; I traveled to London, Paris, Rome, and Amsterdam.

"Best of all though, it was here that I met the woman who is now my wife. No, I did not marry some seductive and sexy French artist who was dressed all in black and wearing a beret—although that wouldn't have been so bad! I'm kidding you guys, of course. To make a long story short, my wife and I fell in love with each other as we were both falling in love with the South of France. She was the girl who was always waiting in line behind me at the crêpe stand or at the pâtisserie; she was the girl sitting on a bench and sipping a glass of le vin rosé as I would enter the park with my own bottle, each of us carrying our own copy of whatever novel we happened to be reading. Coincidentally, I ran into her at the Louvre over our spring break. I think we both decided at that point that it had to be fate, and we shared our first kiss in front of the Mona Lisa. I know, pretty smooth, right?

"My point, guys, is this: You are young. You are in the prime of your lives. I wish I could be twenty or twenty-one again. So be sure to take full advantage of all this program and this country have to offer. Meet the locals, learn about concepts like globalization and multiculturalization, and travel all over Europe! Drink French wine, eat baguettes, fall in love, take tons of pictures! And most importantly, boys, please, watch out for the French women!

"Thank you so much.

"Now I'm going to turn things over to Dean Schwarzkopf, so please join me in giving him a warm round of applause."

Chapter 2

Despite the sunny morning, long shadows were stretching down the cobblestone street. Four-story row houses lined the narrow path, and the Gothic cathedral a few blocks over towered high.

All along the street, pigeons were poking their beaks in little clumps of broken rock and dirt, hoping to recover the crumbs of breakfasts eaten in transit. The aroma of crisp baguettes baking in the oven of a nearby boulangerie meandered down the medieval street, and even drifted through the highest windows of the row homes. Though the air was cool, one needed only to find a place to warm his back underneath the sun to know that, in a few hours, the day would turn very hot.

The stillness of the cobbled street, of rue Dauphin, was abruptly broken as one of its olive-green steel doors swung open. Farther down the street, a crouched homeless woman and her child looked on as blurred and vibrant colors flooded out from the doorway, first dotting and then overwhelming the sandy, faded scene. It was like watching a landscape painter step up to his canvas and suddenly create a raucous crowd striding across it.

The students were now emptying onto the square, la place Pouvoir, as from the mouth of a river. Their bronze skin glowed in the heat of the sunrays, which now fell from a steeper angle in the sky. Indistinguishable pairs of tall and firm and smooth-faced legs moved across the square. Topped by billowing skirts, bright and colorful, they moved gracefully and without direction. The girls to whom they belonged mingled, introduced, and laughed, all the while attempting to find the location of their first class of the day.

Above waist-level came the rush of color. The boys wore lime-green and lavender polo shirts, striped and solid tees which fit closely to their trim bodies, logoed tees that showcased the well-toned muscles of their arms and chests. Many had on lively baseball hats, which tended to face forward, as the sun that day was dazzling. Most of the girls were wearing dresses, but a few had on t-shirts or tank tops or tube tops. As their hair bounced and shimmered in the sunlight, onlookers were left unknowingly mesmerized.

The clattering of flip-flops on paved stone, bursts of laughter that exploded from small gatherings and spread like ripples in a pond, the simple sound of a crowd and commotion had grown to its crescendo in the plaza and was now fading and dispersing down the side streets as the students traveled in groups to the semester's first classes. When the bells of the cathedral tolled at ten o'clock, only the most negligent students were still outside, either deliberating with one another or frantically searching for a staff member or a fellow lost student who perhaps still had with him his map and course schedule.

Chapter 3

The students became quiet as their professor entered the classroom. His silver hair was tied in a short ponytail, and he wore a cream-colored pullover, with a shallow v-neck. This intricately threaded pullover had the appearance of being handwoven, though it almost certainly was not. The professor had a well-tanned face and a well-tanned chest, which was dotted with silver and white curly hairs. On his feet were sandals, with thick, brown leather straps that overlapped and intersected dozens of times. Like several of the boys in the class, he donned a pair of khaki shorts, obstructed in various areas by his loose and draping pullover. His style was, perhaps, neoclassical: he tried to look as much like a civilian of the ancient Mediterranean world without appearing to be a complete anachronism.

"Bonjour, mes étudiants. My name is Professor Butler, and I'd first like to welcome you all to Faubourg. This will truly be a life-changing experience for you all."

Butler fell out of his stationary pose at the very center of the front of the room, and began pacing horizontally about four or five steps each way, his sandals lightly grazing and tapping the wooden floor.

"A little bit about me. I received my masters from Yale in Comparative Literature. I would have gone on to get my doctorate, but I was opposed to the postmodern, theoretical approach they were taking toward literature. Here they were taking these works of absolute perfection and interpreting them from perspectives of race, feminism, and sexuality. I thought to myself, 'Who am I to tamper with these Classics?' So I decided to take a step back and just humble myself before the text. Now—"

Professor Butler cut himself off. He was trying to see past the heads of the fifteen or so students seated before him. A group of pigeons had congregated on the ledge of one of the classroom's opened windows, located behind the last row of students. The unattractive coos coming up through their iridescent necks and then out of their bills were easily noticeable within the stillness of the room. Professor Butler navigated his way through a series of desks, backpacks, and handbags on his walk toward the back of the classroom. A puff of air coming through the open window caused the professor's long hairs to jump and play in unison for just a second, only to tumble swiftly down to his head as he yanked down the window with unmistakable finality. As one might have predicted, the pigeons scattered the moment the window came down like a guillotine. Professor Butler then returned to his post at the classroom's head and resumed speaking.

"Two job openings at the American Institute of Faubourg brought me and my wife to France fifteen years ago, and I have been teaching here ever since. I am now a fluent speaker of la langue française, and I live in a little château on the outskirts of Faubourg."

Professor Butler paused and surveyed the room. "Does anyone have any questions for me?" he asked.

No hands went up.

"No one ever has any questions," Professor Butler said, amused. "Well, I want to talk to you a little about the course, but before I do that, I'd like to get to know you guys—"

Without warning, a male student sitting in the back called out with glee, "Can we play 'Never Have I Ever?'"

Here, the class seemed to erupt in laughter, though it was unlikely that even half of the students were laughing loudly.

"What is this game, 'Never Have I Ever?' Is that what it's called?" Professor Butler asked. "And tell the class your name."

"My name's Russell. It's basically that you say something you've never done and then everyone who has done it has to raise their hand. So if I said, you know, um, 'Never have I ever done crack,' then the girl sitting next to me would have to raise her hand."

The girl sitting next to Russell turned bright red, gave a quick snort, and then began to laugh without control. She was a petite girl, but despite her smallness, her legs, crossed at the ankle, stretched out far onto the floor. She was wearing a summer dress.

"And it just goes around the room like that," Russell said. "It's really fun."

"I don't know," Professor Butler said. "Seems like it could get a little personal."

Professor Butler maintained his eye contact with Russell here for an extra second.

"Besides, I have a game that you might find you like more. I hate that system where every student just stands up and says where they're from. No one ever remembers what people said, and I think we can do better. So I'm going to break you guys off into pairs, and you're going to introduce your partner to the class. I want you to find out where your partner goes to school, where she's from, what she's majoring in, why she came to France, and... what her most embarrassing story is."

Chapter 4

"Hey guys. I'd like to introduce you all to Gary Harrington."

Russell put his arm around Gary for a few seconds and then broke off from him. Gary grinned and leaned into Russell.

"He's from Fort Wayne, Indiana, and he's a student at Indiana. He's also majoring in Psychology. He came to France because he's always wanted to see Europe, and remembers some French from what he learned in high school. And... you guys are going to love this story."

Russell was smiling as he turned his head to look at Gary.

"Tell it if you must," Gary said.

Russell laughed.

"So one time, the innocent-looking guy you all see in front of you right now got really drunk at a frat party and woke up the next morning, completely naked, on the middle of the baseball field!"

A wave of excited laughter swept the room—even Professor Butler was chuckling.

"How did you get home?" someone asked from the crowd.

"I ran back to my dorm completely naked," Gary said, who was now laughing harder than anyone.

Several seconds later, the commotion around the classroom began to die down. But despite the stillness gathering around him, Gary was still snorting out laughter, which he then attempted to stifle by putting his hands over his face.

"Okay, okay," Professor Butler said in a loud but calming voice. "That's enough."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Gary said with wrinkled eyes.

"Gary, now you introduce us to Russell."

"Okay," Gary said, quieting down. "So this is Russell. Sorry, what was your last name again, man?"

"Grunwald."

"Right, right! Okay, this is Russell Grunwald. He's from Phoenix, Arizona, but he goes to Ohio State now. He's majoring in communications, he wants to go to law school, and, um, wait." Gary paused. "Oh, right. One time when he was at church, he fell asleep and started snoring."

A few coughs and giggles surfaced throughout the classroom while Russell's hopeful eyes leapt from one student to the next.

"Okay, why don't we hear from..." Professor Butler looked around. "How about you two go next?"

This pair lacked the enthusiasm seen in Gary and Russell. They traded private glances and let out sighs after they heard their names called, and were smiling grudgingly as they left their seats. The young man had a slight swagger in his walk as he made his way to the front of the room. The girl trailed behind her partner, and appeared to have her eyes focused on his back for the entire way up.

The young man was wearing tight blue jeans, a plain white undershirt, and a button-up, woolen sweater that looked at once hip and grandfatherly. The girl had on a black dress with white polka dots. The dress was a bit too big on her, and a small coffee stain could be found on the dress' lower lining. She looked again into the eyes of her partner.

"You go ahead," he said.

The girl suddenly straightened her shoulders and forced a smile.

"Hey guys. Right, so this is Sebastian... Oh, sorry! What was your last name again?"

She laughed and looked out at her classmates.

"It's Wright," Sebastian said.

"Okay, so this is Sebastian Wright. He grew up in Portland, but now he's a student at the Art Institute of Chicago. And, um." The girl shifted her weight. "Once he started making out with a girl at a party, and he found out later in the night that she was his second cousin."

The entire room seemed to gasp in unison.

"Well, that's a new one," Professor Butler said. "Did that actually happen, Sebastian?"

Sebastian chuckled. "Nah, I just couldn't think of anything. I just wanted to have a fun story for you guys."

"Fair enough," Professor Butler said with a sigh.

Sebastian laughed again. "But if you really want to know something embarrassing, well, I can't swim."

The classroom laughed quietly together.

Sebastian waited a moment and then continued. "Anyway, I guess it's my turn. Okay, this is Marie Weltstern. Very cool girl—I just found out that she plays guitar. She goes to Hamilton College, a small liberal arts school in Upstate New York."

Here, Sebastian made eye contact with Marie and grinned. Immediately, two dimples appeared beneath his stubbly facial hair.

"She's double-majoring in English, and... what was the other thing, Marie?"

"History."

"Right. And history. She's also minoring in art history. She came to France because she loves European history and wants to get better at her French. And her most embarrassing story..." Sebastian paused and collected himself. Marie looked at him with curious and trembling eyes.

"So when Marie was a Freshman in college there was this guy who lived on her floor who she really liked."

"Actually it was the floor below me."

"Oh, right. The floor below her. So it was really obvious that Marie had a big crush on this guy. She wrote on his wall a bunch of times, she made him a few mix CDs, stuff like that. Basically, it was something people joked about every so often. Then, something happened with her dorm room. I think there was a problem with cockroaches..."

"Bedbugs," Marie said.

Sebastian laughed. "Bedbugs. So the school made her change her dorm room and she ended up living next door to this guy she liked. And everyone thought she changed rooms on purpose."

The class chuckled together at this, and a few students were laughing heartily.

"If I may ask," Professor Butler said, once the laughter had ceased. "What ended up happening between you two, Marie?"

"Oh," Marie said, pulling at the bottom of her dress. "Nothing happened, actually. He ended up getting back together with his high school girlfriend. The whole situation was kind of weird."

"That's too bad," Professor Butler said. "Okay, thank you, Sebastian and Marie."

Marie and Sebastian walked back to their seats, Marie with her head down and smiling timidly.

"So, who wants to go next?" Butler asked the class.

"We'll go!" two girls cried from one of the middle rows.

"Come on up," Professor Butler said.

The two girls seemed especially comfortable with each other as they made their way to the front of the room, as though they had already been friends for many months.

"Hiii guys. My name is Ariel, and this is Sarah Porter. She's actually majoring in French, so that's why she's here. And her dad owns a French business or something so she's been to France a lot in her life. She goes to Michigan—she's one of those smart girls. And, okay, get ready for this guys. One time, Sarah was smoking up with her friends in her backyard really late at night. Her dad must have smelled it from the house or something, because, the next thing they know, Sarah's dad is walking right towards them. So obviously they hide the bowl and everything, and they are all freaking out about what he's going to do. But then he gets there, and guess what he asked them."

No one made any guesses.

"He goes, 'Sarah, don't tell your mother, but can I take a few hits?' So then he smokes with them for the rest of the night!" Ariel said, her eyes flitting back and forth between the seated students.

"Oh my god, it was ridiculous," Sarah said. "So now I smoke with my dad like all the time."

"Yes, you know," Professor Butler said, "I am always astonished at how the American legal system comes down with such draconian punishments on marijuana users, and yet alcohol is completely legal to drink in America. With marijuana, you're more likely to just fall asleep or something, but think about all of the deaths that alcohol causes per year. It's ridiculous."

A few of the students in the class nodded their heads along with the professor.

"Okay, so now I'll do Ariel," Sarah said. "This is Ariel Greenberg. She goes to Syracuse and she came to the South of France because of how beautiful it is. She's also a communications major—like Russell."

"Nice," Russell said from his seat.

"Right." Sarah said. "And for Ariel's embarrassing story, well, it's not a 'story' really. She just messed up a lot at her bat-mitzvah and it was really embarrassing because her whole family was there and stuff."

Sarah smiled nervously out at the classroom. Her teeth were perfectly straightened and smooth and white, and her gums were pink and healthy.

"Well, I can't say I've been there," Professor Butler said.

Chapter 5

"Alors. So, you come here for the VIH test?" the nurse asked.

"Yes," Marie said. She paused. "And VIH is the same thing as HIV or AIDS, right? That's what the receptionist said."

"It is like this," the nurse said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. VIH is AIDS. I say this before to other Americans. We have different word for it in our nation. So you want the VIH test?"

"Oui." Marie glanced up quickly at the nurse and then resumed staring at the waxed linoleum floor.

The nurse smiled. "Alors. I think it's good for me to ask you questions first, yes?"

"Oui, oui. C'est bon," Marie said, crossing her legs and pulling the edges of her polka-dot dress over her upper thigh.

The nurse opened up the drawer of her desk, shuffled around some items, and then removed a pen and some papers.

"Did you share needles with another person?"

"No."

"Did you receive blood transfusion?"

"No, never, jamais."

"Okay, very good, very good."

The nurse turned the page.

"How about sex unprotected?"

"Yes, I have done that," Marie said. She smiled and then briefly clasped the cheeks of her freckled face with her right hand, altering the flesh like clay.

"Okay, and it was with how much partners?"

"Oh. Just one," Marie said, and held up her index finger.

"Okay, yes, yes. And which kind of sex was it? Oral, vaginal, or anal?"

Marie let out an abrupt laugh at the way the nurse pronounced these three words.

"The unprotected sex was always just oral. It was a lot of times. But all with one person," Marie said, again holding up her index finger. "And for regular sex we always used condoms, of course."

"And who is this boy?"

"Oh. He was my old boyfriend. We dated for six months or so. It wasn't that serious. We met in college."

"How long into this relationship was the last time you have oral sex with him?"

"Oh. Well, we actually broke up close to a year ago."

"One year?" The nurse said, her eyes widening.

"Yes. I know it's weird that I waited so long to get tested, but it's something that's just always been in the back of my mind. And I figure any other STDs would have shown up by now, so AIDS is the only one left. Now I just want to make sure I don't have it so I can completely relax this semester."

"You think your old boyfriend has the VIH?"

"No, I'm almost totally sure he doesn't—he's still completely healthy and all—but he messed around with a few girls before me, and one of these girls was known for, I guess, having sex with a lot of guys."

"Okay," the nurse said and reached for the pen to begin filling out some paperwork. "Okay, I thank you. We ask you for the statistics, yes? Statistics?"

Marie nodded.

"And do you have other medical problems that are of importance?" the nurse asked.

"Oh, well, I have a heart murmur—but it's benign, doesn't affect me at all. Also, I have some nerve damage in my mouth from when I got my wisdom teeth out."

Marie opened up her mouth and pointed inside.

"Nerve damage? How does this happen to you?"

"Well, my oral surgeon screwed up and bruised a nerve when he was taking my wisdom teeth out. It was a really rough surgery, apparently. The damage hardly affects me at all, just a little painful and annoying sometimes. I have to favor the left side of my mouth when I talk, basically. But it's something that's only noticeable to me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes. Okay. Do you have allergies?"

"No. Well, at least not that I know of."

"Okay," the nurse said. "Because you can get the VIH from sex unprotected, we give you test to your blood, okay?"

Marie nodded. The nurse stood up and began rummaging through her desk drawer.

You do this before?" the nurse asked.

Marie seemed to think to herself. "Getting an HIV test? Oops, I mean, VIH test?"

The nurse looked affectionately at Marie. "No, no. I meant to give blood in general."

"Well, let me think." Marie paused. "I'm sure I have. I'm kind of a hypochondriac; I'm always worried about getting sick and stuff. But, I don't know if that ever resulted in a blood test. Although, I'm sure I've had blood drawn for other reasons. Everyone has."

"D'accord..."

The nurse began preparing Marie's arm for the injection. She dabbed the area with rubbing alcohol, and Marie found the cool burning sensation to be refreshing.

It was easy for the nurse to find an injection site, for Marie's bright blue veins shone under her pale skin. The nurse complimented her on this trait.

Marie turned her head away from the nurse's work in an effort to lessen the pain and keep from fainting. But when the nurse pricked her, she still winced quietly and recalled the sensation of a bee sting. The nurse carried off the bag of fresh blood right past her face, and she caught a glimpse of the deep maroon sitting restlessly in the translucent container. She immediately looked down at the floor and did not raise her head until the nurse exited the small room. Now feeling somewhat relieved, Marie breathed in, the vapors of disinfectants and the flowery perfume of the nurse moving up into her nostrils.

The nurse returned to the room a few moments later.

"Okay, thank you, Marie. You have finished. Come back tomorrow for the results, okay?"

"Okay, thank you again," Marie said. "Thank you so much, really." She smiled at the nurse, left the room, and exited the hospital, into the hot sun and the unruly traffic of an August's workday afternoon.

Chapter 6

"I can't believe we haven't even been here for a week yet," Sarah said. Her eyes looked peaceful behind her oversized, leopard-print sunglasses.

"I know, right?" Ariel said. "How is that possible? It feels like I've known you two forever already." She took a sip of her coffee and then set it down again on the plastic table, placing it just to the left of its ceramic saucer, oddly.

A waiter began clearing the table next to theirs.

"Excusez-moi, monsieur ?" Ariel said to the waiter. "Trois verres d'eau, s'il vous plaît, trois verres d'eau."

The waiter stared at Ariel with a confused look until she said "d'eau" an additional time. He then nodded and promptly returned to the dark cave of the restaurant.

"I guess it's not that bright out anymore," Sarah said to herself, taking off her sunglasses. Ariel took hers off as well.

"Yeah, this day went by so fast. It's still pretty warm out here though, or maybe it's just from my coffee," Ariel said. She took another sip of her hot drink. All were silent for a few moments.

"Oh my god!" Ariel then exclaimed, quickly bringing her cup down to the table. "My host family is fucking ridiculous! We had, like, the longest dinner ever last night. I get home last night around eight and they're all literally sitting around the table waiting for me. Then the mom serves us like a five-course meal and we don't finish until ten. And we're drinking wine the whole time so by the time we finish I'm literally exhausted."

"My family's way worse," Marie said. "They're definitely only hosting me for the money. They, like, don't talk to me. At dinner, it's just me, the mom, and her daughter—I think the mom's divorced. And the mom and the daughter just talk to each other in French the whole meal while I just sit there in silence."

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Sarah said. "That's horrible!"

The waiter returned with a tray carrying three ice waters. The girls maneuvered their cups and saucers to make room for the glasses on the already crowded table.

"Merci," Marie said, looking up at the waiter. She noticed that the waiter transferred her drink to the table by gripping the glass rather close to its top. Surely her mouth would meet the germs and sweat from his fingers. Why should that matter now? Marie told herself with joy. Even if I get sick, I know I can rely on my 100% pristine immune system to quickly restore me to health.

She returned her gaze to her friends. "Yeah, I mean it kind of sucks, but whatever. Also, my mom called their house line once from the States—I gave her their number because I hadn't gotten my cell phone yet—and my host mom came in and made me get off the phone after, like, ten minutes."

"That sucks," Ariel said.

"Yeah. I know."

Marie reached for her cup and took a long gulp of tea. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then returned the cup to its saucer.

"Well, you certainly seem to be having a good time otherwise," Sarah said from across the table with a menacing grin.

"Oh yeah?" Marie said. "What makes you say that?"

Ariel burst out laughing, and two young men at a nearby table again turned their heads. Ariel's suntanned and slender figure seemed just barely covered by her red and white striped dress.

"You've been partying with us like every night! And guys are always hitting on you—American and French," Ariel explained, looking pleased with and perhaps even proud of Marie.

"Yeah, I'm just having fun. We're in France, right?" Marie said confidently, leaning back in her chair. "And besides, what boys are even interested in me?"

"Uh, Marie, did you forget about Gary? Every time we go out he is like dying to pay for your drink," Ariel said. "He obviously has a huge crush on you."

"Yeah, Gary's sweet, but I don't know, I feel like there are cuter boys here."

"Gary's cute," Ariel said.

"Yeah, he's not bad," Sarah said. Then she grinned and looked at Marie. "But Marie's got her eye on Sebastian."

"Obviously," Marie said, in a way that didn't reveal whether or not Sarah's claim was true.

"Oh my god," Ariel said, sounding amused. "I could totally see that. You're so the kind of girl who likes these sexy artist types."

Marie sighed. At another time she might have tried to come back at Ariel with a playful or perhaps even a slightly hurtful remark. But today Marie felt so fine that she enjoyed this lighthearted tension, simply because it reminded her that she was alive and that she had no greater problems than squabbling over boys with her friends. She took a sip of her ice water and decided that she would savor all of those pleasant gifts she was receiving at that moment as a robust, sentient creature. The water felt wonderful as it flowed down her hot throat, and the lemon sap that was squeezed into her drink danced on her tongue like a spice. She delighted in the breeze that was fanning her shoulders and permitting her spirals of curly brown hair to graze the back of her neck.

"Wow, Ariel. You just pinned me down pretty good," Marie said, only half-jokingly.

For that half-hour of coffee, the three girls felt as though they were the owners of their little table, as though they could not have been anywhere else at that time, not unlike when one steps into a fresh hotel room and does not for an instant think that hundreds of people had stayed there previously, and that hundreds more would sleep there in the future. But soon they were splattering euros on the table and slinging leather handbags over their shoulders. By the time they had walked to the other end of the square, their table had already filled up with a family of tourists—a set of parents who were trying to get their two young sons to look carefully at the menu—and the girls' thirty minutes of dominion and leisure seemed so distant that it almost felt as though it had not even occurred at all.

They made a few jokes as they stood together on the street, and then they departed from each other. Their host families would soon be waiting for them to begin dinner.

The sun was setting, and so the boulangeries were filled with men and women eager to take a soft baguette home to put on the dinner table for their families. The street players were expanding and compressing their accordions for the last time, and from these slow and laborious movements came unexpectedly beautiful music, like the perfect words a man manages when his lungs are pumping out their final breaths. It was one of summer's last twilights, where the fireflies come out before the stars, the lights in the windows turn on one by one, and the orange glow from the sidewalk cafés seems superfluous amidst the sweeping rays of the dipping sun.

Marie turned around to yell out another joke to Ariel, who hadn't gotten too far, but then decided against it, realizing that her comment wasn't very funny. Even though Ariel was over half a block away and walking in the opposite direction, Marie could still observe her friend's sensual beauty: the unconcealed curves of her breasts, the twists of highlights in her brown hair, and the simple way her red and white dress could not cloak the sharp and harmonious contours of her body. "She is like Emily in 'The Knight's Tale,' or any of those luscious women that were always throwing themselves at Lancelot," Marie thought to herself, having just taken a summer course in Medieval Literature. "She looks like she should be frolicking in a meadow somewhere."

Marie envied Ariel when she thought of her own appearance. Yes, she knew she was cute: she had an adorable face with light freckles and the innocent smile of a child. She wore outfits that were at once conservative and sexy, and her lithe, athletic body allowed her to try on almost anything. She knew there were plenty of great catches out there who would probably be very attracted to the kind of girl she was. Just not the kinds of guys Ariel could get. For Marie recognized that her own skin wasn't tan, and that her hair was difficult to straighten. Her breasts were on the smaller side, too, and her hips were only somewhat curvy. Finally, she seemed to lack those seductive eyes, slanted at that divine angle, whose extended gaze could leave any man feeling tantalized.

But as she walked through the gentle air that hung between the row homes and the cozy bookstores and the patisseries, Marie knew that her young life would be wonderful in spite of the fact that she was perhaps a little clumsy, and that she was merely cute and not stunning or beautiful. She savored her youth, her coquettishness, the allure of her quirkiness, and maybe most of all, her uncanny ability to rapidly identify the personalities, motives, and weaknesses of others. She knew that with all of these powers, the quality of her life would equal or even surpass those of the more archetypal debutantes surrounding her. How natural it felt to her to sail past what everyone else accepted as life's unavoidable obstacles. Marie exhaled and hungered after the hollow joy that the remainder of her semester in France would bring her.

Amid her acute awareness of how much pleasure her young life contained, Marie had to acknowledge, as she had done countless times before, that she was twenty-one years old, and had only a few precious years left before her taut skin would loosen slightly and her brilliant eyes would begin to dull. Perhaps that stage wouldn't be so terrible; she would still be young then. Only twenty-five or twenty-six. Young enough to make out on the dance floor, go to house parties, wear oversized sunglasses. But what about five or ten years after that? And this was just the end of her youth. What about the end of her life? She knew that if she just kept adding in increments of five or ten years, she would eventually reach an age at which she could not possibly still be alive.

Marie turned around again to look for Ariel, but she could no longer see her. She thought some more about her lifespan. "Perhaps my late-twenties won't be so bad. I will still be attractive, I should have a husband by then. We'll sleep together in a big bed, and we will love each other. I will be starting my career and I will charm all of my older colleagues, and they will want to nurture me. In my thirties and forties, I will accumulate wealth, live comfortably, and enjoy my children. Then, my fifties and sixties. My husband and I probably won't be making love much anymore, but I will be playing tennis and golf with my girlfriends. I will go on cruises, I will study art. My seventies and eighties. I will be old. Still, though, it won't be so terrible. I will still laugh with my friends, take pleasure in the climax of a film, and get into heated debates on politics and ideas. I will play with my grandchildren, and enjoy nostalgic memories with my husband. We will still hold hands then, and tease each other as we walk our dog through the neighborhood late at night. If I am lucky, one night around this time, hopefully before the age when one has to live in a home or a hospital, I will die in my sleep—and that will be my life."

Marie continued her stroll home down rue Jardín, satisfied with the loophole she had created, and, for whatever reason, quite optimistic that her life would actually unfold in a way that adhered to the promises of her daydreams.

Chapter 7

After eating dinner with her French host mother—the daughter, a young businesswoman, was working late that night—Marie curled up in bed to read Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. About ten minutes into reading, she heard her cell phone ring. It was Ariel.

"Hey Marie!"

"Hey Arielll," Marie said, dragging out the end of her name.

"What's up?

"I'm just reading in bed."

"Cool. What are you reading?"

"The Brothers Karamazov—by Dostoevsky. It's really good."

"Oh, really? I should read it when you're done. I definitely don't read enough, and when I do I only read trashy chick novels," Ariel said with a laugh.

"Yeah, you'd probably think I'm a dork for reading it—it's very philosophical, and it's really long."

Ariel laughed but didn't say anything.

"So you're coming to Russell's party tonight, right?" Ariel asked. "We were there the other night and it was so fun."

"Yeah," Marie said. "I'll be there."

"Cool. Sarah and I are about to leave. We might just pre-game there and then go to some bar—maybe a club. I'm not really sure yet."

"Yeah, that sounds great. Oh, where does he live?"

"Um, let me check." There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. "1688 rue Glorieux. He has the whole second floor."

"Okay," Marie said. "I'm sure I'll find it."

"Okay, awesome. We'll see you soon.

"Byeee."

"Bye Marieee."

Marie read a few more pages and stood up from her bed, feeling slightly dizzy from having gotten up too fast. She slipped on a blue miniskirt and tucked into it a black tank top with a scoopneck. From her suitcase, she removed a small bottle of citrus-flavored vodka. As she took sips from it, she gazed at herself in the mirror, not to adjust anything on her face, but simply to look at herself. She stayed like that for a few minutes, entirely expressionless, staring deep into her own eyes. She brought the glass bottle to her lips and then let it fall back again.

A quarter of an hour later, Marie was clattering down the side streets of this small Mediterranean city, trying to ignore the pain as the thin, golden straps of her sandals rubbed violently against the soft skin of her feet.

Chapter 8

Marie didn't bother knocking on the door of Russell's loft. She had dialed Ariel from outside, and Ariel had told her to just come in and find them on the balcony. As she was turning the door handle, she heard music and many voices and laughter coming from inside. She walked in and took off her brown hooded sweatshirt, tossing it alongside a few jackets on a black couch with white pillows. She felt nervous as she entered, disinclined to begin socializing with hearty and confident youths, many whom she'd never even spoken to. But when she caught the scent of marijuana and burning vanilla candles, and noticed the night sky and golden lamps outside, a feeling of calm arose within her, despite the loud conversations and quick movements occurring throughout the room.

"Marie!" Ariel called from the doorway leading out to the balcony. "Come take a shot with us!"

Marie smiled and started walking toward Ariel. As she navigated the dark room, her vision aided by the screens of cell phones sending text messages and the Christmas lights outlining the ceiling, she spotted a pair of shadows kissing lovingly in one of the corners. She reached the end of the room and stepped out onto the balcony's stone floor, into the warm nighttime air.

"Hey guys," Marie said.

"Oh my god, Marie, you look so cute!" Ariel said.

"Thanks. So do you."

"Marie always looks cute," Sarah said, putting her arm around Marie.

"You guys are too much," Marie said. Everyone laughed.

"You get here okay?" Russell asked.

"Yeah, for the most part. At one point I had to ask someone for directions, and she kept saying 'tout droit, tout droit !' It took me forever to figure out that that meant 'straight,' but at least now I know what it means."

Russell chuckled. "Well, I'm really glad you were able to come."

"Yeah! That's so cool that you have your own place."

"Yeah, it's awesome."

No one spoke for a moment, then Sarah called out, "Let's get this girl drunk!"

"Yes!" Ariel cried. "Shots!"

The group took two shots of vodka together. Marie then took a tequila shot with Ariel and another one of vodka privately. Marie felt like the last one really seemed to hit her. She walked unsteadily back into the apartment and recalled the white pillows of the black sofa. She decided to return there to rest her dizzy head for a moment.

But when she began to approach the couch, she saw that Sarah and Sebastian were already occupying it. She watched as they concluded a light kiss. Sarah then moved with Sebastian as he leaned backward, so that their bodies took up a little more than two of the three cushions. They then brought their heads toward each other for another kiss. As Marie was debating whether to go back outside or sit on the hardwood chair she had spotted in the kitchen, she saw Russell walking hurriedly toward them. His cheeks were red and his forehead was perspiring. His eyes were fixed.

Russell tapped Sebastian and then, before even allowing Sebastian time to respond to the first physical gesture, gave him more of a nudge.

"Guys," Russell said. "Can you go somewhere else with that?"

"Sorry about that, man," Sebastian said. He straightened out his beige t-shirt and tousled his oily, dark brown hair. "As a fellow guy, I'm sure you understand." Sebastian grinned and, still looking at Russell, nodded his head toward Sarah. She smiled knowingly at the crowd of two or three and said nothing. The onlookers returned to what they had been doing, and Marie took a seat on the now empty couch. She then watched Sarah lead Sebastian by the hand onto the balcony and begin laughing with him as they leaned against the iron railing.

*

Russell spied Marie lying on his sofa. Her head, resting on the pillow, was tilted upward, so that the entire length of her smooth neck could be seen. He felt himself attracted to Marie, despite his preference for a girl with a more rich and sensual body. In Marie, he sensed a lack of self-esteem and what he perceived to be an appetite for sexual indulgences. He suspected that, should he take Marie to his bedroom, she would derive her greatest pleasure from pleasing him as he wished. He decided that he would move forward.

Russell knew exactly how to succeed in this situation. He had in front of him a drunk girl in a dim room whose friends had all deserted her. Not only this, but she had seemed pretty receptive earlier in the night, and she was seated on an empty couch. Normally, Russell didn't like to take advantage of drunk girls, so he decided that, were things ready to go beyond kissing, he would only proceed if he could get some kind of verbal consent from Marie that was, of course, truly genuine.

Once Russell mentally decided his course, he, loyal to his conclusions, never strayed from his original plans. Thus, he was able to walk toward Marie with a completely blank mind; he knew that he no longer needed to strategize, as all his decisions had already been made for him.

He sat down close to Marie. She turned her head.

"Sick party, huh?" Marie said with a chuckle.

But Russell just glared at her intensely. For a moment, Marie wondered if she was doing something wrong, since Russell had just chastised the last people he found sitting on his couch. But this thought didn't last long, for Russell took Marie's chin with three of his fingers, the other two hanging in the air, turned her head slowly toward his face, and kissed her noiselessly on the lips, opening his mouth narrowly so that the tips of their tongues could meet.

Marie kissed him back, briefly opening her eyes to see before her a pair of giant, bushy eyebrows, droplets of sweat, and an overall roughness that a miscellany of tiny hairs, blemishes, and indentations give to someone's face. She decided to pull away, but when Russell sensed this resistance, he gripped the back of her head and drew her more deeply into his mouth. Marie submitted to this maneuver, relaxing her muscles and moving her little fingers along the mountain of Russell's bicep. Calmly, Marie closed her eyes and let her tongue roll around with his for awhile. Though neither realized it, Russell was leaning into Marie with force, so that she was slowly inching back in her seat and lowering her shoulders toward the sofa, becoming more parallel with each second.

The moment one of Marie's feet left the ground, a flash of lucidity came over her, and she drew back from Russell's lock. She looked up at him, patted him lightly on the chest and then said, coolly, "Okay, I think that's enough," as though she had made a mistake that should have been obvious to both of them.

Marie then lifted herself to her feet, leaving Russell gazing up at her from the couch. She smiled to herself, pleased with the rather stylish way she had rejected him. She surveyed the rooms of the apartment and noticed Gary. He was in a conversation with two other guys in the corner of the kitchen. He was sipping a greenish-brown bottle of beer. He looked over at her for a few seconds, returned his attention to his friends, and then looked back at her again. Marie looked away. She thought she saw Ariel again out on the balcony. She stepped forward, wishing to go up to her, but this movement reminded her again of how drunk she really was. She felt dizzy, cold, and nauseous. She fell back onto the couch—from which Russell had already gotten up—and set her head on the throw pillow. Then she slept deeply.

Chapter 9

"Thanks for walking me home," Marie said with a yawn.

"Hey, no problem," Gary said.

He pushed open the door to Russell's building, and the two stepped outside. Within seconds, they felt drops of rain falling lightly on their faces. Marie stumbled at first as she stepped down onto the pavement, but then regained her balance and paced forward purposefully.

As black and grey clouds moved across the sky, the white moon, unimpeded by the racing wisps, draped a sheet of colorless light on the city's smoky backstreets.

"Well, now I have a chance to open my umbrella," Gary said with a grin. He shuffled toward Marie, and the two walked underneath his black umbrella, their feet and ankles cold from the puddles.

"What time is it?" Marie asked, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head.

"It's like 4:15."

"4:15? Are you serious? How did it get so late?"

"You passed out on Russell's couch."

"Why didn't anyone wake me up?" Marie asked, sounding alarmed.

"We tried. We were going to just let you sleep there, but you mumbled something about your host mom having a strict rule against sleeping out. We thought you might wake up on your own. But it finally got so late that I figured I should just wake you up and walk you home."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all. Where do you live?"

"On, uh, rue Cardinale and rue Roux-Alphéran, or however you pronounce it."

"Okay, yeah, that's not too far from me."

"Oh, okay. Good."

"So I guess you're still feeling pretty crappy, huh?" Gary asked, struggling to keep his entire body under the umbrella.

"Ummm, yeah pretty much." Marie said. "I'm still drunk—and not the good kind of drunk. And I'm cold and tired."

They walked the next several paces in silence. Gary kept trying to think of questions to ask Marie, but everything somehow seemed inappropriate. "So, what made you decide to major in history and English?" Too standard. "Why did you make out with Russell and then reject him?" Too personal. "What's your favorite color?" Too odd. Finally, Gary settled on something.

"So are you homesick at all?"

"Am I homesick?" Marie asked. The two were now emerging from an alleyway onto one of the main plazas of the town.

"Yeah. Do you miss your family?"

"Well, I wouldn't so much say that I miss my family. I guess I just miss being in a familiar environment." Marie paused. "Hey, you know, I just realized the connection between the words 'family' and 'familiar'!"

"Yeah, I guess I never realized that either," Gary said with some disappointment.

"Anyway, what I mean is that it's hard here having to make new friends, find out where everything is, and to start following all these local customs. I never thought I'd say this, but I think I might be having 'culture shock.'" She chuckled.

"I really miss my family," Gary said quickly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's weird being away from them. I have a younger brother—he just turned ten. I just feel bad not being able to be home and be a big brother to him, you know? I mean I don't see my family that much because I'm at school most of the time, but I still get home pretty often. Now I'm here for four months straight."

Marie looked up at Gary to see that he was deep in thought. His eyes were downcast, and his brow was contracted.

"Well, I'm sure your parents will take extra-good care of him since you're gone," Marie said, patting Gary gently on his upper arm.

"You mean parent," Gary responded with a faint and mocking smile.

Marie thought to herself, "Oh crap," then asked politely, "What do you mean?"

Gary paused, started to speak, and then paused again. "My dad was in the military. I was an 'army brat' growing up. Anyway, he died overseas in combat."

"I'm so sorry," Marie said. She found herself fighting back the urge to smile.

"Yeah, it's okay. Thank you. It was a long time ago. Anyway, it's just tough for my mom and I. She has a boyfriend, and I'm happy about that. I really like him, actually. But she is always working as a nurse at the hospital, and I had to spend a lot of time waiting tables to pay for this trip. Sometimes I just worry it affects my little brother—us not being there. He has a ton of friends though."

"Well, usually kids that age just want to hang out with their friends anyway," Marie said, touching Gary's arm again.

Gary seemed to brighten a little.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. He really does love his friends. Anyway, I felt a little bad leaving them for a semester, but I knew I had to take advantage of a chance to come to Europe and get this awesome experience."

The rain was beginning to feel like a sprinkle, and Gary and Marie, without realizing it, were no longer struggling so mightily to keep themselves entirely under the umbrella.

"I've been thinking about that," Marie said. "What is so important about this experience?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do you think the big deal is about being here?

"You don't think it's a big deal?"

"Well, sometimes I just feel like it doesn't really matter where you are. Things are different here, but not that much different. Maybe their cheese is slightly better and slightly stronger, but it's not like we don't have cheese in America. We have cute little shops, too, in America. We also have outdoor cafés and statues in our parks. At the end of the day, the people here are just trying to make money and support their families and pay as little taxes as possible—just like at home."

Gary chuckled. "Yeah, I see what you're saying," he said. "But, I don't know, I think at the very least you will be surprised when you get back to the States. I think that, little by little, you'll start to realize that studying abroad made you a more complete person. You will have a better understanding of culture, you won't think of America as the center of the universe anymore, and you'll have all these amazing new memories—stuff like that. It definitely helps with getting a job and stuff, too. Either way, it'd better be worth it after how much money I'm spending."

Gary grinned and gave Marie a friendly glance. He had the type of expression that one usually makes before winking—so much so that Marie was surprised, at least subconsciously, when Gary didn't wink at her just then.

Marie laughed. "Well, I hope you're right. Because I'm spending a lot of money here, too. Well, at least my parents are."

She could now see her host family's apartment building in the light of the early dawn.

They left the street to cut through a neighborhood park—already a well-known shortcut. The rain had now passed, and the early light from the sky had thrown a lavender mist across the park's leafy hills. As they walked through the park, their feet made slight depressions in the moist earth, as the narrow tips of the grass blades tickled their ankles. Marie then removed her leather sandals with the golden straps so she could feel the rich soil in between all of her toes. From there, they walked for a time without conversing. As they were approaching the edge of the park, however, Marie broke the silence and began to speak.

"Remember how when you're a little kid in school, they always do things alphabetically? You line up alphabetically, you get your snack alphabetically, they take attendance alphabetically. Well, I don't know," Marie said, trailing off. But then she regained her firmness. "My last name is 'Weltstern' so I was always at the very end of the alphabet. I was always last—for everything. And I sort of think it actually affected me somehow. I felt as though I deserved to be last, like I was somehow inferior. And then I remember I would always look at the kids whose names began with earlier letters—even 's' or 't' seemed early to me, at least they weren't at the end—and be envious of them. There was one girl named Melissa Alexander, and she would wear this pair of gloves with her initials on them—'MA.' Same first initial as mine but, because her last name was Alexander instead of Weltstern, she would always go first—or close to first—and I would always go almost at the very end. I guess there were always a few kids after me. Anyway, I'll never forget looking at her gloves one day, with those initials, and just feeling so jealous of her, and actually thinking she was, I don't know, categorically better than me."

They left the park and began crossing the street. Marie's host family's apartment building was located just across the way.

"I mean, obviously my story is nothing compared with losing a father in war and with having to support a family," she said. "But I thought I'd tell you just the same."

She sighed.

"Well, of course," Gary said. "But, I mean, I understand where you're coming from. To be last over and over again could definitely be hurtful to a little kid."

Marie nodded with glee.

They were now standing at the foot of the walkway to Marie's building, and they were facing each other. Gary looked into Marie's eyes, but she could not maintain his stare for more than one or two seconds without looking away.

"Yeah," Marie continued, filling up the silence. "Then I got my wisdom teeth out right before college, and my oral surgeon bruised a nerve in my mouth. The odds of that happening to someone my age is, like, less than one percent. It just made me feel kind of, I don't know, inferior again, like the way I did in elementary school. Like, why was I the only one of my friends who this happened to?"

"Oh, no," Gary said with concern. "He really bruised a nerve?"

"Yeah," Marie said. "Right after it happened I was pretty distraught. But now I'm basically used to it. I just have this weird, tight feeling in my gums on the lower right side. But it's not painful or anything, just uncomfortable sometimes."

"I can't even imagine," Gary said tenderly. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't worry. It hardly affects me. I just kind of have to favor one side of my mouth when I talk. Sometimes, I'll mess up and actually bite my cheek when I'm talking," she said with a giggle. "But it's really no big deal at all, I swear."

"That sucks!" Gary said. "Well, I've never noticed anything."

"Oh, it's only noticeable to me," Marie said quickly.

There was a silence, and Gary fidgeted with his umbrella.

"Yeah, I mean, as far as I can tell, you always just look great."

Gary then forced himself to lock eyes with her and hold the contact. He took a small step toward her.

"Aw, thanks, Gary," Marie said, looking up at him and then looking away. "I don't know about always. Definitely not right now."

Her face seemed so sweet to Gary. Her defeated smile, her thick curls that fell onto her cheeks, the way her eyes implored the world to come look after her, but which asked that she herself be able to nurture and give in return. He wanted to be the man who would take care of her, who would love her, who would treat her like a princess. And he wanted her to be the girl who would massage him after he had experienced a difficult day, or who would cry when he spent too much time away from her.

But Marie was hesitant about kissing Gary. She felt herself wanting to, but she had already kissed one guy that night. And as she looked at Gary, and took notice of his deferential expression, his chapped lips, and his stubbly facial hair, the thought of immediately leaving the misty weather and curling up alone in a warm bed became overwhelmingly appealing. So when he tilted his head a little to the left and moved his face slightly toward hers, she darted across the space between them to give him a hug, pressing her head firmly against his chest.

"Goodnight, Gary. Thanks for walking me home!"

"Oh! Goodnight, Marie!"

Gary turned and started on his short walk home. He was hoping as much as he could that Marie didn't see him try to go in for the kiss, and he looked up to the sky in bewilderment each time this question raced through his head.

Chapter 10

Marie woke up in her bed the next morning. She immediately pushed the bed's comforter off her body, as it was thick and weighty, and she was sweating beneath it. She reached for her cell phone on her nightstand and clicked the "end" button so the screen would light up. The time read 11:03 a.m. She quickly switched the ring setting on her phone from "silent" to "medium high."

She had made plans to meet Ariel and Sarah for lunch at one, so she decided to get up right away. Her feet were cold on the linoleum floor as she walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Because she could hear in the kitchen her host mother chattering loudly on the phone, Marie, wishing not to be noticed, slipped quietly across the hallway.

She watched herself in the mirror as she brushed, mesmerized by the white suds that her toothbrush created as she moved the bristles across the plane of her gums and teeth. Her faded eyeliner caused her to look even more tired than she already was, and the marigold tiling of the room's walls lent her face a pale and even sickly expression.

But despite the mild hangover, the need to shower, and the fatigued face that she saw in the mirror, Marie could not contain her feelings of mirth. She wasn't sick and she wasn't in physical pain—these factors alone were usually enough to make any creature content. Even more, she knew that a shower, a tall glass of water, and a fresh change of clothes would leave her body feeling lithe and peaceful, as though spring water were being tunneled through her veins.

It was also a new morning. An entire day of fun activities awaited her: a tasty lunch of french fries and sandwiches with her friends; a private stroll to the town square, where she could ponder philosophical questions and conjure up pleasant memories; some light flirting with the cute boys she and her friends could expect to run into along the way.

She set down her toothbrush and poured herself some mouthwash. As she emptied the liquid into her mouth, her cell phone began ringing from the bedroom. She returned to the room and reached for the phone. It was Ariel. Before answering, Marie rushed back to the sink to spit, ringing phone in hand.

"Hello?"

Marie heard Ariel giggle.

"Hey you little slut," Ariel then said.

Marie laughed and drew a large smile. "Why am I a slut?"

"Two words—Russ. Uhl."

Marie laughed again—this time harder. "So? All we did was kiss a little."

"That's so gross!"

"Why is that gross?"

Ariel laughed. "Because he used to date a stripper!"

"What? No he didn't."

"Weren't you there when he was telling us about her?" Ariel asked with incredulity.

"No. What'd he say?"

"It was this girl from his school or something. She was a stripper to help pay her tuition."

"Oh," Marie said.

"Can you believe that, though? He was being so annoying about it, too. He was trying to play it cool and act like all guys date strippers at one point in their lives, but it was so obvious that he was really proud of himself."

"That's funny," Marie said. She then forced a chuckle.

There was a pause.

"I also can't believe Sarah hooked up with Sebastian," Ariel said.

"I know!"

"She doesn't even like him."

"Really? Well, I guess that makes sense."

"Yeah. Trust me, I know Sarah. She likes football players. She just wanted to because she saw him making out with this French girl the night before. Oh, and you should have seen this girl. Literally, I think she was sixteen. She was the kind of girl who was only hot because she was French."

"Um, well I guess everyone kind of looks sixteen nowadays," Marie said.

Ariel made a noise that sounded like laughter. "Not everybody. So do you still want to meet us for lunch?"

"Um, yeah. For sure."

"Okay good. We were thinking we'd meet at Mon Ami at one."

"Okay. I'll see you there then," Marie said.

"Bye, Marie! Can't wait!"

"I know! Bye, Ariel."

Marie stood in the bathroom, surrounded by porcelain, mirrors, and marigold tiles. Her eyes, drawn to the most insignificant object, were fixed on the round white rug on the floor. She desired a place to rest her gaze where she would see nothing but her own thoughts. Her mind became her universe and a maroon curtain suddenly closed across the stage of her external world. She looked up at the mirror and resumed brushing her teeth but a second later her eyes had returned to the floor.

She then put the toothbrush down and walked back into her bedroom. She sat down quietly on her bed and lowered her face into her hands, her ten fingers buried into her hair. She could hear the noise of rattling dishes as her host mother worked around the kitchen, and all she wanted was for the vibrant commotion of the pulsating world to cease.

Marie then let herself fall back on the bed. She lay there for several minutes. The day's plans to which she had just looked forward with such excitement now seemed oppressive and barren. For what was the fun in munching on sandwiches or flirting with boys if fear rested in one's heart?

And yet, how very much she wished for the restoration of the cares that had been so quickly snatched from her! She wondered whether return was possible. What if there was a solution to this confounding predicament? What if her happiness was salvageable? The only way to get back to her former life was to take action—not to despair. Disarm the conundrum, and the old, gay priorities would surface once again in the forefront of her mind.

She showered and dressed with haste. She was planning on going to school first to use the internet, and she didn't want to be late for Sarah and Ariel.

Chapter 11

The night before, Marie and Gary had walked through this neighborhood park together, and Marie had dipped her feet into the rich and juicy soil of the hills. But now the land was baking in the sun, and had been all morning. Marie was walking on bristly grass and dried up dirt as she made her way through the park. On the long stretch of grass, there were already a few colorful picnic blankets laid out, and one was being unfurled right before her eyes. A pair of businessmen were lunching together on one of these blankets. They had on full suits, one khaki and the other seersucker. They were each sitting cross-legged with sandwiches in their hands, talking and laughing as they faced each other.

At the bottom of the hill was a cobblestone path that led out to the street. Oak trees and dogwood trees shaded the walkway, and many people had opted to eat their lunches in the cool, on the cast iron benches lining the path. On one of the last benches before the exit, Marie spotted a young couple—probably in their late teens—locked in a kiss and embrace. The young man, wearing a lavender t-shirt, had his left palm on his girlfriend's lap, and his right arm wrapped around her shoulder. The girl was wearing a light blue dress with a thin white leather belt around her waist. Her hands were also on her lap, lost underneath her boyfriend's palm. She then crossed her legs and moved closer to him.

Marie passed the couple and stepped out of the park. After walking a few more paces, she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She called Ariel, who picked up almost immediately.

"Hey!"

"Hey Ariel! Getting excited for lunch?"

"So excited. What's up?"

"Well, I'm on my way into town now, and I just realized that I might have left something at Russell's last night. Do you have his number? I was going to call him to see if I could come get it at some point today."

"Yeah, sure. It's, um, hold on."

"Go slow," Marie said.

"15, 17."

"Uh-huh."

"17, 76."

"Right."

"And then 89."

"Okay, got it," Marie said. "Thanks, Ariel. See you in a bit."

"Byee."

Marie drew a deep breath and punched in the numbers. Russell answered on the third ring.

"Hello?" he said. Marie was surprised at how friendly his voice was.

"Hey, Russell. It's Marie!"

"Yo... what's up."

"I, um, I think I might have left my jacket at your place."

"What does it look like?"

"It's, um, pink."

"Oh, let me check. Where'd you leave it?"

"I'm not sure exactly. Maybe on the couch?" Marie heard some rustling.

"No, I don't see it."

"Did you look under the cushions?"

Russell began to breathe more loudly into the phone.

"Yeah, just did. It's not there. Sorry."

"Oh," Marie said. The concrete road would turn to cobblestone in a few short paces; Marie knew that she was on the very fringes of town.

"Yeah, I'll look around for it. If anything turns up I'll let you know. Do you have any other idea where it might be?"

"I'm not really sure—hey Russell." A grin appeared across Marie's face. "You didn't tell me you used to date a stripper."

"Huh?"

"Ariel told me you used to have a stripper girlfriend. That's pretty cool."

"Yep. I used to date a stripper."

"Details," Marie said with a shaky voice.

"Details?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" Russell asked.

"I'm just curious!" Marie said with a quick laugh.

"Um, okay. Just this girl who went to my high school and then she became a stripper to help put herself through school."

Marie laughed loudly. "That's crazy, Russell! So when did you date exactly?"

"I don't know," Russell said, sounding annoyed. "Last summer I think." He paused. "So I'm actually kind of in a rush right now. Do you mind if I get going?"

"Oh, no, that's fine."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"Wait—will you let me know if you find my jacket?"

"Sure, I'll keep looking."

"Okay, thanks, Russell. Bye."

Marie heard a click.

By now she had almost reached her school, a nondescript parcel of the larger stone building that stretched down the entire alleyway. The school was difficult to distinguish from the adjoining properties—the doctors' offices, townhouse apartments, and law firms. Like the other structures, its sandy exterior consisted of little more than a set of arched wooden doors and a few narrow, opaque windows flanked by light green or light blue shutters. It displayed no sign. Marie punched in the appropriate code on the number pad next to the door and disappeared through the entranceway.

She walked hurriedly through the foyer and then down a flight of stairs to reach "The Cave"—a cozy alcove in the school's basement where students liked to utilize the building's wireless internet access.

When she got down to the Cave, Marie was glad to see that there were only three other students there and none whom she knew very well. Navigating her way through the room, Marie gave a couple of head nods to the other kids, and then sat down on a couch with her white Apple laptop.

She had just clicked on the Safari icon when she saw coming down the staircase the girl she'd sat next to on her transatlantic flight. Marie immediately rummaged through her bag for her headphones, plugged them into her ears, and stared with discerning eyes at her computer screen. The girl looked at Marie from far across the room, waved, looked at her for another several seconds, and then disappeared into one of the Cave's many recesses.

Marie left her "nytimes.com" homepage for "google.com." She then typed in "kissing HIV" and hit enter.

When the search results popped up, Marie felt her heart fall into the hollow of her chest. The excerpt from the first website, entitled "Kissing and HIV – The Body," read as follows: "On July 11th, 1997, the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) announced the first case of probable transmission of HIV through kissing..."

Marie clicked on the website link and began reading the article. The circumstances of transmission were quite odd. A man with gum disease whose gums frequently bled after brushing and flossing decided to "deep kiss" his wife one night before going to bed. His wife had undergone dental surgery that day. Marie felt a little reassured when she learned of these conditions. However, she was still troubled. For even though the circumstances of her kiss were benign compared with those in the article, she had still engaged in the same act that had at one time allowed for the passing of HIV from one person to another—deep kissing. She could now no longer declare herself risk-free, a declaration she had been able to make after receiving the negative results of her test at the hospital.

She scrolled further down the page. Another shudder went through her as her eyes took in these words: "Although saliva alone is a very low risk, if there is visible blood in the saliva, then the risk of transmission does exist."

Marie quickly hit the "back" button after reading this and returned to the page of search results. She clicked a few spots below the website for the CDC, this time entering a page entitled, "Can I get HIV from Kissing? Questions and Answers." She opened the link to read the following: "Open-mouth kissing is considered a very low-risk activity for the transmission of HIV. However, prolonged open-mouth kissing could damage the mouth or lips and allow HIV to pass from an infected person to a partner and then enter the body through cuts or sores in the mouth. Because of this possible risk, the CDC recommends against open-mouth kissing with an infected partner."

Again, Marie speedily backtracked to the previous page of listed websites. She scoured frantically for a website that would assuage her concern. But each new website seemed to say the same thing: though rare, HIV can be transmitted through kissing if one of the partners has blood in her mouth and the other partner has an open sore.

And what if I had a sore and he had blood in his mouth? She then ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She felt it go over two or three bumps. One of the bumps burned and felt somewhat blistery when her tongue went over it.

Marie was about to leave for the bathroom in order to inspect her mouth in front of a mirror, when she turned to the exact type of website that she had been searching for. Rather than warn, admonish, and scare, the purpose of this site was actually to comfort. An M.D., an immunologist, and the president of his own AIDS Foundation was the creator and operator of the website—a man by the name of Robert J. Frascino.

It was the forum section of Frascino's website that Marie happened to click on, and not its homepage. In the forum, Frascino gave people the opportunity to submit their queries on anything related to the virus. With just two or three clicks, Marie saw that dozens of users had asked Frascino if they could have gotten AIDS through kissing, and furthermore, whether their circumstances required that they get a test. Some had made out with strippers, some had kissed people already HIV-positive, and some had just kissed.

Frascino's responses to these frenzied folk caused Marie to laugh. She laughed not just because Frascino was funny, but also because he was making her gleeful; each reply seemed to compensate for some horrific thing she had read just a few minutes earlier on another part of the web.

"Wouldn't the entire world have HIV if it were passed through French kissing?" the doctor would pronounce, then adding: "Well, at least all of France anyway." When asked about that one documented case of transmission through deep kissing, Frascino would remind the concerned party that both partners had undergone extensive dental surgery the day of the kiss, and that, "unless you kiss like Dracula and suck pint loads of blood at the same time, you simply can't get HIV from deep kissing." When asked if deep kissing ever warranted a test, Dr. Frascino would respond with a categorical "No." Frascino even lampooned the CDC for its conservatism and neuroses, accusing them of having "their heads up their butts."

Marie could have kept reading this consoling voice, but the time showed her that Ariel and Sarah would soon be arriving for lunch. She closed her Mac, slipped it into her light brown corduroy backpack, and walked out.

Marie had returned to the streets feeling almost completely relieved. A medical doctor—an AIDS expert—had condoned deep kissing. One could even make out with HIV-positive people and remain okay. A breeze was blowing, and Marie inhaled the chilled air into her chest. How soothing the breath felt as she drew it into her body's tips and corners. She was now ready to enjoy her afternoon.

She began strolling briskly through the tortuous pathways of the town. The tall homes lining the narrow streets made it nearly impossible to predict where the sunlight would gather. But the weather was so perfect on this day that it somehow felt equally pleasant to step into the shade as it did to suddenly be hit with bursts of light and warmth. Her legs were moving with ease and grace. At certain moments, Marie noticed that she actually had a slight urge to skip! She then laughed to herself at the pointlessness of these inclinations, knowing that, so long as she was in public, these wishes would be continually denied.

The restaurant Mon Ami was still about a five or ten minute walk away. Marie hurried down the tiny street, barely wider than an alleyway, of rue Rouge, and then stepped out onto la place Cassan, a large square in the center of town. Right away, she saw that today was a market day in Faubourg.

The farmers from the country had brought their food and families to Faubourg for the day. They had lined up their stands in three long rows that ran across the square. The canopies covering each stand were as unique and irreplacable as the brown and wrinkled faces of the smiling farmers. Like the flags of different countries, no two canopies were exactly alike. The two red tents were actually maroon and cherry with a white stripe; the three green tents were turquoise, emerald, and light green with navy stars.

After stepping aside for three laughing little girls running at full speed, and a few seconds later, for a young woman running after them with arms outstretched, Marie began walking down the middle aisle. She tried to ignore the discordant sound of crates being stacked on top of each other, and of farmers shouting orders to their children and then clamoring for attention from passersby. Instead, she focused on the food. The spice table was the first to truly catch her eye. The spices were being displayed in wide, shallow, coverless bowls that were positioned on the table with perfect economy. The layout of the bowls inevitably left open spaces on the table; these were filled with tall bottles of olive oil. Each flavoring looked like a miniature sand dune, a small mountain of densely packed dust. The colors of the spices were generally various shades of brown, dark orange, and dark yellow, and only the farmer or his child could distinguish the nutmeg from the cinnamon.

Her eyes were next attracted toward a table overflowing with vegetables. However, it was not the vegetables themselves that originally caught her attention, but the pots of sunflowers interspersed throughout the cornucopia. These tall flowers, with fuzzy brown centers and dozens of bright yellow petals, were the stand's neon lights. It seemed as though the farmer had arranged the vegetables by the smoothness and sleekness of their coats. The first row was all peppers—green, red, and yellow—and in certain spots their shiny skin reproduced the sunrays coming down from overhead. The more muted vegetables sat on the second row—onions, cucumbers, eggplant, zucchini, and oversized tomatoes. These were bright, but for whatever reason, nowhere near as bright as the peppers. The highest row was carrots, radishes, lettuce heads, and potatoes, tumbling onto each other, hanging over the edge, and bereft of all luminosity.

Marie then spotted a fruit stand. She decided she wanted an apple. Having this little bit of food in her stomach would dissuade her from loading up on french fries at lunch. Moreover, the small purchase of an apple would allow her to partake in the bazaar. She would now no longer be a spectator, but an active participant, and this title would stay with her, essentially, forever.

She hurried past the cheese table on her way to the fruit stand, slowing down for just a moment to eye the spread of cheeses, and then picking up her pace again. How cheerless and drab these crusty, crumbling cheeses looked amid this whirlwind of color. In fact, these cheeses would have seemed dreary almost anywhere. In fairness, a few of the cheeses were a rich white or yellow in color, with smooth faces and sharp edges. But the majority were formed out of a brown crust that was rocky and rough. Many of these crusts had green and white blotches that occasionally seeped onto the cheese itself. After she passed the table, she caught a whiff of the panoply of cheese. She was hit by a sour, stale, and milky smell. This odor was not putrid, but off-putting to the point that for a brief moment Marie questioned whether she in fact loved cheese as much as she had always claimed to.

The farmer had his back to Marie as she approached the fruit stand. He appeared to be weighing kiwis one by one on an electric scale. Marie reached into one of the wooden crates and picked up a shiny red apple. She gripped it with her thumb and index finger and held it at eye level. She was studying it.

The farmer turned around and noticed Marie.

"Bonjour," he said, somewhat inquisitively.

"Bonjour," Marie responded. She continued to study and inspect the apple. "Combien pour la pomme ?"

"Un euro, s'il vous plaît."

She looked at the apple and then put it back in its crate. She picked up a banana.

"Et combien pour la banane ?"

"Un euro aussi, mademoiselle."

Marie handed him the coin.

"Merci !" he said, in an almost sing-song voice.

Marie turned to leave. "Merci beaucoup," she said over her shoulder. After she said this, she felt her top and bottom right molar clamp down on her inner cheek. She immediately pulled her teeth apart and released the lock, but the flesh had been torn. The skin felt rippled as she brought her tongue over it, and it burned to the touch. She then spit into her palm and noticed a few tiny swirls of blood mixed in with her saliva.

She suddenly felt as though she were walking underwater, as though viscous fluid were dripping into the muscles of her arms and legs. It was a warm day in late August, and she felt cold, as one feels with a fever underneath piles of blankets and quilts. Every pore of her skin became hypersensitive, so that she actually noticed the way her skirt grazed against her thighs, and the way her t-shirt clung to her back and shoulders.

Dr. Frascino's claim that people can't get HIV through kissing might not apply to you. You have an abnormal nerve. You bite your mouth an excessive amount because you favor one side of your mouth when you talk!

She was now entirely aloof as she strolled. She didn't question why one of the shops she passed donned an American flag out front, or why a boy of about eleven was sipping a Heineken in front of the bureau de poste. To her, all of the pedestrians had the same unformed face, and the bustling tabacs and cafés were vacant. Only the Monoprix came into focus, at which point she realized that she was on rue Gihon, and just a block away from the plaza where she would be meeting Ariel and Sarah for lunch.

You are an anomaly. Dr. Frascino's reassurance might not apply to you!

She was swallowing rapidly. Her limbs were feeling heavier and heavier as her heart raced to fill them with blood.

"Okay, I need to calm myself down if I am going to be eating a leisurely lunch with these two girls," Marie told herself. "I will completely embarrass myself if I am acting distant and despairing when I go over there. Just put your thoughts to the side for the next hour so you don't make a fool of yourself, and then you can come back to them later. You know you're not going to be very good company if you start thinking about this while you're sitting there."

Sarah and Ariel were seated at a little aluminum table at a crowded outdoor café. Everyone in the town seemed to have come out to delight in the warm weather. Dogs were sitting beside their owners at the café tables, their long pink tongues rolling out of their mouths and then curling upward at the bottom. Champagne glasses were clinking together and frizzing and frothing with renewed energy. A homeless gentleman was making a business of ambling up to tables of seated customers and playing to them his accordion. As he serenaded, his eyes were closed and his ebullient smile was unceasing. Another homeless man was playing guitar out of a small amplifier, causing a shimmering blend of jazz and flamenco to wash over the square.

Sarah and Ariel were laughing loudly at the table. Ariel was laughing so hard that she had to put her face in her hands. It was not until Marie stood directly before the table that they noticed her. Her legs felt like two Doric columns.

"Oh, hey Marie!" Ariel said. "Where did you come from? We didn't even see you walking up."

"Yeah, well, it's pretty crowded out here today," Marie said.

"That's a cute shirt," Sarah said. Marie was wearing a miniature pink t-shirt that had "Vandelay Industries" across the front in silver letters.

Marie looked down at her shirt. "Yeah, it's kind of sweaty now, huh."

Ariel and Sarah did not respond, but simply continued looking up at Marie and smiling.

"Yeah, it's from Seinfeld," Marie added, taking her seat.

"Oh my god, I love Seinfeld!" Ariel exclaimed. "I watch it with my dad all the time. We both love Kramer."

Sarah nodded in a way that made it almost certain that Kramer was her favorite character too.

"Yeah, George is my favorite," Marie said. Then her eyes narrowed, and she glared at Ariel, smiling nervously. "I just think it's so funny how he lies about everything just to impress people or get himself out of tight spots. That's why I got this shirt."

Ariel's smile dissipated slightly as her face became confused.

"Oh yeah, I know what you mean," she said.

"Because, you know, 'Vandelay Industries' is one of George's made-up companies."

"Oh, is it? I don't think I saw that episode," Ariel said.

"I think I saw that one," Sarah said.

"It was actually a lot of episodes—"

Just then the waiter came over. He signaled with a nod of his head toward his notepad that he wished to take their orders.

"S'il vous plaît, je prends le panini au poulet grillé, poivron, aubergine et mozarelle." Ariel said.

"D'accord," the waiter said.

"Eh, pour moi, la salade de calamars," Sarah said.

"Et pour vous ?" the waiter asked Marie.

"Do you know what you want yet, Marie?" Ariel asked.

"Ah... je pense... oui," Marie said. "Le sandwich parisien, sans le jambon, s'il vous plaît."

"Quoi ?"

"Pas la viande. Le sandwich parisien, mais... je suis une végétarienne."

"Ah, végétarienne, d'accord. Pas de problème."

Marie watched as the waiter wrote down her order.

"Merci, madame," he then said, and hurried to a nearby table.

Marie settled back in her chair, her muscles loosening and her breaths becoming more deep and expansive. She was wondering if the girls had heard her last comment and chosen to disregard it, or if the waiter's coming had simply distracted them and they had forgotten in the skirmish her insignificant words. She was also rethinking in general her decision to broach the obscure Seinfeld reference. She did not realize this, but as she pondered different subjects, the paralyzing thoughts of the late morning were migrating out of her brain. Marie eased back in her chair. She began to feel that unconscious joy of being alive nourishing her body once more. When the waiter returned to the table with their food, Marie flirted a little with him in French.

"Pourquoi est le fromage français meilleur que le fromage américaín ?" she asked him with a giggle. He smiled and gave an answer in French that she couldn't really understand.

But after he left and the conversation resumed, Ariel made a comment that quickly returned Marie to that dark place from before.

"So how about Marie and Russell last night?"

Marie felt her blood turn to lava. Her pleasurable respite had been revoked, and she did not know when the next one would come to grace her, or if it would ever come. Still, she knew she couldn't just sit there and stare at the ground in despair, nor could she begin to panic like a child. Not in front of these girls, anyway. And so she not only suppressed these feelings of doom, but also contested them by adopting an eerily joyful and deferential demeanor. She forced herself to smile broadly at Sarah, the corners of her mouth slicing like knives into her taut cheeks.

"I know, that's so crazy you guys hooked up," Sarah said as she struggled to fit a full piece of lettuce into her mouth. "Do you like him?"

"No, definitely not," Marie said emphatically. "I pushed him away after like thirty seconds."

"It was so much longer than that!" Ariel cried.

Marie swallowed and prepared for her limbs to become even heavier.

"Yeah, well, it's France, right?" Marie said. But Sarah and Ariel only half-grinned at this remark. Marie threw a few french fries on her sandwich and took a small bite. She then smiled. "Anyway, guys who date strippers aren't really my type."

"Yes!" Sarah cried with great excitement, her eyes becoming wide for a moment. "He dated a stripper! I totally forgot about that. What a crazy kid."

"Yeah, she was putting herself through school or something, right?"

Sarah laughed. "Yeah, I think so."

"Guess she couldn't have been too bad then, right? You know, if she was a college student and all. It's not like she was a prostitute from the ghetto or something."

Sarah laughed again and dabbed gently at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "I guess not. I'm not really sure."

There was a brief pause.

"We should go to that club tonight," Ariel said.

"I know," Sarah said. "I can't believe we haven't been there yet. Some people last night were saying it's pretty legit."

Marie knew she was sitting at a crowded café in the center of Faubourg, and that two twenty-year old girls were having lunch with her. And yet, she felt as though only she existed, and that what surrounded her was little more than a giant façade of color and sound and characters. For in between every sip of ice water, after every forced laugh and pause, the thought entered her mind: What are you going to do about the fact that, unless you get tested, for years you are never going to be completely sure that you didn't contract AIDS last night? With these reflections, her mind became her entire world, causing all of the vibrancy and vitality of her environment to appear distilled and inconsequential. Fortunately, because Marie had been interacting with people for many years, she had the ability to act like a ventriloquist on her body. She thus forced herself to adhere to all social conventions despite her apathetic and dejected internal state.

She looked at Sarah and Ariel with envy. She abhorred their beauty, their vivaciousness, and, more than anything else, their ability to enjoy life the way it was meant to be enjoyed. She focused on their smiles and how they slid gently into their soft and malleable cheeks. She realized, however, that she had not spoken for over a minute, and that if she continued with this silence, Sarah and Ariel might start to think that she was weird and introverted, or that she was distressed about something. She decided that she'd better say something, and fast.

"You know what you two remind me of?" she began. "Do you ever read, like, Medieval Literature? You are like those 'fair maidens' that are always out frolicking in the springtime, and who the knights are always courting and fighting over. You just epitomize youth and beauty and, I don't know, naïveté. You're like Guinevere or, I don't know, Isolde."

Ariel and Sarah exchanged glances and, at the exact same time, began to laugh together. Then Sarah rolled her eyes a little in a way that made her look annoyed but good-naturedly so.

"I don't know," Marie continued. "That's just who you guys remind me of I guess. I've always thought that, ever since I met you. It's a compliment! I read a lot, so I always try to match people up with characters in my books."

The waiter then returned with the bill. He laid it on the table and began collecting the dishes.

"Oh, I know what you mean," Ariel said. "I know this isn't really the same thing but one time I went on a few dates with this guy who reminded me so much of Jim from The Office. He actually said he got that all the time."

"Well, thanks for the compliment, Marie," Sarah said, a few seconds after Ariel had spoken. "That's so sweet that you think we're pretty. I think you're a lot prettier, though."

Marie leaned forward, beaming at Sarah's compliment. She tried to make eye contact with Sarah, but Sarah was looking in the distance and seemed to have no intention of returning her gaze to the table.

"I think if we each put in fifteen that should cover it," Ariel said, studying the bill and leaving her share on the table. "I should actually get going though. I told my host mom I'd go shopping with her today. But it's been such a fun lunch, guys!" She then stood up to leave and draped her leather handbag over her shoulder in one motion.

"Oh, actually I think I want to come now," Sarah said cheerfully.

"What happened to the Laundromat?"

"I'll just go there tomorrow or something."

"Okay, awesome!" Ariel said. "Now it won't be awkward!"

Sarah stood up as well, and now both girls were looking down at Marie, who was still seated at the table.

"Do you want to come too?" Ariel asked Marie.

"Nah, you guys go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to take a nap actually."

"I love naps," Sarah said.

"Me too," Marie said, squinting as she tried to gaze up at them.

Ariel sighed. She looked off longingly in the direction she would soon be taking. "Well, call us later, okay?"

"Sure, I can do that."

"Okay, bye Marie!" Ariel said, and turned to leave.

"Have a good day," Sarah said. She stood before Marie and gave her a quick wave. She then turned to follow Ariel, who was already several steps ahead of her.

"Bye guys! Have fun!" Marie cried from the table.

Chapter 12

"Mr. Williamson?" Marie said as she tapped lightly on the office door. The door was already partially open; Marie was just knocking to be polite. Ben Williamson was sitting behind his desk and was talking to someone on the phone. He motioned to Marie to come in and sit down, and then made a gesture that signaled he would be getting off the phone shortly.

"And Mom, I'm buying you a baguette today to bring home with me," Ben said into the phone, sounding excited. "Okay, okay, fine. I'll get it on the way to the airport." He laughed and slowly lowered his head toward his desk. "Okay, bye Mom. I love you."

Ben quietly set down the receiver and looked up at Marie.

"Whew. Moms. Gotta love'em, right?"

Marie grinned and nodded.

"That thing at the end is a little joke we have. The first time I came to France I brought Mom back a bottle of wine, some cheese, and I even bought a baguette right before I got on the plane. It was still decently fresh by the time I got back to the States nine hours later. Now she always jokes about it whenever we are getting off the phone with each other. It's really cute."

"Aww. That is cute," Marie said.

"Yep," Ben said, leaning back in his leather swivel chair. "So what's up? What's going on? And, I'm so sorry. I know I met you at orientation, but I think I've forgotten your name."

"I'm Marie—"

"I thought so."

"And, Mr. Williamson—"

"Marie! Please. Call me Ben."

"And, Ben, I actually have something sort of serious to talk to you about, if that's alright," Marie said, crossing her arms and huddling forward.

"Sure, sure. Hey, Marie, that's what I'm here for," Ben said. He got up, closed the door, and sat back down in his chair.

"So what's going on?"

"Well, I'm just having a lot of anxiety," Marie said quietly. She glanced up briefly at Ben and smiled out of nervousness.

"Marie, of course you are! That is a very normal response to being in a new culture, living with a new family, speaking a different language." Curiously, Ben especially emphasized this last factor.

"Yeah, I know. Well, I was just wondering if there is maybe someone I can talk to, you know?"

"Well, we actually do have a psychologist that we refer students to."

"You do?" Marie said. Her eyes were wide and beaming.

"Yes. She's a native English speaker, so you don't have to worry about that. And she's been very helpful to a lot of students."

"Oh. So other students go too then?"

Ben smiled. "Yes, Marie. For many students adjusting to a new culture is really difficult and they get a little anxious about everything. Some people get really homesick. Some struggle in their classes having to learn a new format."

Ben leaned forward on his desk, his elbows outstretched. He stared at Marie for a few moments, his eyebrows raised and his smile encouraging. Marie didn't speak.

"So, I'll give you her phone number and you can set something up with her. Her name is Diana."

"Oh, that's perfect."

"Great."

Ben wrote Diana's number on a small piece of paper and moved it across the desk to Marie.

"Thank you so much," Marie said, then adding, "Ben." She stood up from her chair and reached down for her handbag.

"Not a problem. Also, before you go, I'll just need you to fill out a quick information sheet where you can check off why you came to see me and how I was able to help you. It's just for our records and upper management and all that fun stuff.

"So, here," Ben said, standing up and handing Marie a clipboard with a few pieces of paper attached. "You can fill this out in the little lobby area outside. Fill out the top, and then just check off the box that says 'difficulties with mood and/or anxiety.' I know there are a lot of those boxes. Yours, I think is about fifteen down from the top, right under 'problems with host family' and above 'difficulty digesting certain new foods.' And, if you could, just leave it in my box when you're done."

Marie beamed at Ben. "Okay, thank you so much for meeting with me. It was so nice of you."

"No problem, Marie. Glad to be of help."

Chapter 13

Diana provided counseling services out of her apartment. Marie had made an appointment with her and was navigating her way through a series of narrow streets to get there. On her walk, she noticed on the corner a crêpe stand being tended by an Asian woman of medium build. The woman was sprinkling coconut pieces on the simmering, pancake-shaped batter. Nutella was already smeared across the top, and the coconut flakes fell and sank deep into the rich chocolate, so that the two became forever inseparable. A young French girl was waiting in front of the counter for her crêpe and a group of her friends was standing just a few feet away from her. The girls were wearing tight charcoal jeans, and all had on black Converse sneakers. Their pale, frowning faces peaked out of their black cotton pea coats, and their eyes, covered in eye shadow and bothered by the bright sun beating down overhead, were downcast. How strange it was that these morose, fashionable, naturally beautiful art students seemed at once so out of place and so at home in Southern France's lilac and sunlit world.

Marie turned and continued on. The next street was lined with clothing stores. Their expansive glass windows invited one to peer inside, but it was often difficult to look past the parade of mannequins as they posed along the front. She thought that this street seemed oddly calm for such a busy time of day. But then, as though her silent observations needed to be disproved, two pesky motor scooters which seemed to come from nowhere zipped down the road. In the entranceway to one of the stores, a small dog beside his owner—both of whom Marie had not even noticed—began yapping at the scooters incessantly, even long after they had left this street for another.

The idea of a tasty crêpe and some light shopping appealed to Marie. But she didn't stop because she didn't want to be late for Diana. This appointment was very important to her.

"Diana will tell me whether or not I should get a test," she thought, "and then I can at last put this problem behind me and go back to enjoying my precious few months in France. Thank God there are people like this, whose job it is to solve the exact type of problem I'm having."

It was now late September, and she would be returning home at the end of the semester in mid-December. As summer turned to fall, and Marie was forced to put away her flip-flops and summer dresses, she became painfully aware that the time to live and experience Europe was growing short.

She admitted to herself what she hoped Diana would tell her: that this whole matter was really quite simple. First, there was no way she had gotten HIV from a kiss, and second, she certainly would not need to go get another test. She really didn't want to go back to that testing place, where people walked out with death sentences as a matter of routine.

But surely Diana wouldn't tell her much less. After all, weren't psychologists supposed to tell you to face your fears and live your life in spite of small—in this case, infinitesimally small—risks? Marie smiled. "When Diana hears this story, she's just going to laugh herself right out of the office."

As Marie turned the corner onto Diana's street, she saw Sebastian about twenty feet away from her walking up the other side. Marie always hated these situations. She never knew if she should look straight ahead, smile and wave, or actually stop and make conversation. She felt pretty comfortable with Sebastian. Sometimes they walked out of class together, she had run into him a few times when she was out with her friends. And they did do some light bonding over that icebreaker game that Professor Butler had them all play at the beginning of the semester. She decided that it would be okay to go up to him. Besides, he was really cute, and he was an artist. So she approached him, her face imploring, her gait friendly. However, Sebastian truly did not notice her, and would have walked right past her had she not called out his name once she could tell that there would be no chance of his recognizing her.

"Oh, hey Marie!" Sebastian said. He was smiling enormously. "Didn't see ya there."

"Hey Sebastian. What's up?"

"I'm just running to the store to buy some art supplies."

Sebastian was wearing light blue jeans that fit tightly around his long legs. He had on a navy zip-up hooded sweatshirt, and was wearing a maroon scarf around his neck. Marie loved how dimples formed in his cheeks and his eyes wrinkled up every time he smiled.

"Oh, that's cool. Who's your favorite artist?" Marie asked.

Sebastian yawned and looked away. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I like a lot of the early 20th century artists," he said.

"Yeah, but who's your favorite?"

Sebastian thought to himself for a moment. "I guess I'd have to say Vermeer. Not 20th century obviously."

"Oh, the Dutch guy?"

"Yeah."

"What's so great about him?"

"Just his use of light is incredible."

"Oh," Marie said. She scratched her neck and looked at the ground. Neither said anything for a few seconds.

"So where you headed?" he asked. He then made eye contact with Marie. "Want to grab a coffee or something?"

"Oh, I can't now. I have to go..." Marie hesitated and then smiled with embarrassment, aware that her reaction to this simple question made it seem like she was hiding something. "Somewhere else."

Sebastian chuckled. "Okay..."

"To a psychologist."

"Oh, that's cool. Is everything alright?" Sebastian asked.

Marie turned red. "Yeah, I'm totally fine." She paused. "It's kind of like, you know how we've been reading Notes from Underground for class? Sometimes I sort of feel like the Underground Man. Like I just can't make a decision, you know?"

"Well, I'm sure this psychologist will help you," Sebastian said. "That's why they have psychologists, right?"

Marie smiled and exhaled at the same time. "I sure hope so," she said.

"I'm sure I've felt that way before, too," Sebastian continued. "I think everybody has."

"Thanks, Sebastian. That means a lot. Really." She looked up at him, as though her expression would demonstrate her gratitude. "But, yeah, it's no big deal. Anyway, would you want to grab a drink later tonight?"

"I actually can't tonight," Sebastian said.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I'm going to be in the studio all night." He began to slightly turn his feet and body away from her.

"Okay," Marie said. "Some other time then, if you want."

"Sure. Maybe a bunch of us can go out. Let me get your number."

Marie gave it to him.

"Okay, see you soon."

"Bye Sebastian!"

They both started walking away from each other.

Marie turned around to watch Sebastian as he was leaving her. A tempting fantasy warmed her mind. She and Sebastian were sitting on a cozy couch in a small apartment, lights off and jasmine candles lit. Sebastian was holding her and they were laughing blissfully. She saw herself giggling so hard that Sebastian had to stroke her hair tenderly to calm her down. He then closed his eyes and gave her a prolonged kiss on the cheek. They would talk to each other about art and music, about history and great works of literature. She would tell Sebastian all of her problems, and he would gaze at her and chuckle and smile knowingly. "That's what you're worried about?" he would ask. Then he'd turn her around and lean his head over her shoulder and wrap his arms across her chest. He would then pull her in so tightly that she'd feel like she was snuggling under the covers on a snowy morning.

Marie checked the time on her cell phone. It was two minutes past her scheduled appointment time. She hurried down the alleyway, scanning the numbers above the wooden doors for Diana's address.

Chapter 14

Marie walked up a few concrete steps to reach the entrance of Diana's building. Before her loomed a set of large, dark green doors. Their mass was so great that Marie felt slightly burdened simply by virtue of looking at them. Diana's name was penciled in on a beige paper card sealed behind thick plastic. Marie pushed the black button next to the nametag. Soon, a loud buzzer rang, and she pressed on the door, trusting that she would now find it unlocked. She entered the foyer—a pale, heavy room with a few opaque windows. The slick marble tiles felt particularly pleasant on her feet, which had spent so long trotting the brittle pavement.

Marie could see Diana standing in the doorway of her apartment. She appeared as a half silhouette, the light from her room glowing behind her like a hearth.

"Marie?" She said. Her voice fluttered across the expanse.

"Hiii. Diana?"

"Yes," Diana said, with excitement and warmth. It seemed to Marie as though Diana already understood all of her troubles and had the proper antidote just behind that very door.

"Well, you don't have to keep standing there. Come on in!"

Marie plodded up the stairs and walked into Diana's apartment.

"It's just on your left where we'll be talking," Diana said.

"Where should I sit?" Marie asked. There were two black leather armchairs in the center of the room directed toward a fluffy white sofa off to the side. Diana's desk was located in the corner. On it hummed a silver Macintosh laptop, its pearly apple hovering and glowing.

Marie observed the room's silky and feathery décor. In the corner, she spotted some kind of machine that pumped out a soothing mist every fifteen seconds or so. Giant white pillows sat on each side of the couch, and white candles in black iron holders lined the windowsill. A round silver rug rested on the mahogany floor. And in the center of the floor—in front of the two chairs—sat a doggy bed. It seemed to be made of a soft, fleece-like material. The color of the fabric was royal purple, and a big pink heart had been stitched in the center—the place, indeed, where the dog was supposed to plant his body. The dog, however, a ball of soft white fluff very much resembling the cloth of the sofa, was plopped down on the rug about a foot away from his actual bed.

"You can sit wherever you want."

Marie looked back and forth several times between the couch and the armchairs, before at last sitting down on the couch. As her back molded into the cushion, she felt as though its folds were creeping on her skin like spiders.

Diana noticed Marie looking at her dog.

"Have you met Max?"

Marie looked up at Diana. She seemed to be about forty years old. Crinkly, curly auburn hair sprung from her scalp and exploded around her head, finally becoming tamed and orderly as it approached her shoulder line. She had on circular, thick-rimmed glasses. Over her black cotton blouse, she wore a maroon scarf and a charcoal button-up sweater.

"Yeah. He's cute."

"Thanks! I just got him. He's a puppy."

"So cute," Marie reiterated, with affection in her voice.

Diana turned one of the armchairs so it was facing the couch more directly and took her seat. When she sat down, Marie inched backward in her seat and discreetly squeezed the pillow to her side.

"Okay, Marie. I am going to get serious now if that's okay with you."

Marie smiled meekly and nodded her head.

"Tell me. Why are you here?"

This question gave Marie great pleasure. "Finally, the chance to tell my story," she thought. "And to a professional!"

"Well, I'm really not sure what to do about getting an AIDS test."

Diana nodded, in a way that made it seem as though she had heard this opening countless times before.

"You see, I've already been tested for AIDS once before."

"Okay. Go on."

"Well, it was from this guy I'd been dating at my college. We had dated for maybe six months, and I had been giving him oral sex. Anyway, we broke up a little over a year ago—at the start of my sophomore year. He was a really sweet kid. He was white and affluent, so I knew he didn't actually have AIDS or anything. But, on and off for the past year—mostly 'off'—I just couldn't get the thought that I might have gotten AIDS from him out of my mind. Like, there was always that minute chance, you know? So I came here, and all of the other students in my program seemed to be having such a great time, and I was, I don't know, just stuck worrying. So I got a test, actually, when I first got here, so I could have fun the way everyone else was. Now, I know it was really neurotic for me to do that, but—"

"Well, wait, " Diana interrupted. "I don't think there is anything wrong with getting tested for oral sex or for unprotected sex—whatever. HIV can be transmitted that way you know."

"Right. Yes, I know, of course," Marie said. "And we always used condoms for regular sex, obviously."

"Okay, that's good. Continue."

"So, here comes the story that's actually crazy. Just recently, I made out with this guy at a party. And, it's so embarrassing, but now I am starting to worry again! From a kiss!" Marie said, her eyes focused on the vacant doggy bed. "I mean, I'm not actually worried about getting the disease. It's basically impossible to get it through kissing. Also, there's no way the person I kissed even has AIDS. Again, he is white and affluent and heterosexual. But on the other hand, he used to date a stripper and seems pretty sexually active otherwise. The problem is that I'm pretty sure it can be years before you will start showing symptoms. So it's not like getting the flu or something where you find out right away. And I'm just trying to enjoy myself here in France, and I just keep thinking, 'Maybe I should get tested for HIV so I would worry less and enjoy myself more.' Like, if I knew for sure that I didn't have it, then I would be able to have a better time because I wouldn't have this nagging voice inside my head. I could just relax and enjoy life."

At that instant, Diana and Marie went to speak at the same time. Realizing that the other was trying to say something, both let out quick laughs.

"Go ahead," Diana said. She was leaning forward, so that her elbows fell onto the middle of her thighs.

"Are you sure?" Marie asked.

"Yes. Please."

"Okay, so the real reason I'm worried is that I went on the internet, and the CDC says that you shouldn't engage in 'deep kissing' with anyone who has AIDS or who you think might have AIDS. So, it's like at any given moment of the day, I just start thinking about how I disobeyed the CDC—supposedly the supreme authority on these matters.

"But then I went on another website, where this really credible doctor said that deep kissing is fine. People who actually have HIV write to him, and he tells them that they can deep kiss with people and not worry about giving them AIDS. But here's the thing. I have some nerve damage in my mouth from when I got my wisdom teeth out—

"Oh, you do?"

"Yeah," Marie said.

"I'm so sorry. That's really too bad."

Diana seemed genuinely sympathetic as she peered at Marie through her glasses.

"Oh, that's no big deal compared to what I'm going through now. So anyway, because I slightly favor one side of my mouth when I talk, I probably bite my mouth and tongue more frequently than normal people do. I mean, it's not like my mouth is constantly bleeding, but every few days or so I will take a hard bite out of my cheek or tongue."

"Marie, why is this important?"

"Because when this doctor—whom I completely trust—says it's okay to deep kiss, he is probably only referring to people who bite their mouth or tongue a normal amount of times, like once a month—not once every few days. And I don't remember if I had bitten my tongue or cheek the night I made out with this guy, or even if I had bitten it earlier that day or the day before. I checked in the mirror the next day and there were definitely some mild abrasions, and perhaps that's being generous. In other words, I can't be sure. But that doesn't even matter, in a way. What matters is that this doctor might not have given this consent to kiss to people who have this abnormality that I have."

"I'm confused," Diana said. "Why don't you want to get a test? If you're pretty sure it will come back negative, which I'm certain it will, then what's the harm?"

"Oh, right," said Marie, relieved to hear that Diana didn't think she had AIDS, but at the same time, very fearful that Diana seemed open to the idea of further testing. "Well, first of all, I hate going to the hospital and going through that whole process. And second, this will now be my second test after I just had my first test less than a month ago, and I don't want to just be getting tested my whole life, you know? Getting tested will just be feeding into this fear and making the fear even stronger. So while now I'm worried about kissing, I could go get a negative test, and be back a few weeks later because, I don't know, I ate ketchup at a restaurant and worried that the cook had cut his finger and some blood had fallen into the ketchup."

"Oh, I see."

"So I just get tons of anxiety whenever I start debating this question inside my head. I just keep analyzing which choice—getting a test or not getting a test—will ultimately be better for my overall quality of life. And I just can't make a decision!"

Marie released a deep breath.

"So I was hoping that you could help me make that decision," Marie said. She was looking into Diana's eyes beseechingly.

"Well, I guess it depends on how much of a possibility it is," Diana said. "I don't really have enough information. If it can be spread that way, then..."

"But it's not a possibility! It's only been transmitted through deep kissing once! And both people had tons of blood in their mouth that day!"

"Well, then there's your answer. Don't get a test."

But it was too late. Diana was clearly to some extent in favor of the idea of getting tested. Now, even if Diana advised her not to get a test, she would still be left with the lingering suspicion that Diana believed deep down that a test would be in her best interests, or perhaps, even worse, that it was warranted.

"Thanks a lot," Marie said, crossing her arms and legs and staring at the floor.

"What did I say?" Diana asked.

"You just said I should get a test."

"Well, at first I was thinking it might make you feel better—I don't think you have AIDS—but now that I think about it more, I don't think you should get one."

Marie was silent.

"Okay, Marie?"

Marie kept silent.

"Marie—what's wrong?"

Marie struggled to speak. She didn't want Diana to know that she was close to crying.

"It's just that now I don't know what I'm going to do!" she said. "I don't want to get tested, but now you, a psychologist, a professional, just told me I need one!"

"Marie!" Diana yelled. "I don't think you should get tested. Okay?"

"But you already said I should! I can't just forget that now."

"Marie, I really don't think you should get a test. Let's just leave it at that, okay?"

Marie sniffled and briefly rubbed her forearm against her nose.

"Now, is there anything else you want to talk about? Are you having any other problems? Maybe there's other stuff going on that's contributing to the anxiety you're having."

"No, I really don't think there's anything else. I think it's just this. I just really want to know for sure that I don't have HIV so I can go back to enjoying France!" she said.

Diana sighed, picking Max up from the floor and placing him in her lap. She leaned back in her chair.

"Well, Marie, life isn't perfect. Maybe you will have to live your life only being 99% sure that you don't have AIDS. Maybe you will only have a 99% good time in France instead of a 100% one."

"I guess that's a good point," Marie said. She tried to form a smile, though her mouth was constrained by the tightened muscles inside her cheeks.

"So are you feeling better now, sweetheart?" Diana asked.

"Yeah. Well, I guess."

"My god, Marie. What's wrong now?"

"It's nothing, Diana."

"Come on. What is it?"

"Do you have a PhD?" Marie asked, who again had her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Excuse me?"

"I was just wondering what your background was like. Because, you see, I'm putting a lot of faith in you—"

"I can see that!"

"And I just want to make sure—"

"Okay, I see." Diana leaned back in her chair and brushed some of the curls away from her face. "I have a master's degree. I'm from California, where I had my own practice for twenty years. And I specialize in families and relationships."

"Oh, okay," Marie said with a weak grin.

"Is that okay with you, Marie?" Diana asked, staring at Marie through her glasses.

"Yes, that's fine."

"Okay, great! Well, I think our time is just about up, actually."

"Okay."

"So in between sessions, I think it'd be good for you to take some time each day to do something artistic or something creative. I realize this isn't much now, but we'll work on some more strategies in future sessions. And next time I want to show you some deep breathing exercises."

"Sure, Diana, I can do that!" Marie said.

"Great." Diana smiled and gently placed Max back on the floor. "So each session is fifty euros."

"Right, right, sure. I'm sorry. I almost forgot."

Diana watched Marie's hands as she fished the money out of her bag. Marie handed her the colorful bills. She then got up and began maneuvering toward the entranceway.

"Okay, I'll see you next week, Marie!"

"Bye Diana! See you next week!"

Marie left the apartment and walked through the foyer to reach the exit. As she opened the front door, a woman was standing on the front steps with her arms full. She was somehow carrying two grocery bags in one hand and a baby in the other. And two little ones were tugging at her jeans. Marie moved aside to let her pass.

"Pouvez-vous m'aider, s'il vous plaît?" the mother asked.

"Eh, je ne comprends pas," Marie said.

"Some help, yes?"

"Sure. Of course! I mean, bien sûr !"

Marie took the two brown paper bags and followed the mother up one flight of stairs to her apartment. The mother entered the apartment first and disappeared down a hallway with the baby in her arms. When she returned, she headed straight for one of the kitchen cabinets. She pulled out a first aid kit, set it on the counter, then picked up her son and set him too on the counter. She brought her face very close to her son's knee to inspect his bloody scrape. At that moment, Marie began rummaging through her bag to pull out her cell phone and check the time. It was 5:03 p.m. When she looked up again, the mother was applying a bandage to the boy's knee. Her face displayed supreme focus and compassion. Marie could tell that at that moment, she was thinking of nothing besides fixing her son's knee.

"I'm sure that this woman's got way too much stuff on her plate to even think about the ridiculous things that go through my head," Marie thought longingly. But her reflection here was cut short.

The mother turned to Marie.

"Merci, mademoiselle." The mother was displaying a look that at once expressed her gratitude and her wish for privacy.

"Je vous en prie," Marie said. She turned and walked down the stairs and out of the building, her feet hitting hard on the concrete steps outside.

She tore down the street feeling light in her body. Her anxiety had faded. Her legs no longer felt heavy and warm as she approached an incline, and the cloth of her shirt felt soft on her back. Cool water was running through her veins again. But she had walked only a block when all of her thoughts returned. She doesn't even have a PhD? Did you see those fluffy pillows and that fluffy dog? She can't be very intelligent. And she wasn't completely opposed to my getting a test! Maybe I should just get tested.

Marie's thoughts continued like this for the rest of her long walk home, and the physical feeling of dread once again took over her body.

Chapter 15

Marie sat outside the hospital, watching people enter and exit through the automatic sliding doors.

"After struggling to walk past this hospital every day on my way to school, I am finally here," she thought. She felt as though the entire world were watching her at this moment to see what she would do. Would she free herself of this burden for the time being and weaken her ability to forego HIV tests in the future? Or would she return to her room, anxiety crawling across her back, and potentially spend the rest of her trip in France—not to mention the years to come—wondering, first, if Russell has HIV, and second, if he had blood in his mouth when he kissed her and she had a sizeable cut.

"Just go in there and get tested," she finally concluded. "You've come this far. You'll feel better."

She got up and entered the hospital through the sliding doors. It was the same woman from last time sitting at the circular desk in the lobby. Marie pointed straight ahead to signal to the clerk that she knew where she was going.

She opened the door to the testing center and quickly signed in. After taking her seat, she saw that there was only one other person in the room—a man probably in his late twenties. The man was wearing a tight jean jacket, a solid black t-shirt, and tight grey jeans. His head was completely shaved. His ears and his left eyebrow were pierced. Colorful tattoos spread across his forearms. Marie peered down at her own body, at her pale, freckled arms with well-placed, thin brown and white hairs. She was wearing a Hamilton College zip-up hooded sweatshirt that her parents had bought her at Family Weekend last school year, and an old yellow t-shirt from her high school science fair. Her silver bracelet, a sweet sixteen present from her late grandmother, gleamed underneath the overhead lights. Marie sighed. "What am I doing here?" she thought to herself.

A door opened.

"Marie Weltstern?" a woman in turquoise scrubs called out, her head buried in her clipboard.

Marie's hand shot up. The woman beckoned to her, and Marie disappeared through the open door.

She was directed to the room where she would be tested, and sure enough, the same nurse from last time was sitting behind the desk. When she saw that Marie was the next patient, her face brightened and her eyes squinted with excitement.

"C'est vous !"

"Oui," Marie said lethargically. "C'est moi."

"Pourquoi êtes-vous revenue ici ?"

"En anglais, s'il vous plaît ?" Marie asked. She knew that the nurse spoke decent enough English.

"Why are you here again?" the nurse asked, her eyes growing large as she peered at Marie.

"Take a guess," Marie said.

"Ah, oui," the nurse said. "Pour un autre test VIH !"

"Oui, exactement."

"Oh, Marie. Mais... but you were just here!"

"I know. But something happened recently—"

"Recently?"

"Yes..."

"When?"

"Il y a cinq semaines je pense."

"Il y a cinq semaines ? Cinq semaines ?"

"Oui."

"Marie, you need wait three months before you get VIH test."

"Three months—why?"

"Because it could be a, how does one say, false negative before three months."

"Oh," Marie said

"Is this okay to you?"

"Oh, yes. It's fine. It's just that, well, I didn't realize."

"Yes," the nurse said. "You will not be the first girl or boy to do this error."

The nurse smiled and began typing on her computer. Several seconds later, she looked over at Marie and appeared surprised that she hadn't left yet.

"So if you need the test, you come back seven weeks' time, and I test you. It's good?"

"Yes," Marie sighed. "It's good. I guess I'll get going then." She turned toward the door.

"Okay, au revoir, Marie ! À bientôt !"

"Bye," Marie said. "See you soon."

After Marie left the infectious diseases wing, she walked through a series of corridors, observing the way the hanging fluorescent lights appeared like little white suns on the coated floors. The reflections moved with her as she walked, but at a slower pace, so that she was able to catch up with and pass each one of them.

She at last reached the oversized elevator at the end of one of the corridors. The elevator doors slid apart. She hoped she would find the elevator unoccupied, but she was disappointed: before her appeared a white-haired woman wearing a hospital gown. The elderly woman was hunched over her walker. Marie stepped into the elevator. She went to press the button for the ground floor, but discovered that it was already brightly lit. She lifted up her finger to press the button anyway, then decided against the superfluous action, and inched into the elevator's back corner.

The elderly woman struggled to look over her left shoulder at Marie. When she saw Marie, she smiled, her eyes narrowing.

"Bonjour," Marie said quietly, sensing that this woman wanted to engage in some sort of dialogue.

"Ah, vous êtes américaine. I speak English, you know. What is a beautiful girl like you doing in a place such as this?" She then tilted her head forward and coughed into her hand, which she had quickly made into a fist.

At this moment the elevator reached the ground floor and the doors moved apart. Marie hoped that the change of scenery would allow her to evade the woman's questions. However, the woman's fixed and curious stare held Marie in her place.

"I had to get a meningitis shot," Marie said.

"Ah, okay," the woman said, nodding her head several times.

The two left the elevator together. Marie walked slowly so as not to leave the old woman in the dust.

"Well, I am glad to hear it is nothing serious," the woman said.

"And why are you here?" Marie asked.

The woman let out a chuckle, and then her face grew stern. "Cancer. I have stomach cancer."

"Oh. I am so sorry."

"That is okay," the woman said. "It is a miserable disease, but I am getting good treatment for it. And my doctors are magnificent. But I hope you have never to experience it. But what can I say but, 'c'est la vie.'" She smiled brightly, and Marie smiled back. Then the woman stared at Marie. It appeared as though she were trying to discern in Marie's face whether she had conveyed herself effectively to the girl. "I was a nurse at a hospital in Nantes during the War, and I have lived many years and I have witnessed many illnesses in my friends and in my family. What I mean to say is, I have unfortunately seen much worse, believe it or not."

She sighed.

Marie did not speak. The woman looked at a large digital clock attached to one of the walls. Then she smiled.

"I am sorry for telling you such sad things. You are such a beautiful young girl."

"Oh, that's okay! Thank you!"

"You shouldn't have to hear such troubling things," the woman said, almost in self-chastisement. "But I am realizing now that my grandchildren will be visiting me in fifteen minutes! So I will return to my room now."

"Well, it was really nice meeting you."

The woman nodded her head at Marie and slowly turned her walker to move down the hallway in the other direction.

For a few moments, Marie watched the elderly woman as she inched down the corridor. Then Marie shuffled her feet toward the exit and left the hospital to emerge into the overcast afternoon.

Chapter 16

"I hope you all remembered your sunscreen."

Professor Butler stood before his students at the foot of the mountain. They were standing so close to the mountain that its heights could not be seen, and it felt more like they were about to begin a hike through a hilly forest. A dirt path stretched out behind the professor, and became lost as it turned to the left about twenty yards ahead. Thick ivy lined the pathway and grew out into a sea of evergreens, brooms, and cypresses. Marie watched him from the back of the group of students, her view partially blocked first by a pair of broad shoulders and later on the brim of a baseball cap. It was now November, and she had another two weeks before she could go get her AIDS test. She still had not decided what she would do.

"As you might expect, the sun is especially strong as you move closer to it. I know it feels cool out, but when you're hiking, temperature doesn't matter—all that matters is the sun, and it won't be so shady once we get higher up. The school has provided me with all of the first aid supplies that you could possibly need on this hike. We have inhalers if anyone gets winded, ointment if someone gets a rash—this happened once a few years ago. And I have all of the important phone numbers if there is any other sort of emergency or issue. Do not for a moment hesitate to speak up if anything is wrong. And we have extra sunscreen if you forgot to bring yours, but there's only a limited amount."

Professor Butler took a drink from his thermos and eyed the dirt for a moment before looking back up. "Okay, we're almost ready to start the hike. Remember to drink plenty of water and be careful walking on the rocky terrain."

Professor Butler paused and checked his watch. He looked back and forth between his students.

"Has everyone gotten to know each other? We have two of my classes here today, in case you didn't notice. Don't worry, I won't make you play the 'name game' again."

He laughed briefly along with a few other students.

"Okay, so here we are at la Montagne Sainte-Défaite. First, I must say that when we get to the landing, you will have the most magnificent view of the countryside. But most importantly, Cezanne came once to Faubourg, and he painted this mountain. His depiction, his rendering of it, now hangs in the Musée d'Orsay—my personal favorite of the European art collections. I have always been a sucker for the impressionists, because to me, the impressionists captured reality as it really appears. When we look at things, we see them as a blur. We are not able to focus on so many different people and colors at once. This is why the impressionists were right to reject realism. In fact, the term 'impressionist' was originally a derogatory label: the art critics of the 19th century lambasted artists like Monet and Manet and Degas, because they could only create an 'impression' of reality—they weren't good enough to do the real thing. Oh, critics..." Professor Butler shook his head in amusement and kicked a red-orange pebble by his left foot.

"Anyway, getting back to the mountain, this is a panorama that everyone should see at some point in their lives—it is that beautiful. So when you get to the top—well, not the actual top, it's really more of a landing—savor every moment, because the odds are that you won't be coming back here again anytime soon. Does anyone have any questions?"

Professor Butler looked out at his two classes.

"Alright, then. You'll have some time to take pictures at the top, and then I've prepared for you, in the spirit of the trip, a lecture on the great French Renaissance mind—Montaigne."

Butler adjusted his khaki visor and pulled on the straps of his backpack.

"Okay, I guess that's it," he said. "Let's start hiking."

The collection of students immediately broke off into sets of twos, threes, fours. One of the less attractive groups consisted of two heavyset girls and one skinny girl with a hooked nose and pockmarked skin. The skinny girl and one of the heavyset girls were wearing black North Face jackets. The other heavyset girl simply wore a grey hooded sweatshirt with "University of Delaware" written across the front. Every few seconds the three girls would stop. Two of them would pose and the third would take a digital picture. This order rotated, with some variations, as they moved up the mountain. Ahead, a lanky male with red hair was engaging Professor Butler in serious conversation. There were also a couple of stragglers who, aside from making occasional talk with their neighbors, were mainly walking by themselves. These loners snapped their cameras purely of the landscapes but never of people or of some combination of the two.

Marie let herself fall to the back of the line of hikers as they moved up the mountain. She observed that Ariel and Sarah were strolling with two other girls from the program—Morgan and Danielle. Marie had hung out with them once when they were out, but she didn't have any classes with them. Morgan was wearing a pink North Face jacket and jeans with rhinestones and studs stitched onto the back pockets. Danielle had on a tight-fitting, plaid jacket with a hood, and black leggings tucked into black suede boots. Marie took notice of the girls' hair as the four walked together in a row. Each girl had vibrant, silky, radiant hair. Indeed, their hair, bouncing as they as they strolled, truly looked softer than silk. But because Morgan was a redhead, her dark red hair, tied in a ponytail, stood out from the rest. Even Ariel's highlights, which at the right angle seemed to flash like lightning bolts, were not as eye-catching.

Gary and Russell were walking just behind them. At that moment, Marie watched Russell reach his hand underneath Danielle's jacket and squeeze the softest part of her flesh. Danielle jumped in surprise and gave Russell a large and flirtatious smile. She then used both of her hands to slap his chest a few times, squealing out excitedly, "Russell, you are so mean!"

Marie felt her legs turn into large canisters of blood. Right before her eyes, Russell was cementing his pedigree as a Don Juan. She walked some more. She considered approaching Sarah and Ariel and walking with them. The other kids would probably perceive her as gloomy or anti-social for walking by herself at the back of the line. She looked around for a person traveling alone and spotted Sebastian walking about ten yards ahead of the four girls. He was wearing charcoal, slender jeans and a blue long-sleeve shirt. Marie stealthily snuck past Ariel and Sarah's group on her way to Sebastian. She tapped him on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Hey Sebastian!"

Sebastian turned.

"Hey Marie! How's it going?"

"Pretty good. And you?"

"Can't complain."

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Sebastian seemed content to just enjoy the mountain's air and scenery in silence. Marie searched for something to say.

"So what's your favorite book?"

"My favorite book?" Sebastian asked, repeating the question. "Probably Steppenwolf. That or On the Road."

Marie laughed. "You would say that."

"What do you mean?" Sebastian asked.

"Well, it just goes with your style and everything. You know... you are sort of rebellious and you dress kind of retro."

"I guess..." Sebastian responded.

"Have you ever read The Stranger?" Marie asked.

"Yeah. Awesome book."

"Oh my god! I love The Stranger!" Marie said. Sebastian grinned and said nothing. "Why did you think it was awesome?"

"I don't know. I just liked the way it was written. Also, the main character was just a total badass."

"I know," Marie said. "Meursault was so hot. I would totally do him." She laughed.

"Really?" Sebastian asked with noticeable curiosity.

"Yeah! Do you remember the scene where he and his girlfriend are swimming together? For some reason, I just remember being so turned on when I was reading that scene. Like so turned on. I can't explain it."

"Yeah, there was a lot of sexual tension in that scene now that you mention it."

"Definitely!"

Sebastian then stared at her, a look of boyishness and mischief appearing in his eyes.

"So, other than fictional characters, what else turns you on?"

*

"Try not to get too jealous," Russell said to Gary.

"What?"

Russell pointed to Marie and Sebastian, who were walking about twenty paces ahead of them.

"Yeah," Gary said. "I saw that. Hey, there's no shame in being beaten by the best, right?" Russell laughed. "There's nothing happening there. Don't worry."

"Yeah, I know," Gary said.

"You know I never would have hooked up with her if I had known. Not that you can call what I did really 'hooking up.'"

"Yeah, well, you didn't know, so whatever," Gary said. His face then turned serious. "Yeah, for some reason I really like her. I know she might seem kind of weird and quirky, but I just see something really special in her—I can't explain it. I'm going to make a move soon though."

Russell nodded his head. "You should."

They walked in silence for a few paces.

"You've got to come with me to Paris over fall break," Russell said. "I'm meeting one of my boys there. I think I told you about him—Chris."

"Oh, yeah, I'd be up for that," Gary said. "Where is Chris studying again? He's in your frat, right?"

"Yeah. He's studying in Barcelona actually. Great guy—you'll love him."

"That's awesome," Gary said.

"Yeah. It'll be cheap, too. Chris knows a couple guys from his high school who are studying abroad in Paris who live right outside the city. They said we could stay with them for two nights, but then they have other people coming in. And then we'll just get a hostel for the rest of the time. But yeah, two free nights. How sweet is that?"

"That's awesome, man," Gary said. "I'm all about things being free. I'm sure it'll be a great time."

"All those girls are going to be there, too. Ariel and all them. I'm going to try to arrange it so we can stay in their hostel."

"Is Marie gonna be there?"

"Yeah, man. I assume so. Perfect time to make your move."

Russell suddenly stopped walking. He took out his camera and, peering carefully through the lense, snapped a picture of the mountainside. He then tried to view the resulting image, but the glare from the sun shrouded the details of the shot. Russell cupped his hands over the rectangular screen and once again attempted to glimpse it.

"I can't really tell how it came out," he said. He slid his camera back into his pocket and looked at Gary. "You want to wander off the path a little and take a rest? I've got enough left from last night to pack a bowl, and I really don't feel like listening to a lecture on Montaigne right now."

Gary looked up to see that the group was slowly migrating away from them. He turned around. There was no one behind them.

"Sure," Gary said. "I'm not going to have any though." He began following Russell into the woods, and the two eventually sat down together on a silver rock.

*

Professor Butler turned around and stood to face his students. They started gathering around him.

"Okay, as you can see, we have reached the lookout of la montagne. You have five minutes for pictures, and then I want you all to meet back here for the lecture."

Sebastian turned toward Marie. "Want to take a picture of me overlooking the valley?"

"Sure," Marie said. Sebastian browsed the terrain. The students were still concentrated around the entranceway; it would take several minutes before they'd be evenly dispersed across the rocky landing. "Let's go over there where there aren't as many people," he said.

"Okay!"

As they neared the ledge, Sebastian spotted out of the corner of his eye Marie's dangling hand. He discreetly dried his palm a few times on his jeans and then reached for her fingers. The gesture startled Marie at first, but she then grew excited, and held onto Sebastian's hand tightly. Her entire body began to feel warmed and electrified from the feeling of a man's hand, with its iron bones, its squishy veins, and its hardened muscles.

They reached the ledge just a few paces later. Sebastian suddenly released his hand and turned to face her. His face had assumed an expression of profound seriousness. Marie had been grinning, but now her smile appeared to dissolve.

"Marie." He reached down and gently lifted her chin upward a little. "I've been wanting to do this from the first time I saw you."

Marie prepared to let herself be kissed. But suddenly, it felt to her as though a large barrel of black and slippery oil were being spilled across a flowerbed.

Only two more weeks until you can get tested.

She pulled away with fright. "I'm sorry, Sebastian."

They stared at each other for just a short moment before Marie squinted her eyes, frowned her lips, and let out a disturbing, unnatural though immediately recognizable wincing noise.

"I'm sorry!"

Marie quickly turned away from him, rubbed at her eyes, and began jogging toward the trail that led down the mountain. For a long time she went unnoticed, but there was a group of girls chatting near the entranceway that she'd have to brush past. She tried to make herself inconspicuous, but the girls heard her muted sobs and followed her with their eyes as she maneuvered past them. She then disappeared from their sight as she slowly descended the steep path leading down from the landing.

Meanwhile, Sebastian had sat down on the dirt a few feet from where he and Marie once stood. He had watched Marie disappear down the steep pathway and he was now observing the large group of girls preparing to trek after her. Sebastian had his legs stretched outward, and, to support his reclining back, had planted his hands on the ground behind him. He had on his face an expression that mixed indifference, confusion, and amusement. "What a nut," he thought to himself.

Marie was sitting on a bench about a quarter of the way down the slope when Sarah, Ariel, and the rest of the girls reached her. She had not stopped crying.

"What's wrong, Marie?" Sarah asked. "Weren't you with Sebastian?"

Marie didn't answer at first, continuing to sob. "Yes," she eventually said.

"Did something happen?" Sarah asked.

"No. Nothing. It's not about him."

"Then what is it, Marie?" Ariel asked. "Are you homesick?"

"No."

"Family problems?"

"No!"

"Maybe it's the altitude!" a girl cried from the crowd.

Marie removed her hands from her forehead and allowed her eyes to drift back and forth across the row of girls standing before her. She could not believe the concerned and compassionate expressions on their faces.

"How can their view of the world be so simplistic and so childlike?" she asked herself. "Why must the glow of optimism lie behind each of their worrying faces? Why do they think that with just a few hugs, a few adages, and a few kind words, all of my problems—all of the world's problems—will be solved?"

Then, out of either curiosity or condescension or loneliness, Marie decided to tell the girls what was really bothering her.

She smiled, glancing up for a moment, and then staring blankly at her feet.

"You guys are going to laugh if I tell you."

As Marie said these words, she immediately regretted her decision to disclose her secret.

"What is it, Marie?" Sarah asked. She sat down on the bench beside her and began to rub her back soothingly. "It's okay. You can tell us."

Sarah's hand felt so good on her back that Marie no longer wanted to upset the girls by presenting them with a problem about which they had never once in their lives needed to give advice. And yet, the warmth of Sarah's gesture left Marie so stirred and so vulnerable that she suddenly found herself wanting to pour out her heart to these girls, to tell them everything.

"This is going to sound really crazy."

Her voice was shaking as she spoke.

"It's okay. You can tell us," Sarah said quietly, continuing to massage Marie's back with her palm.

Marie paused. She began to feel very afraid.

"Well, actually," she said slowly. "Maybe I shouldn't. It's too embarrassing." She then released a long breath and wiped at her nose with her wrist and the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, guys. Let's just forget about it, okay?"

Sarah and Ariel looked at each other, and then back at Marie.

"Well, we are always here for you if you need us," Ariel said.

"Of course we are," Sarah said. She then gave Marie a hug from the side, and Ariel leaned down and joined this embrace.

The other girls of the group began to gravitate away from the bench, so that soon it was only Ariel and Sarah who remained with Marie. Professor Butler could be seen ambling down the mountain in the near distance. He appeared concerned, and a crowd of the girls gathered around him to explain to him the situation to the extent they could. As they spoke, he nodded solemnly, repeatedly looking over their shoulders to glance in Marie's direction.

Sarah and Ariel were now escorting Marie to the bottom of the mountain, their arms wrapped around her slender waist.

"I know the perfect thing that will cheer you up," Sarah said. She waited for Marie's inquiry. "Well, don't you want to know what it is?"

"Of course. Tell me."

"We're planning a trip to Paris for our fall break. We're going with Danielle and Morgan."

"Oh cool! I don't think I've really talked to them much yet. I'd like to get to know them better though."

"Yeah. They've been at Russell's the last few times. If you would come out more, you would know that," Sarah said, feigning in jest a tone and look of disapproval. "They're really nice. Also, Russell and his friend from college are going to be in Paris while we're there! We're going to meet up with them."

"Apparently Russell's friend is awesome to party with," Ariel added. "You have to come with us."

"Do you think you'll be in the mood to party though?" Sarah asked in a worried tone.

"Yes, of course I will. Especially with you guys. Thanks for inviting me! You guys are so nice."

### Part II

Chapter 17

Marie was sitting on a bench in the Jardín des Tuileries. She was watching with a half-smile as her friends—Sarah, Ariel, Danielle, and Morgan—were taking pictures of each other in front of marble mythological statues around a large pond. The girls were having fun imitating the poses of the sculptures before the clicking cameras. As Marie watched them playing in the sun, even though the weather was getting colder, she couldn't help but be reminded of those lusty and fair maidens of medieval times, frolicking and singing in the lush meadows of springtime.

Not too long after the incident at la Montagne Saint-Défaite, Marie had made a promise to herself to not get tested. Her desire to view herself as fully cleansed had prevented her from kissing one of the cutest boys in the entire study abroad program, and kissing cute boys was her greatest desire of all, even greater than her desire to view herself as fully cleansed. Even to her, this reasoning didn't quite make sense. Simply, the unnaturalness of the aborted mountaintop kiss told her that there was something almost vile about this quest she was on.

But Marie knew the worthlessness of a promise to herself on a matter such as this. So while the three-month anniversary had passed two days ago, and she had so far resisted the temptation to go into the hospital, the anxiety was becoming unbearable. Every time Marie saw a street sign that said l'hôpital—and there were many of these throughout Paris—her legs and arms turned to concrete. The voice that tempted her to seek relief never seemed to cease. End this now, Marie! You can just go get a simple test and you won't ever have to think about this horrible stuff again! But at certain times the voice became particularly difficult to ignore: When their café table erupted in laughter and she squeezed every muscle in her face to form a smile; when a giggly Morgan cheered "you only live once!" upon ordering a second gâteau Opéra; when she saw that Ariel had entitled her latest Facebook photo album, "my life is a movie..scratch that..its better."

"Marie! Come take pictures with us!" Ariel said. She walked toward the bench.

"That's okay, Ariel. I'm actually still a little hungover from last night," Marie said with a chuckle.

Ariel laughed. "Are you sure? Come on—you look so pretty in that outfit."

Marie was wearing blue stretch jeans and a turquoise plaid shirt with chest pockets.

"Nah, that's okay. But thanks anyway!"

Ariel sat down beside Marie. She gave her a mischievous look.

"You're not still bummed about Sebastian are you?"

"Ariel! That was like two weeks ago. I really don't care at all anymore."

"I know, but you were pretty embarrassed. And don't worry, I didn't tell Sarah what you told me."

Ariel seemed to want to talk about it, so Marie decided that she would entertain her friend. "I'm used to being embarrassed," she said. "I don't know. That conversation I had with him afterwards is still kind of stuck in my mind. He probably referred to me as his 'friend,' like, a dozen times."

"I hate that!" Ariel said in frustration.

"Yeah. It was like, 'Okay, Sebastian. I get it already.'"

Ariel pushed her hair over her ears with her fingertips. "It just doesn't make sense to me," she said. "He obviously wanted to kiss you that day..."

Marie sighed. "Well, clearly when I jogged away in tears it freaked him out a little. I guess the next time I have garlic breath I'll just kiss the guy and hope for the best."

Ariel laughed loudly and gave Marie a playful tap. "You're hilarious," she said, as though there were few things of which she was less sure.

"Yeah. What I would do to go back in time and not eat that really gross slice of pizza before the hike," Marie said.

"I'll bet," Ariel said.

"Yeah." Marie paused. "Anyway, the thing is," she began, "I actually generally don't get hung up on guys."

"Well, that's good. Wish I could say the same."

Marie looked at Ariel for a second and then looked away.

"Yeah, I tend to worry about pretty weird stuff, actually. Not normal stuff like 'guys,' you know?"

"Yeah," Ariel said with enthusiasm, and then more languidly: "Right."

"Like sometimes I'll worry—" Marie began, and then stopped herself. She saw that Ariel's face, looking straight ahead, had suddenly grown eager and animated.

"Yeah!" Ariel cried as she continued to stare. "Whoo!"

Marie turned her head to see what Ariel was looking at. Sarah, Danielle, and Morgan had rolled up their pant legs and were slowly stepping into the pond.

"Oh my god," Ariel said giddily. "Their feet must be so cold."

A young man in a suit was standing a few feet outside the pond. He was holding the girls' digital cameras and tapping his right foot with irregularity as the girls prepared themselves for the picture. They put their arms around each other and leaned in, and the man snapped a shot with each of the three cameras.

"They don't seem like their feet are cold," Marie said. Ariel didn't say anything, but continued to gaze in mild wonder.

Danielle, Sarah, and Morgan stepped out of the pond, and thanked the young man as they put their shoes back on. They then began approaching the bench.

"Whoo!" Ariel cheered again, cupping her hands around her mouth.

"Whose idea was that?" Marie asked once the girls were within a few yards of her.

"It was mine," Danielle said. "Wanted to do something kind of crazy." She sighed.

"Are you feeling better from last night, Marie?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, a little actually." Marie said. "I just drank way too much." The girls all let out quick laughter.

"So are you guys ready to go into the Louvre and see The Mona Lisa?" Morgan asked with excitement.

"Yeah, let's go!" Sarah said. "Ever since I read The Da Vinci Code I've been dying to see this museum and The Mona Lisa. Also, there's another really famous Leonardo da Vinci painting right nearby, but I can't remember what it's called."

"The Madonna of the Rocks," Marie said, standing up from the bench as the girls began to walk. "It's called The Madonna of the Rocks."

"I love how you know this stuff!" Ariel said.

"Marie, can you tell us anything about this museum we're going to see? About any of the art or the history? You're always reading that book on Romanesque architecture," Morgan said.

"Well, do you guys know what is so significant about Renaissance painting?"

"They figured out the laws of perspective, right?" Danielle said.

"Yeah!" Marie exclaimed. "Do you want to take the lead on this one?"

Danielle laughed. "Nah, that's like all I remember about it. I just know that their paintings look really 3-D compared to earlier art."

"Exactly. Before the Renaissance, painters didn't know how to draw three-dimensionally. They could imitate three-dimensions, but it wasn't until the Renaissance that they applied mathematical formulas to their works, so that the proportions between objects in a painting were identical to the way the eye views the proportions between two objects in real life. Let me think what else I can tell you... Oh yeah! Also, the painters of the Italian Renaissance were masters at depicting human anatomy. Look at the way Raphael drew hands compared to Giotto's hands and you will see what I mean. You can see all of this stuff inside!"

"Yeah, I think I remember that too," Danielle said.

"How do you guys know all this stuff?" Morgan asked with some displeasure.

"I took one of those art history intro classes Freshman year," Danielle said.

"I just read a lot, and I'm an art history minor," Marie said.

"That's so cool, Marie," Sarah said. "I love art. History—not so much."

Marie laughed. "Well, you really can't have one without the other."

She noticed that her body had relaxed slightly after trying to educate her friends. Her legs now felt light as she strolled through the park alongside the other girls. She had been so focused on properly communicating the ideas of the Renaissance that she had, if only for a second, forgotten about HIV tests.

"What about this garden we're in?" Ariel asked. "This is pretty famous, too, right?"

"It is," Marie said. "It's the Jardín de Tuileries. I'm actually not sure why it's so famous—just that it was built to complement the Louvre. Oh wait! I'll bet it's one of the places in my 1,000 Places to See Before You Die book. I think I have it in my bag." She quickly brought her bag in front of her chest to begin scouring through her stuff, but then froze right as her fingers clasped the zipper.

"Oh crap," she said. "I definitely left it at the hostel."

"Aw, well you can tell us about it later," Morgan said. "I really want to learn about it. I love learning new things."

Marie opened her bag anyway to look, but gave up her search within seconds.

"Yeah, tell us later, Marie," Sarah said.

"Sure," Marie said. "But let me know if you want to know more about the Renaissance. I love talking about that stuff."

The girls continued down the garden's sandy white path, moving out of the way for cyclists and groups of tourists, and occasionally passing panini counters and souvenir stands.

They were soon preparing to walk under the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, out of the Jardín des Tuileries and into the Palais du Louvre. The autumn trees thinned and disappeared from the students' peripheries, which now struggled to contain the expanse of the ancient castle that seemed to grow wider with each step. The gallery was flooded with sunlight, and the girls were nearly shadowless as they paced the slick concrete. Their eyes flew along the titanic colonnades, bouncing like pinballs off of the dozens of sculptures, pediments, and façades. Surrounded by three smaller pyramids, nestled between the long and jutting arms of the palace, indeed in the middle of it all, sat the Pyramide du Louvre, its metal panes and glass rhombuses no less placid underneath the strong light. As the girls were walking up to the pyramid, they passed the equestrian statue, cast in lead, of Louis XIV—the only other structure on the plaza other than the pyramid. The old king on his horse seemed to be at once escorting the visitors into his palace and regretfully giving his blessing to the controversial piece of modern architecture now heralding a structure once known for its incorruptible majesty.

"Oh my god. This is so beautiful," Sarah said, fishing through her bag for her camera.

"Now I know why everyone raves about Paris," Ariel commented. She snapped a picture.

"I think we just go in through the pyramid," Morgan said. The line outside the entranceway moved quickly, so that in just minutes the five girls were descending a series of escalators to the museum's bustling lobby.

Chapter 18

Gary and Russell had just ordered two Bud Lights at the bar when the five girls walked in. While Marie looked friendly in her purple dress, black leggings, and golden flats, the attire of the other four girls was enough to send a slight tremor through every diffident guy in the bar. Everything about these intimidating debutantes seemed to be delicately shimmering: their violet and glossy lips; the folds of their black satin dresses; the light as it hit their bronze shoulders; even the shadows as they crept and flickered across the thin bones that led from the upper chest to the neck.

A bass-driven techno song was pumping through the speakers set up beside the dance floor. As the girls snaked their way through the crowded room, some of them made a few lighthearted dance moves—a fist pump, a shoulder turn—until they all finally sat down on high stools at an elevated circular table. Before they even had a chance to take their coats off, six or seven guys with slick hair, track jackets, and dark skin—North Africans, perhaps—had already swarmed around their table, wedging themselves in between the narrow spaces that separated the girls. Marie and her friends looked over their shoulders and smiled meekly at the excited men, but then resumed talking only with each other, avoiding eye contact with the foreigners while still sensing their exhalations on their ears and napes. Gary and Russell watched as one of the guys left the table and hurried breathlessly to the bar counter, returning just a few minutes later to the table holding a tray of about two dozen shots.

"That girl Danielle is so hot," Russell said, his back against the bar. "Man. The things I would do to that girl. Her rack is unbelievable."

"Yeah," Gary said. "Really can't argue with you there."

"She's got the kind of body that, in like ten years, won't look so great. Too thick, you know? But right now she's fucking hot. She's got the best tits in the program, hands down." He drank some more of his beer. "Are you ready to go over there yet and say hi? I told them we were coming."

"Give me a few more minutes," Gary said, turning away from the girls. "Let me get a little more drunk. I don't want to talk to Marie with all those guys around her."

Russell groaned. "Hurry up, man. The whole reason we didn't go out with Chris and his high school buddies was because you wanted to see Marie."

Gary gulped down his beer until only a thin layer of foam appeared at the bottom. He then ordered another.

A middle-aged English tourist standing next to Russell had begun questioning him on American politics. Gary, glad to see that Russell was distracted, peered carefully through the crowd of men around the girls' table and focused on Marie. The guys standing behind her were directing her attention away from the table. He watched her clink shot glasses with the man lingering over right shoulder and then giggle as the man whispered into her ear. They took the shot together. When they finished, Gary noticed the man slip his arm over Marie's shoulders and pull her close to him in a congratulatory way.

Gary turned to face the bar. He clutched his bottle and brought it to his lips. His chest and lungs felt so constricted that the beer seemed to stop at the very top of his stomach as he drank it down his throat.

When Gary looked back at Marie about thirty seconds later, he saw that the man was pouring her another glass. The man leaned toward the table as he poured and once again put his arm around her. She burst out laughing when he did this and then looked up at him and smiled.

Gary calmly set his beer down and, without saying a word to Russell, walked straight to the bar's exit. He shoved open the heavy wooden door with a push that made his palms hurt. As he stepped outside, he was immediately hit with a gust of cold air, and with a defiant expression on his face, he lifted his head up into the wind. Suddenly, Russell came smashing out of the doors.

"Gary!" he cried. "Gary! Wait!"

Gary turned around.

"Dude, why are you leaving?"

"Fuck this," Gary said.

"What?"

Gary looked down at his feet and then glanced back up at Russell.

"I just can't stand seeing Marie with other guys like that, man. I really think I might love her. And she probably doesn't even like me. Right now I just want to go to the hostel and sleep."

Russell took a step toward him.

"You're not serious, are you? Come on. It'll be a good time here."

"Thanks, but I just can't do it tonight. You know me. When my mind's made up, my mind's made up."

"Just come back in, dude."

"Forget it, man. I'll see you later, don't worry about it."

"Okay," Russell said, as though he realized just as well as Gary that any further attempt at persuasion would be useless. "Well, they said the room would be ready by six, so you should be fine."

"Yeah," Gary said without emotion.

"Well," Russell said. He paused. "Do you mind if I stick around? Chris said he might come here later with his high school buddies."

"No, it's cool."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. You go have fun."

"Alright, cool, thanks. And don't worry about Marie. Things will work out with you guys. And if not, I mean, there's not exactly a shortage of hot women in Paris."

Gary gave a half smile and looked away.

"Get home safe, bro," Russell said.

"Will do."

"Alright, later," Russell called out. He turned around and headed back into the bar.

Gary sighed deeply. He pulled up his hood, and disappeared into the light rain that had begun falling.

*

When Russell returned to the girls' table inside, he noticed that only a few stragglers remained of the hoard of single men that had been camping out there. Two guys were still hovering over Ariel's shoulders, but by this point they were conversing only with each other, although one would occasionally lean his head over the table to make a loud comment to the group of girls. But Marie was no longer sitting with them. Through the crowds, Russell spotted her leaning against the wall by the women's restroom. Then from nowhere, a tall, slim man emerged to talk to her. He tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to turn her head, smile, and begin introducing herself.

"Hi!" Marie said with a smile.

"Hey there. What's up?" He had a brown beard, and his green eyes sat behind a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses. He was wearing grey jeans and a plaid button down shirt that seemed red and brown, despite the fact that it was made up of many colors. Even though only the top two buttons on his shirt were undone, it was somehow clear by the small triangle of exposed chest that this man had a six-pack and firm if not sculpted pectorals and biceps.

"You're not French?" Marie asked.

"No, no. I graduated college this past spring, and now I'm backpacking through Europe—I'm almost done."

"Oh, cool. Where did you go to school?" Marie asked.

The young man took a swig of beer.

"I went to Boston University. You?"

"Well, I'm here studying abroad. I'm actually normally in the South of France, but we're on vacation right now in Paris. But normally I go to Hamilton College, in New York. New York State." Marie pulled the green bottle to her lips.

"Oh, that's cool. My name's Rob, by the way."

"I'm Marie."

"So how are you liking your trip so far? Has it been awesome?"

"Oh, well, it's been pretty good."

"Right," Rob responded, nodding his head slowly.

"Actually, it's been really fun!" Marie added, increasing the amount of energy in her voice. "I've seen so many amazing sites, I've made tons of friends, and I know I'll just go home with a lot of great memories."

"Oh, that's great," Rob said with a smile. He took another drink and waited a moment. "So no problems at all, huh?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that..."

Rob laughed. "It's okay if you do. Everybody has problems. Even me, believe it or not."

"Not you!" Marie said, smiling at Rob and playfully tapping him on the arm. He grinned and returned the tap.

"I'm a little surprised though. I always thought that really cute girls didn't have problems." He tipped his bottle in her direction.

Marie giggled and took another sip.

"Well, first, I want to thank you for the compliment. Second, yes, cute girls—like me—have problems. I just always seem to have so much anxiety. But like you said, everyone has problems."

Rob nodded.

"Anyway, enough about me. How has your trip been?"

"It's been fun too—but, I don't know, it's had its ups and downs."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Rob said with seriousness. "Most of the time things are great. I love life, I love my family, I love my friends. But some days I just wake up and don't feel quite like myself, you know?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes growing.

"I don't know what it is exactly. I think I'm just pretty smart, you know, and I'm smart enough to realize all of the terrible things in the world that are going on—"

Rob stopped himself. "This is sort of a weird conversation to be having in the middle of a bar. Do you want to go outside and have a cigarette with me?"

"I would, but I was actually thinking of heading back to the hostel pretty soon—I'm really tired."

"Oh. Do you want me to walk you back?" Rob asked.

"Sure, if you don't mind," Marie said.

"Not at all."

"Okay, let me just tell my friends."

Marie looked over at her friends' table. Danielle and Ariel were there, flirting with a pair of older-looking guys wearing dark suits. She then looked past the table and saw Russell leading Sarah and Morgan into the congested dancing area. She turned back to Rob.

"Actually, it's okay—I'll just text them."

*

As they walked back, their feet dodged the shallow puddles of rain that were scattered across the sidestreets.

"So you were saying how you're not feeling like yourself lately?" Marie began.

Rob lit his cigarette.

"Oh, are you sure you don't mind getting into that? I don't want to drag you down or anything. You seem like such a sweet, innocent girl."

"You wouldn't be dragging me down at all!" Marie cried. "I'd love to hear about it—really, I would. I love hearing about other people's problems."

"I don't know," Rob said, with a combination of reluctance and inquisitiveness in his voice. "I used to be pretty religious—or at least I had a strong conviction that there was a God. Now, I've lost my faith in God or an afterlife or anything. And it's just a very scary feeling to think that way." He laughed. "Don't worry, I don't think about this stuff too often. Just sometimes it'll get to me."

"Hmm. What do you think brought this on?"

"I think it was college more than anything. A lot of my professors were atheists so I learned a lot about different theories and interpretations on God, and I also just realized for the first time how much evil and how much injustice really exists in this world."

"So basically you're having an existential crisis."

"Basically."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm having a lot of depression myself."

"Oh yeah?" Rob said, taking a final drag before flicking his cigarette into the street.

"Yeah. I probably shouldn't be talking like this—I don't always censor myself so well when I'm drunk. And I know that tomorrow I'll wake up and regret saying this stuff. But even though I know that, I still can't help myself from talking this way now."

"Okay. Well, are you sure you want to talk about it?"

"Sure, why not?" Marie said with a chuckle. "Oh, this is actually the hostel right here on the left." She motioned toward a steel, four-story building wedged between a travel agency and a grocery store. Flanking the entrance of the grocery shop were three or four bare wooden fruit stands.

"Well, we can go back to my hostel if you feel like walking some more. It's just right around the corner," Rob said, looking off in its direction.

"Okay—that sounds good. This way we can talk some more, too."

They resumed walking.

"Yeah, it's been pretty bad. I wouldn't describe it as depression exactly—more like excessive worrying and fear. I just have these catastrophic thoughts going through my head constantly, and then I'll feel really physically anxious from getting myself so worried."

"Wow, that's really sad," Rob said.

"Yeah, it is, right?"

"I'm really sorry."

Rob took her hand, and she leaned into him.

"Yeah, and it's just bad because it makes it really hard for me to socialize—especially because everyone around me always seems so happy and carefree and like they're always having the best time. I'm always thinking about these stupid worries that are just a complete waste of my brain's energy. But it still feels like no matter how hard I try I can't stop thinking about them. So when I'm out I am just a ball of nerves and I can't relax and have a good time like everyone else. Then I become self-conscious of the fact that I am acting weird and sad and... Well, whatever. You don't care, anyway."

"No, I really do care," Rob said. "I really do, I promise. By the way, this is my hostel right here."

"Oh, okay."

"Well, do you want to come up?" Rob asked, gazing into Marie's eyes. "We can talk more upstairs."

"Um, yeah, sure. Why not."

When they got to Rob's room, Marie quickly excused herself to go to the bathroom. She switched on the overhead light and studied her face in the mirror. The shrill beam removed from her skin the warm glow and the flattering shadows that the bar's lighting had given her. Now, all of her freckles and blemishes were revealed. Unconsciously, she raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side to make herself appear prettier. She thought she looked ugly—well, not ugly, but certainly not pretty—but she had had too many drinks to really care.

She was now taking notice whenever she bit her inner cheek, and she knew that she hadn't done so in about six days. She now felt confident that Dr. Frascino's consent to kiss fully applied to her. Nevertheless, just to be safe, she still decided to inspect her gums for any cuts, sores, or wounds. She leaned her head toward the mirror, opened her mouth, and pulled aside her cheeks. She found nothing but unbroken surfaces.

And even if she had found something, she probably would not have denied herself the chance to kiss, for she would have known that it was not her oral abnormality that had caused the hypothetical sore. When Dr. Frascino gave permission to deep kiss HIV-positive people, he was almost certainly taking into account—though he never said so explicitly, only that one could not contract HIV through kissing unless one kissed like Dracula—the fact that the inside of one's mouth will often have an occasional perforation or small opening. What he wasn't accounting for in dispensing his consent—or at least, what Marie could not allow herself to assume he was accounting for—was that certain people have abnormalities that cause them to bite their mouths far more often than do people without such abnormalities. But so long as the perforation or opening could have occurred just as easily in a person without any oral peculiarity as it did with Marie—an irrelevant hypothetical on this evening, for Marie was entirely without sores—she would be able to consider herself exonerated, for Dr. Frascino's consent would have covered that type of injury.

Of course, it must be said that had Marie bitten her mouth in the last several hours in a way that caused it to bleed, even if her oral abnormality had nothing to do with her biting her mouth and the wound had thereby occurred in the normal course of things—if, say, for example, she took a nasty fall and bit her tongue on the way down—she probably would have chosen to refrain from kissing. Marie, though she may not have admitted this to herself, was still leaving open the possibility of getting tested, and she knew that she might not fully believe a negative test result if she was going to possess the knowledge that she had kissed with a relatively fresh wound less than three months before the test took place. Fresh blood or a fresh wound—no matter the amount or size—in the mouth of either partner during a kiss that occurred fewer than ninety days prior to the date of the test was enough to shatter the absolute reassurance Marie would receive from a negative result, despite Dr. Frascino's promise that HIV could not be transmitted through kissing unless one kissed like Dracula and sucked pint loads of blood at the same time.

Satisfied, she turned the light off and reached for the door handle. Before she turned the knob, however, she realized that her bathroom visit had been suspiciously noiseless. She flushed the toilet and ran the sink water before exiting.

"Don't mind him," Rob said. He motioned with a nod toward the top bunk of the hostel bed. A man's head, peaking out from a wool blanket, was sunken into the bed's white pillow. Through his overrun beard and the locks of messy red hair that swung down onto his forehead, Marie could see that his eyes were securely shut.

"He's just the guy I've been traveling around with," Rob continued. "He's an old buddy from high school. He was with me at the bar tonight, but he got way too drunk, so he went home early."

"Oh, okay," Marie said, forcing a smile.

Rob was sitting against the wall on a wooden chair—the only chair in the room—and Marie was standing plainly in the center of the room. They looked at each other, then they looked away. Nobody spoke.

"So," Rob said, clapping his hands together. "What do you want to do?"

Marie glanced at him. She pulled at the bottom of her dress. "Um, it's up to you."

Rob laughed. Then he got up, turned out the light, and led her with his hand into the lower bunk. They began kissing before their heads hit the pillow. Rob wrapped his arms around her, one hand thrown across her back and the other gripping the back of her head. As Marie hung onto his wet lips and felt the spikes of his beard bristle against her chin and nose, she momentarily forgot herself, giving in to the euphoria that came whenever a man touched and cradled her. Marie was lying on him, twitching slightly each time he reached and squeezed her. Rob's arm was outstretched behind his head, and she was tickling and playing with his fingers.

"This feels amazing," Marie thought to herself. But then the word "AIDS" began encroaching upon her like a mass of dark clouds from across the sky. Soon, Rob's palms were sending feverish chills across her skin.

The white streetlights buzzing outside cast a silver glow over the bedroom. When Marie opened her eyes to peek at Rob, his eyes were shut and his head was tilted in an expression of tender passion.

"You can't let this happen," Marie told herself. "Just focus on enjoying his lips and his touches and the way you touch him and stop thinking about AIDS."

So Marie began aggressively rubbing Rob's bicep with her right hand and propelled her tongue deep into Rob's throat. She gripped the top of his head so that her fingers were nearly buried underneath his shaggy hair. But her mind continued to race, and her outstretched arm turned to marble.

But Rob took Marie's aggression as a sign to move forward. He reached for the bottom of her purple dress and began trying to pull it over her head. She wriggled her arms to assist him, but as the fabric brushed her skin she shivered. Rob then took off his shirt and glasses, lowered himself onto her body, and resumed kissing her, squeezing his hands between her back and the mattress so that he could unclasp her bra.

And then Marie felt Rob's mouth leave hers. He had begun sucking on her neck and then the top of her chest. He moved down to her breasts, leaving Marie to stare at the sinking mattress looming above as this strange head with brown hair hovered over her torso.

As his head continued to lower, he left behind a trail of saliva that Marie could detect as the cold night air rushed through a sliver of open window. His tongue had reached her belly button.

"Is he doing what I think he's going to do?" she asked herself. She remembered that Dr. Frascino, so dismissive of the idea that HIV could be spread through kissing, felt that receiving oral sex was something that actually could warrant a test, though by no means required a test.

She soon felt his tongue reach her waistline. She let out an impulsive squeak.

"Rob?"

"Yeah?" Rob said, looking up at her.

"Can you stop?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

Both were silent as Rob crawled up to rest his head on the pillow next to hers. He put his t-shirt back on, and seconds later, Marie put on her bra and pulled the blanket far up over her chest. Faint snoring could be heard coming from the mattress above.

"I'm sorry," Marie said, staring up blankly.

"Sorry for what?"

"You know for what," she said, her voice cracking.

Rob didn't reply. The sleeper above them could be heard turning onto his other side, a transition that, at least for the moment, caused the snoring to cease.

"So how's it going," Marie said matter-of-factly, though with a slight quiver in her voice.

"Do you want me to take you back to your hostel?" he asked with sympathy.

"Oh. Do you want me to leave?" Marie asked.

"No, I—" Rob hesitated. "I just didn't want to be presumptuous that you would want to spend the night."

"Oh. I guess I'll leave then," Marie said. She went to reach for her dress.

"No—don't go. Really, I want you to stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay," Marie said. She stayed up for a few minutes, and became very tired as her heartbeat slowed. She turned her head on the cool pillowcase. The room was dark. The day had been filled with despair, but as she closed her eyes, she experienced ten seconds of pure bliss before sleep overtook her, sending her to a world of dreams and nothingness.

Chapter 19

Russell stumbled through the entrance to the hostel around 3 a.m., his hair wet from the rain.

"Room 301, please," he said to the woman behind the front desk. She was an African woman who appeared to be in her late thirties. Her large, red-rimmed spectacles magnified her eyes so that their size appeared disproportional to the rest of her face.

"Are you Russell?" she asked him.

Russell looked up at her.

"Yes?" he said.

"Your roommate, Gary, left a message with me for you." She pulled a post-it from somewhere under the desk and stuck it in front of her on the counter. "Let me see if I can get this right. He said he was going out for a long walk and might not be back for awhile. He said definitely not to worry about him. And he doesn't mind if you or Chris want to take the bottom bunk for the night."

"Did he seem okay?" Russell asked.

"Yes, although he did seem a little, I don't know, flustered. About as okay as anyone can seem who leaves in the middle of the night I suppose. But yes, I'd say he looked fine—honestly. He left the keys up here for you too."

"Okay," Russell said, taking the keys. "Thanks for letting me know."

He walked up the two flights of stairs and approached the door to his room. As he maneuvered the key into the lock, he could hear loud snoring coming from inside. Russell opened the door to find Chris sprawled out across the rollaway cot face down, his snoring a mixture of wheezes and snorts. He was sleeping in a white ribbed tank top. While preparing for bed, Russell repeatedly nudged him around his exposed shoulder blades in an attempt to halt his snoring.

*

The sun was rising in Paris. Clouds were stretching across the sky. The lower clouds were filled with bursts of red, orange, and gold, while the far away clouds were dark and shadowy and only tinged with these colors. Jutting out from the skyline into the heavens, the Eiffel Tower seemed to be harnessing furious energy. Its four legs were curved like those of a crouched animal preparing to pounce; its twisted, bronze-colored iron seemed determined to throw off every unnatural bend and coil.

Gary reached for his bottle of beer, concealed by a brown paper bag, and took a long swig. He placed the bottle back underneath the bench. For the last three hours, he had been sitting underneath the Eiffel Tower with two large beers, several pieces of notebook paper, a copy of Lonely Planet Paris, and a pen. He had been composing a love letter to Marie.

He signed the bottom.

\--

Dear Marie,

I'm not really a love letter writing kind of guy but we are in Paris so I figured I'd give it my best shot.

It's probably a little soon to start talking about love but I definitely really really like you. Maybe you know this already but I had to tell you.

First of all, you are just the cutest girl ever. I love your smile. I love how you wear your headphones everywhere and how sometimes you bob your head to the music. I love this cute look you have everytime you make a joke. You are sweet and funny and just amazing. You're also very real. I feel like with other girls what you see is what you get but with you there is so much more beneath the surface.

I've honestly liked you since the very first day of the program when we first met outside Butler's class. I could just tell you were a little bit nervous when you were introducing yourself and I immediately felt that I just wanted to take care of you. I've kind of felt that way ever since.

Anyway, I'm sorry but I just couldn't keep this in anymore.

Gary

\--

He placed the paper on his lap and lifted his head to listen to the music of the city at daybreak. He immediately heard, as though the sounds had not existed until he opened his ears to them, the whir and clatter of delivery trucks over bridges, the lapping waves of the river, and the hoarse murmuring between pairs of old men as they walked to work. Gary sighed and a picture of himself and Marie arose in his mind. They were sitting on a park bench, lost in a meadow of emerald grass as sunlight streamed down. Gary whispered something in Marie's ear. She giggled and then smiled at him in a way that showed that he had said exactly the right thing. Gary closed his eyes and tasted the sweetness of melancholy as it sloshed over him. He then grasped the letter and began walking back toward the hostel.

Chapter 20

Marie woke up early as she often did after a night of drinking. It was still dark outside, though the sky's grey-blue haze showed that it would be morning soon. Marie fished around the side of the bed for her handbag—she recalled that last night she had dropped it somewhere in that vicinity—and pulled out her cell phone. She hit a random button to light up the screen and saw that the digital clock read 5:57 a.m.

She felt like she had woken up the second the last drop of alcohol left her body, for her level of consciousness had never seemed so acute. She was experiencing a heightened sense of awareness and wakefulness that was nearly too sickening to bear. Lying awake in bed at six in the morning, with no one to talk to, with liquor rolling around in her stomach, without even anything to look at, she felt completely powerless before her fears. It was as though the faint respite that alcohol had afforded her had, at the same time, given her worries an incubation period, allowing them to return stronger and nastier. She then looked sideways at Rob, who was stretched out next to her. She prayed he wouldn't wake up.

She had withdrawn so deeply into herself that she began to wonder if she were even present in her current situation. "Am I really lying in bed right now next to another breathing human being with another one of these humans sleeping on the bunk above me?" she asked herself. "Is my name really Marie Weltstern? Did I really grow up with a younger sister and brother on Ashbourne Road? Was I really bat-mitzvah'd in the company of my loved ones? Did I really ride in a limo to my senior prom with all my friends?"

She felt as though she were lodged somewhere deep in the cosmos, surrounded by infinite blackness and white, glassy stars. And yet, here she was, in this room, breathing, digesting, wearing a pair of underwear she'd bought at Gap with her mom.

"I can't live like this anymore!" she screamed silently. "I shouldn't have to wake up at 6 a.m. and feel this way when I am on vacation in Paris with my friends! When I am sleeping next to a cute boy I met at a bar! I should be sleeping and cuddling. Why couldn't I just have a good time last night like everyone else did?

"And all of this could be ended if I would just get a stupid test. Maybe I'll do it. Right now. But maybe I shouldn't. I don't know."

She let out a short breath and began scratching at her neck.

"You know what? That's it. I am going to walk the streets of Paris until I find a hospital. Then, I'm going in and getting tested. This is ridiculous. It's been over three months now, and I don't have to worry about last night because I checked my mouth for any sores, and we really didn't do anything past kissing.

"But maybe I shouldn't..." She lay there for several minutes, obsessing about which choice to make, each option somehow seeming simultaneously dreadful. Suddenly however, as if by God's grace, a feeling of resolve and firmness overtook her.

"You came up with a plan," Marie thought. "And now you must stick to it. Just a few minutes ago you told yourself you would find a hospital and get tested. That was your decision. There is no second-guessing now."

She shifted herself out of the twin bed, attempting to minimize to the greatest degree possible any noise or bodily movements. Rob, however, did not so much as even stir and probably would have slept soundly even if Marie had not maneuvered herself with such dexterity.

Now in the well-lit hallway, Marie began to delicately draw the door to a close. Yet, when just a thin opening appeared between the door and the wall, she halted and peered inside. Rob's face was soaked in the sky's early light. Marie, though she felt almost no closeness with Rob, felt a little displeasure at the idea of never, not once in the remainder of her life, seeing his face again. She was sure to snap a mental photograph of him before closing the door shut.

Chapter 21

Gary was now walking down the quai Branly. On his left, he could hear the tiny waves of the river as it rushed and churned underneath the storied bridges and echoed off the old stone walls. He looked over his right shoulder at the Eiffel Tower. The rising sun had turned the tower into a half-silhouette. He looked down at the letter and then up again at the tower.

"Imagine," he thought to himself, "how many lovesick men walked the streets of Paris, just like me, and gazed at this tower to find solace and inspiration."

Gary sighed and quickened his pace. "I just want Marie to be my girlfriend," he thought to himself.

He stopped as a group of schoolchildren crossing the passerelle Debilly emptied out onto the quai Branly. Because he only spoke a little French, he couldn't really decipher what the children were saying. Still, he was touched by the French accents of their sweet voices, and he had to smile when he noticed that they were saying "moi" instead of "me" and "c'est comme ça" instead of "it's like that." He even had the urge to reach out and tousle the angelic hair of one of the boys, but then he thought better of it.

*

Her arms and legs felt as heavy as concrete as she walked down rue Debrousse toward the Seine. As she neared the river, she was finally able to see past the stone walls and look into the water. The river was glistening in the sunlight and reflecting the trees and buildings that lined the thoroughfares. Firm in her decision to get tested, Marie began scanning the landscape for signs with the red cross in order to locate the nearest hospital. She had made up her mind to get tested for AIDS, and now she just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

She turned right onto the voie Georges Pompidou and the cloudless sky opened up before her. She saw the Eiffel Tower, which was not only dominating the skyline but also appeared to be dominating the bright blue sky itself. The sight of the famous tower did nothing to rescue her from her joyless state. It only increased her frustration and disappointment, for it seemed to symbolize all of the hopes that she had mistakenly expected her voyage to France to bring her: an escapade of romantic and youthful love, a continual appreciation of culture and the arts, trips to the most coveted sites and locales, a dabbling in bohemian excesses, a taste of the foreign.

She knew that she should be appreciating this moment, a young and healthy girl on a beautiful morning, in eyeshot of the Eiffel Tower of all places! She tried to savor the vision of the Tower, forcing herself to think back on what it must have witnessed during its history, to marvel at its architectural achievements, and to grasp the way it complemented the Parisian cityscape. But her awareness of the imminent HIV test made it impossible for frivolous thoughts to enter her mind. For how could lighthearted reflections on aesthetics and European history ever supplant matters pertaining to one's own life and death?

*

"I've got a good feeling about this," Gary thought as he continued down the quai Branly, approaching the passerelle Debilly. "She's a smart girl. She'll see that we're right for each other."

Gary then caught a whiff of freshly heated Nutella and sweetened batter. There was a sidewalk crêpe stand several paces ahead that he would soon stroll past. The pan was smoking and crackling in the cool morning air, so much so that the chef was occasionally using his hand to brush the rising white smoke away from his face.

"Hey," Gary said as he neared the counter.

"Would you care to be my first customer of the day, monsieur?" the chef asked in English.

Gary, after briefly making eye contact with the chef, looked at the stand and then stared straight ahead in thought. He reasoned that he had plenty of time. Marie and the others probably wouldn't be getting their days started for at least a couple of hours.

"Sure, why not?" Gary said with a grin to the chef. "I just can't resist these things—even in the morning."

*

Marie continued walking. The voie Georges Pompidou soon gave way to the avenue de New York. As she scanned the street signs, she discerned a small red square in the distance. She had very good vision—better than 20/20 as she liked to brag to her friends—but found herself, in this instance, wishing her eyesight were less dependable, so afraid she was that she had discovered the path to the hospital. Unfortunately, as Marie moved closer to the sign with the once blurry red square, the red cross and the word "l'hôpital" became apparent.

The realization of how close she now was to the actual test caused true panic to grip her. Though she would never admit it to herself, her real fear was that, somehow, the results would come back positive, and she would have to live the rest of her life with the knowledge that she would soon be dead. More than that, she would have to sit her family and close friends down and somehow explain to them that the girl they had nurtured and loved for so many years had just been diagnosed with HIV. And then she would need to track down the boy from last night, Rob, and explain to him that she had put him at risk for contracting HIV, and that he too would need to be tested. And what if his results also came back positive? How would she ever face his family? How would they react when they found out that her carelessness had victimized their altogether innocent and beloved son?

Marie knew, of course, that all of this was highly unlikely. It was funny: she didn't really think much anymore about the actual incident that was the root cause of all her worry. That night at Russell's apartment now seemed so distant that she could scarcely believe that the kiss that took place there underlay all of her torment and even her current situation of wandering the streets of Paris at dawn. However, she knew that it was a long series of step-by-step arguments that led her to the spot on which she currently stood, and that, were she to read them backward, she would find herself once again at Russell's apartment with her tongue in his mouth.

And because it was only a kiss that had brought her to this point, Marie knew that the likelihood that her test would come back positive was infinitesimal if not nonexistent. Were it not for this oral abnormality that the doctor from the internet, Dr. Frascino, could not possibly have been considering when he claimed that deep kissing could not transmit HIV, she would almost certainly have been able to shrug off the entire episode with Russell. Still, she knew that it was highly probable that Dr. Frascino would have given her the free pass to deep kiss anyone even if she had told him that she had an abnormality that caused her to bite her mouth more often than normal folk. This fear of the test revealing a positive result, then, mainly came from the binary nature of the test itself and not from any mathematical assessment of risk. Because the test only had two outcomes—negative or positive—it felt in a very superficial sense as though she were going to engage in a coin flip, where her chances of AIDS or not-AIDS were equal.

Following the sign, Marie turned left onto the passerelle Debilly and began crossing over to the other side of the river.

*

Gary looked down at the last piece of his crêpe, the brown Nutella oozing between its countless folds. He sighed. How disappointed he was that only one bite remained of his sweet and delicious snack! He was tempted to buy a second but resisted the urge to eat superfluously. "Why is it that one is never enough and two is always too much?" he thought to himself.

He stood up and prepared to cross the passerelle Debilly. The bridge was now busy with people, but his eyes filtered through the activity to notice that an attractive young girl was crossing from the other direction. No thought was ever too consuming, no crowd too spirited, to prevent a cute girl from capturing Gary's attention, despite whatever distance or obstacle stood between his gaze and her figure.

She was so far away that Gary only approved of her on the basis of superficial and imprecise features. The calm skin, the vibrant hair, the black leggings: Gary knew that a girl somewhere between the ages of sixteen and twenty-eight and of at least reasonably good looks would soon be crossing his path.

It only took a few more brisk paces, however, for Gary to begin wondering if he knew this girl. She looked a lot like Marie. "Oh my God," Gary thought to himself. "It is Marie."

"Oh crap," Marie thought to herself. She had caught sight of a young guy with dark hair, a maroon jacket, and a poised yet lanky gait. "Is that Gary?" It was. She lowered her head like a ram and charged forward. However, out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Gary jogging across the street. She then heard a voice directly from behind her calling, "Marie!"

Marie pretended like she didn't hear the voice and continued to plow ahead. However, she soon felt a tapping on her shoulder, leaving her no choice but to turn around.

Chapter 22

"Hey Gary! What's up?"

"Marie," Gary said, as though surprised that it really was her. "What are you doing here?"

Though Gary had been smiling when he first turned her around, Marie saw that his lips were now locked so firmly together that they appeared immovable at that instant. She then perceived behind him the mist rising up from the waterway.

"I'm just sightseeing," Marie said in a pleasant tone. "I'm going now to visit the Eiffel Tower."

"Oh," Gary said. "I just came from there."

"Oh, that's cool."

"So are you doing okay?" Gary asked.

"Yeah, I'm great!" Marie said.

"That's great," he said. He felt in his pocket for the letter. As he was debating when to pull it out to give to her, Marie turned slightly, as though to leave.

"Marie?"

"Hey," she said back, with downcast eyes.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Gary asked again.

She looked up and saw Gary's gentle eyes. She took a small step toward him. She thought for a moment that she was about to begin sobbing wildly. But then she looked away, swallowed, and the feeling passed as quickly as it had arisen. Again she sensed that she had control of herself, and, inexplicably, actually felt somewhat lighthearted.

She let out a sigh. "Gary, I'm not going to the Eiffel Tower." She paused. "Oh, who even cares anymore! Listen, I'm going to get an AIDS test."

"An AIDS test?" Gary asked. "You can't be serious. Why? What happened?"

"You're going to laugh."

"Marie—what the hell is going on?" He seemed to grow angry.

"It's just from kissing this guy one night at this club," Marie said quickly. "It was a few months ago. You weren't there."

Gary didn't say anything.

"So I'm worried I got AIDS from kissing this guy. He was kind of trashy and stuff. He had a few tattoos. I don't know. Seemed like the AIDS type."

"I'm sure he didn't have AIDS," Gary said hesitantly.

"Well, we just kissed," Marie said. "So it's basically impossible to get AIDS from kissing."

"Yeah. Exactly."

"I know. I know, I'm crazy. It's really embarrassing. But I guess I'm just concerned because we made out, and what if he had blood in his mouth and it got into my bloodstream somehow?"

Gary looked confused, and she laughed.

"It's not that I'm actually even worried about having AIDS. It's just that I can't get the doubt out of my mind, and I just don't want to have to keep thinking for years, you know, that there is a chance that I have AIDS, however tiny. And I guess the only way to remove that doubt is for me to get a test. Do you know what I mean?"

"A little," Gary said. His expression softened. "But all I can really see for sure is how much pain you're in."

Marie felt a lump forming in the back of her throat again.

"Well, what should I do?"

"About the HIV test?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, why don't you want to get tested?"

She sighed in frustration. "Because I've already been tested before—also for something crazy like this—and I can't just keep getting HIV tests all my life. If I don't fight this one, the next time I'm worried it will be even harder to not get tested."

"Okay," Gary said. "So then you shouldn't get tested. It's simple."

"Yeah, I guess," Marie said. "But then I'll continue to feel horrible all the time."

"You feel horrible all the time?"

She nodded and rubbed at her cheek with her hand.

"But you always seem so happy. Well, sometimes you seem a little down I guess. But you're always smiling and making jokes."

"Thanks, Gary," Marie said quietly.

Gary grabbed her forearm. "Come on. Let's go back to the hostel. Don't get the stupid AIDS test. I'm sure you don't have it."

Marie resisted. "But I promised myself that I would go get tested today!" After saying this, she felt Gary's grip loosen. She then leaned into him and asked, "Are you sure I should come with you?"

"Well, what does your heart tell you to do?"

She paused. "It tells me to come with you. I'm pretty sure, at least."

Gary laughed. "Well, let's just go then. Before you change your mind. Come on. It will be okay, I promise."

"I don't know, Gary," Marie said. "Now I'm starting to think I should get a test."

"Marie." He gripped the top of her shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Don't get a test."

Marie hesitated at first to respond. "Okay," she then said, with unmistakable firmness. Gary, however, continued to stare at her as though she had said nothing.

"Gary?"

"Let's go back to the hostel," he said suddenly. "Come on."

They started walking back together. As they hurried, Gary used his fingers to crumple up the letter and stuff it deep into his pocket.

Chapter 23

Marie and Gary returned to the hostel, passed through the lobby, and found their friends in the small dining room, seated around a breakfast table.

"Hey guys!" Gary called out. Ariel, Sarah, and Russell all turned their heads. There were half-eaten baguettes and opened packets of butter and strawberry jelly on the table, as well as Styrofoam cups with thin pools of orange juice at their bottoms.

"Gary!" Russell cried. He stood up from the table and spread out his arms in celebration.

"Marie!" Sarah cried. "Where have you been?"

"I'll tell you about it later," she said quickly.

"Okay," Sarah said.

"I was just going to ask Gary the same thing," Russell said, putting emphasis on Gary's name. "Where have you been, dude?"

"Oh, you know," Gary said. "Just walking the streets of Paris."

"Really?" Russell asked.

"Yeah, I really wanted to see the Eiffel Tower at night, without all the tourists."

"Oh my god, that's so cool," Sarah said. "How was it?"

"It was nice," Gary said. "Very peaceful."

"That's such a good idea," Sarah said. "We should all do that tonight."

"Are you alright and everything?" Russell asked as he spread butter across his opened roll of bread. "You had me and Chris kind of worried, to be honest."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Gary said. "Speaking of Chris, where is he?"

"He should be on his way down," Russell said, biting into his roll. "I think he went out pretty hard with his high school buddies last night."

"Wait, I'm confused," Ariel said, looking up at Gary and Marie. "Why are you guys even together right now?"

"Oh," Gary said with a laugh. "We ran into each other on the way here."

"Yeah, we ran into each other on the way here," Marie repeated.

"Oh," Ariel said, as though she finally understood.

Gary took a seat next to Russell and began to smear the half-eaten rolls with some of the leftover butter and jam. Marie remained standing, glancing at random objects throughout the room and grinning to herself.

"Come sit down, Marie," Sarah said, gesturing to the open chair next to her.

"Oh, of course!" Marie said.

Marie smoothed out the purple folds in the bottom of her dress and sat down elegantly. She reached for a piece of baguette, but stopped her motion in midair and returned her hands to her lap.

"Russell, can I just say that that white v-neck looks great on you?" Ariel said.

Russell grinned and looked away. "Thanks. I think it cost me a whole five dollars."

"I don't know why you don't wear that when we go out instead of those button-downs with all of that shiny writing on them."

"Hahaha," Russell said, feigning laughter. "There you go again. Everytime we go out this girl makes fun of my shirt," he said to the table.

"You can't just ever give someone a genuine compliment, can you Ariel," Sarah said.

"Nope, never."

Marie spoke a few moments later. "Do you guys know if they have coffee here?"

"They don't. I already asked," Ariel said. "It sucks. Just orange juice and water."

"They ran out of orange juice, too," Russell said. "That big group of Asian students basically finished it off when they stormed through here."

"Dammit. Are you sure? I was about to go get a cup so I'd have something to wash down these baguettes," Gary muttered as he chewed on a roll.

"The water fountain's over there," Russell said, pointing down a corridor that began at the other side of the room.

"Yeah, but I wanted orange juice," Gary said. "Whatever. I'll just get a drink of water when I leave." He took another bite.

Marie, who was sitting diagonal from Russell, watched as a mischievous smile stretched across his face.

"Well, speak of the devil..." Russell said.

Marie turned around to see Chris striding toward them. Danielle and Morgan were walking close behind him. Chris was wearing a faded red t-shirt, light blue jeans, and a forward-facing white baseball hat. He was rather muscular, so that the contours of his chest muscles could be seen imprinted into his t-shirt.

"Watch out for these two," Chris said, smirking. He gestured toward Danielle and Morgan. "They're nothing but trouble." The two girls giggled.

They walked over to the breakfast table and sat down. Morgan had to grab a chair from a nearby table so she would have a place to sit. Marie and Sarah inched their chairs to the side to make room for her.

"How'd you meet Danielle and Morgan already?" Russell asked Chris.

"Oh, I thought I told you. I met all of these girls when I came in last night," Chris said. "We all got back around the same time."

"Oh, cool."

"Yeah," Chris said, grinning at Russell. "They told me you were still at the bar making out with some French girl when they all left."

A wave of laughter came forth from the table.

"You love these foreign girls, Russell," Ariel exclaimed.

"I hear they can be pretty hot as long as they shave their legs," Chris joked.

Russell smiled bashfully. "First of all, she wasn't French, she was Irish, which doesn't really count as foreign, in my opinion. Second of all, she was hot, okay?"

"She was pretty," Sarah conceded.

A few of the other girls nodded their heads. The table grew quiet.

"Have any more luck with her?" Danielle asked quickly. Everybody's eyes turned toward Russell.

"Obviously not. I'm here right now, aren't I?" Russell said, with a little frustration.

Danielle nodded her head, seeming to share in Russell's disappointment.

"The man makes a good point," Gary said, leaning back in his chair.

"He does," Chris said. "Anyway, let me change the subject for a second. Are you guys ready for this? Guess where we're partying tonight." He paused, as though to build the effect. "Any guesses? Come on."

"How could we possibly know that?" Sarah asked with some annoyance.

"London," he announced.

A few murmurs immediately ran through the group.

Russell laughed. "London? Are you serious, man?"

"Yeah. I have three friends there sharing a huge apartment that's apparently completely decked out. Just got a confirmation text from one of them. I wanted to surprise you. We're going to pre-game there and then go out to the clubs. One of the guys has a cousin living there who happens to be a bouncer at one of London's hottest clubs that is, like, impossible to get into. I talked to him and he said he can get all of us in—so long as we roll up with the girls."

"But how would we get there?" Sarah asked, looking at her friends and then back at Chris.

"The Chunnel."

Chris said this with a confidence that suggested that he thought he would be able to quell, with just one word, Sarah's unfounded anxieties.

At Chris' suggestion, everyone began chattering, and general commotion ensued.

"What's the Chunnel?" a voice surfaced amid the din. It was Morgan.

"It's a train that goes through the English Channel. It takes people from France to England." Marie said loudly.

"You mean it goes underwater?" Morgan asked.

"Yep."

"Wow. That's crazy."

"I know. Pretty cool, huh?" Marie said.

"How much do you think we should pack?" Ariel asked.

"I don't know," Chris said. He looked at the ground meditatively. "I'd say probably just your backpack. My guess is we'll only stay there one night—maybe two. We can keep our bigger bags in lockers here for three euros each. They said we could at the front desk."

Side conversations sprung up. The students engaged in little debates on the assortment of merits and disadvantages contained within the idea of the trip. Finally, all became silent, as though they somehow all at the same moment realized that the appropriate time to make a decision had arrived.

"I say we do it," Russell declared. "Awesome plan, Chris."

The girls exchanged further glances of apprehension.

"Come on," Chris said, standing up from his chair. "You only live once. The Chunnel can get us back and forth in, like, two hours, and you don't have to be back to Faubourg for, like, what—a week? How long, Russell?"

"About five days," Russell said

"Five days. Are you kidding me? That's plenty of time."

Sarah laughed. "Okay, Chris, you convinced me." She looked around at her girlfriends. "You guys are all in, right?"

Either enthusiastically or grudgingly, everyone agreed to go. Soon, the students were boarding three taxis and heading for the gare du Nord.

Chapter 24

Russell was looking lazily out his window as the train roared along. The picture outside was mesmerizing. The neat rows of vineyards were flying past him, each waiting its turn to appear motionless before the eye, and then, after its instant of prominence had passed, flinging itself back like a rubber band into the sea of indistinction. The leaves had fallen off of the brown, withering grapevines, but the fields were still a bright lime-green underneath the sun. Russell warmed his cheek against the window and gazed upward at the heaps of cotton-like cloud puffs tumbling over each other. These giant puffs were so playful, so close, so boisterous, that Russell half expected them to scoop him up into the blue sky and float him over the sunlit hills. He then began to wonder to himself, "Shouldn't we be at the English Channel by now?" He looked down at his watch. They had already been on the train for almost an hour. He looked up at his friends. All were either sleeping, chatting, or playing cards. Russell turned his head to the window again. He was beginning to get worried.

Russell spotted an attendant in the next car speaking to some passengers and decided to go up to him.

"Excuse me, sir?" Russell asked. "How much longer until we reach the English Channel?"

"Pardon ?"

"Ehh, quand arrivons-nous au Channel ?"

The attendant looked annoyed. "Quoi ?"

"Ehh, quand allons-nous en Angleterre ?" Russell asked again.

The man glared at Russell. "Nous n'allons pas en Angleterre. Ce train va à Rennes."

"Rennes ?"

"Oui, Rennes." The attendant turned and continued walking down the aisle.

"Où est Rennes ?" Russell called after him, but the attendant didn't look back. Russell headed back toward his seat and sat down.

"Guys, do you know where Rennes is?"

"Um, I think it's somewhere in Normandy," Sarah said. She was playing cards with Gary and Marie. "It's in the Northwest."

"Yeah, it's definitely in the Northwest, close to Normandy," Marie said, looking up. "I don't think it's in Normandy though. Why?" She picked up a card from the pile.

"Just wondering."

Russell indiscreetly buried his face in his hands and clutched his hair. He then stood up, walked through the aisle, and disappeared into one of the train's many corridors. He returned two minutes later and moved toward the group rapidly. He looked wholly troubled. The fiery vigor in his cheeks had dissipated, and his eyes seemed to be searching frantically for some object worth focusing on.

"Guys, I'm really sorry, but I think Chris and I got you on the wrong train. It turns out we're going to Rennes." He then slumped down in his seat and punched the car's plastic wall with the side of his fist.

"Dude, are you fucking serious?" Chris hollered. Several passengers turned around to look at him. "What the fuck are we going to do?"

"This is bad," Gary said with a hint of amusement, looking down at the floor and shaking his head. "This is really bad," he said again, this time with complete seriousness.

The girls, too, were panicking. Danielle even called her dad up in the United States from her cell phone. She was having him look up French travel services and maps of France on the internet. Morgan was sobbing, and Sarah and Ariel were comforting her. Ariel, though laughing at first, grew solemn once Morgan started to cry.

But Marie remained rather indifferent to Russell's announcement. She knew that, in the end, everything would work out. They would find some way back to Paris—catch another train most likely—and they would either go to London the next day or just hang out in Paris for a few more days before going back to Faubourg. Besides, she thought to herself, if my brain's coming with me, how much more enjoyable is London going to be than Paris or Faubourg or any other city for that matter? I guess I am a little disappointed—I have been dying to see London after all—but not too much.

She considered trying to console her friends. She could explain to them that wherever they ended up would be warm and safe, that they would have each other for entertainment and company, that they would ultimately land in Faubourg, and, finally, the United States. But as she looked around at her friends' visible distress, she told herself to be silent. Why attempt to disrupt these gripping emotions that her friends were permitted to revel in? For she knew that, though they never would have admitted it, her friends were actually having fun confronting this predicament.

She realized, too, that her attempt at consolation would probably leave her friends exasperated rather than gracious. And she refused to submit to her desire to showcase her ability to react to a situation with emotions diametrically opposed to the emotions the same situation ordinarily elicits in people. So rather than use logic to prove their fears to be silly, she joined them in their blubbering panic. She pretended to be afraid, she pretended to care. Fortunately, the hysteria started to die down about fifteen minutes later, allowing her the opportunity to settle down with her book on Romanesque architecture that was taking forever to get through.

Chapter 25

The five girls were sitting on a long bench at the gare du Rennes. They were away from the tracks, seated in a public area surrounded by a score of miniature cafés, souvenir stores, and counter restaurants. They settled their backs against the bench's slanted aluminum beam and gnawed on various pastries they had just bought from one of the counters. Both tired and hungry, they ate without the usual chatter. Marie savored the crispy, warm flakes of her pain au chocolat and the sweetness of its viscous filling. Yet, with each bite came the feeling that a thin layer of butter was being spread over her chin, causing much of her face to feel clogged and salted.

"Guys, we're only a few hours from the Normandy beaches," Sarah said in between bites of her croissant.

"Are we?" Danielle asked.

"Yeah, take a look," Sarah said. She motioned toward an advertisement on the wall beside them. The ad overlapped present-day color images of Normandy's marshland and rocky shores with black-and-white photographs of fighter planes, hordes of soldiers, and lines of military tombstones. "My grandfather fought in World War II so I've always wanted to go there."

"Oh my god!" Morgan cried out. "Guys, can we please go there? I have the craziest story. My grandfather was a soldier during World War II and I'm almost positive he came in through Normandy. Anyway, he was wounded and ended up in a French family's backyard. The family found him and nursed him back to health. And the daughter of the family was my grandmother! That's how they met!"

"Really?" Danielle asked excitedly. "That is the sweetest thing ever!"

"That's so cool," Ariel said. "That's like something out of a movie."

"I know, isn't it?" Morgan said.

"That's honestly adorable," Sarah said.

"Actually, I think both of my grandfathers were in World War II," Ariel said.

"So can we please go? Oh my god, my grandfather would be so happy to hear I went," Morgan said.

"I would go," Marie said. "That sounds awesome."

"That would be awesome. But how would we even get there?" Ariel asked.

This question silenced the girls.

"Well, the sign says it's only a three hour bus ride," Morgan said. "Why don't we rent a car and go?"

The remaining girls still seemed hesitant.

"Come on, guys," Marie said. "It'll totally be worth it."

"But what if we get lost or something?" Sarah asked.

Gary suddenly emerged from one of the souvenir stores and began walking excitedly toward the girls. He had his backpack on his shoulders and he was gripping a black shopping bag with red handles. The bag was being stretched in odd directions as the objects inside pushed against its plastic material, and some of these spikes occasionally knocked the side of Gary's leg as he walked with the bag swinging beside him.

"What'd you get?" Danielle asked Gary once he'd neared them.

"So much stuff," Gary said, almost regretfully. He looked over his shoulder at the store for a moment and then looked back at the girls. "Basically a ton of Toblerone. I also got a bag of chips and pretzels and..." he opened the bag and peered inside. "Oh, a bag of Chex Mix."

"I call I'm sitting next to Gary for the ride home," Ariel joked, giving Gary a nice smile.

Gary laughed. "Where are Chris and Russell?" he asked.

"They're still at the ticket counter I think," Morgan responded.  
"Still?" Gary asked.

"I think so. They still had a few people ahead of them when I went over there," Morgan said. "By the way, Gary. Would you want to go to Normandy?"

"Normandy?" Gary asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Oh, here they come now."

Everyone looked to see Russell and Chris strolling toward them. Their faces were serious as they walked, though they both began to grin slightly once they started making eye contact with members of the group.

"Okay, here's what they told us," Russell said. "We can catch a train back to Paris at 6 p.m. and 8 p.m.—all of the other trains are sold out. I figure if we catch the six o'clock we can still have a few hours to check out the town."

"We were actually thinking about driving up to the Normandy beaches," Morgan said.

"Driving?" Chris asked.

"Wasn't the lady at the counter saying something about that?" Russell asked Chris. "I couldn't really understand her."

"I have no idea, man," Chris said. "Maybe she was." He paused for a moment. He seemed to be thinking seriously to himself.

"Anyway, if we decide to go, we probably shouldn't buy tickets for the train at eight. The sign says the drive's a few hours," Morgan said. "But we could always spend a night there! That would be so fun! We could stay in a bed and breakfast!"

"I think it'd be really fun," Marie said reservedly.

"How would we get there?" Chris asked quickly.

"We could rent a car," Morgan said.

"Can we rent a car?" Sarah jumped in.

"I'm pretty sure we can," Morgan said. "My big was here last spring, and I remember she told me she rented a car twice—once when her parents came to visit and once with her friends. I think you just need a driver's license and a passport."

"Are you sure we won't get lost?" Chris asked.

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Morgan said. "Plus, we're good enough at French that we could always stop for directions if we need to. I'm telling you guys, this would be so fun!"

"I'd be down to go," Gary said.

Another silence ensued, and everyone's eyes seemed to be on Chris. Staring at the ground with his arms folded, he again appeared to be thinking deeply.

"Alright, yeah, I'd go," he finally said. "So long as I get to drive."

Chapter 26

The minivan whizzed along the winding road that seemed to arise naturally out of the countryside. They drove beside golden meadows dotted with black-faced sheep and followed thin rivers riding beneath the slopes of foothills. Further on, there were soaring cypresses alongside the road, and the rolling fields that they then came upon were yellow and speckled with red rose tips. Without a doubt, the gravel path seemed to give direction and purpose to what would have otherwise been an unruly landscape senselessly stretching out to infinity.

The laughter in the car was unbearable. Marie could not remember her anxiety ever being this bad or ever feeling such hopelessness! Sitting in the van's back corner, she tried to keep her mind busy by attempting to appreciate the beauty of the landscape outside... How big the sky is, how intricate the branches of the trees are, how seamlessly the colors blend into one another... but, entirely unaware, her thoughts soon changed to... Should I get that HIV test? Just get the test already. A test is all you need to be able to laugh and joke around like everyone else in the van right now.

Marie soon shook herself out of this exasperating thought cycle. Her plan had failed. Observations of nature's aesthetics simply could not take root in her mind. She was ashamed. What kind of person looks into the boundless and eternal sky and thinks only of an HIV test that is, in all likelihood, entirely unnecessary? She felt frustrated by her inability—or perhaps her refusal—to comprehend her insignificance. And yet, she truly could not convince herself to care about anyone or anything, no matter how glorious, more than her own happiness.

She then attempted to get into her friends' conversation. They were laughing and quoting lines from the popular TV show Three Peas in a Pod—a program that Marie had caught a few times, but with which she was nevertheless unfamiliar. Bored by their chatter, her thoughts returned to considering the test, envying her friends, and lamenting her present state. At least, she thought, there probably wouldn't be any testing centers in Ouistreham—the small coastal village where they would be spending the night. This would be much better than London, where hospitals and clinics abounded. For the time being, then, the pressure to get tested was somewhat mitigated. Marie crossed her legs and her arms so that she was practically hugging herself and then went back to staring out the window. She was hoping to go unnoticed until her anxiety passed; she really didn't want any carefree question or gesture coming her way until she felt a little more fortified.

"Oh shit!" Chris cried from the driver's seat.

"Oh my god, what is it?" Morgan screamed.

"Fuck," Chris grunted to himself.

"Chris, what the hell's going on?" Sarah demanded.

Chris still kept silent. Finally, Russell nudged him from the passenger's seat and said gently, "Come on, bro. Tell us what happened." Marie was leaning forward with her hands on her kneecaps. She was staring wide-eyed at the scene transpiring before her.

Chris exhaled. "I made a wrong turn."

"Well, can't you turn around and just go the right way?" Sarah asked. She sounded fearful.

"Where was the turn?" Gary asked.

"I think it was one of those weird turnstile things," Chris said. "God, those things are annoying."

"Well just turn around and go back there," Sarah said.

"Okay, okay," Chris said.

He made a U-turn with noticeable carefulness. About five minutes later, they had come back to the turnstile. Chris studied with great intensity the sign leading up to the circle—he didn't want to make the same mistake twice. He hit the roundabout again, and this time turned at the fourth lane rather than the fifth. He drove on.

"Are we good now?" Ariel yelled from the back.

"Yeah," Chris answered. "We're good." He looked over his right shoulder for a moment. "Ariel, pass me my bag. I'm gonna pop a few Adderall so I can concentrate better."

*

The long drive continued. It was now dusk, and the day's autumn splendor was fading. The wind began to blow more steadily through the tops of the trees. The branches swayed and the leaves rustled together like the cymbals on a shaking tambourine. As they fell to the ground, the red and orange leaves were swinging back and forth in pendulum-like motion. The breeze swirled upward, around the tree trunks and along the limbs, leaving the uppermost twigs for the high and whirling winds, to pick up speed and race toward the emerging constellations. These early stars were already scattered across the sky, but grew more concentrated along the wide rose-colored strip running horizontally above the mountaintops.

Marie was sitting in the back of the van, her body swaying slightly as the vehicle looped around the turnstile and rumbled over the broken pavement. She was experiencing that feeling of near-euphoria that comes in the moments leading up to sleep. The girls' laughter became songlike; Chris' thunderous voice was beating and lulling like a steady bass line; the crippling fear of an HIV test was a stone tablet removed from her chest and now resting beside her. She twitched twice and then slept deeply.

*

She awoke to darkness. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was venturing through the French countryside and not trekking to her grandparents' for the holidays, so accustomed was she to the unpredictable naps that accompanied her family's routine road trips to annual celebrations.

She noticed, too, that the van was no longer quietly rumbling but was now jostling violently from side to side. She looked through the window to try to discern what had caused this change in terrain. What she saw was astonishing. The van was traveling through a field of tall grass. It was darting in and out of hefty tree trunks, and sometimes crashing through stout bushes. The shrubbery and the tall grass kept scratching against the sides of the van. A light rain was falling, and the drops were tapping the leaves of the trees.

Marie shifted her eyes back toward the interior of the van. In the front seat, Chris was driving calmly and Russell was sitting beside him, as though nothing had changed. But Marie heard snorts and sniffling coming from the middle row of seats. She quickly stood up so she could see the faces of the three girls sitting in front of her—Morgan, Danielle, and Ariel. They were huddled together and holding hands. Their faces were red and swollen, puckered.

"What the hell is going on?" Marie demanded of her friends. "Where are we?"

"We got lost again," Russell hollered back from the front seat. "Don't worry, we'll be fine."

"We're not lost," Chris said.

"Yes, we are lost, you moron!" Sarah exploded from Gary's right.

At this outburst, the girls in the middle row started to whimper, beginning at what seemed to be the exact same time.

Chris spun his head around from the driver's seat.

"Sarah, how many times do I have to tell you to shut the fuck up. Everyone, just keep your mouths shut, I know what I'm doing, okay?!" Chris fixed his eyes on the road and drove with an expressionless face.

"Chris, you'd better be a little nicer to these girls," Gary said, sounding timid though poised. "They didn't do a single goddamn thing wrong."

Chris said nothing.

They then heard a low thunder rolling across the sky. The sound was so pervasive and prolonged that it almost felt as though it were rising up from the ground below them. Then the rain began to pour down in sheets.

"What's going on?" Marie whispered into Gary's ear, her face so close that a tuft of her hair touched his cheek.

"Chris must have made a wrong turn somewhere because we are now extremely lost," Gary whispered back just as quietly. "We haven't seen another car or person for over an hour, and our phones don't have service. And whenever one of us tries to help or speak up, Chris freaks out at us. Not that any of us would have any better idea what to do."

"How did we lose the road?"

"I'm not exactly sure what happened. For awhile we thought we were on a dirt road, but somehow the road ended without us realizing it, and the next thing we knew we had no clue where the road even was."

The van's front-left tire suddenly fell into a narrow ditch and mud splattered against the side windows. The sky was turning black, and the heavy rain continued to pummel the roof of the van. When Marie looked out the window again, it almost seemed as though they were driving through nothing but darkness—an airless, colorless abyss. But then an unseen lightning bolt flashed behind the clouds, and the green world appeared before her eyes.

Something about this burst of lightning reminded Marie that she had not thought about AIDS once since she had woken up. As if on cue, all of the thoughts climbed back in, and she started clenching her teeth. However, her attention was once again diverted by what seemed to be an even greater catastrophe: the van was sputtering, slowing down, and finally coming to a complete halt. It had run out of gas.

Everyone experienced it at the same time. That feeling of true hopelessness. When the van had been moving, each passenger enjoyed some sense of optimism, of some control over the situation. If they just kept driving, they would eventually find refuge, craft a plan, and return to Faubourg. Never had they toyed with genuine precariousness. There was always a backup plan. There was always a cell phone, or a nearby hospital or gas station, or a main road, or a safety call box. But as the eight students looked through the broad expanse of rain and grass and hanging branches to see nothing but a dense collection of trees lining the distance, all they could seem to feel or sense was the motionlessness of the van. Suddenly, they were remembering that their oldest friend was eternity itself.

Chapter 27

The van sat in frozen silence for several seconds. Then, Danielle and Ariel began to let out a low blubbering noise, which seemed the perfect siren to bring on the Apocalypse. But this inhuman rumbling soon turned into a chorus of interlacing shrieks and wails. With her face turned up to the roof, Ariel was releasing a scream that seemed to be unending. But Danielle was yelping out a succession of sharp, disjointed screeches through the paper-thin sliver that had formed between her lips. Morgan and Sarah joined them in whimpers that rose and fell only slightly. Though Marie could not cry, quarry stones were sitting on her lungs, and her heart was shaking. She felt Gary's fingertips touch her palm, and she grabbed onto his hand tightly.

Chris, meanwhile, looking back at his passengers, seemed more horrified at the panic he had created than the danger that he personally was in.

"I'll go get help," he announced suddenly and reached for the door handle.

"Are you crazy?" Russell cried from the passenger seat. "Where the hell are you gonna go?"

Chris wrenched his hand away from the handle as though it had just turned into a piece of sizzling metal.

"Well, we can't just sit here with our thumbs up our butts!" Chris declared amid the sobbing.

"We should at least wait until morning," Russell said. "When we can think straight and it's light out."

"Fuck that, man. I'll be back soon—with help." Chris tore out of the car and into the night.

"Chris! Don't go!" one of the girls screamed the moment before the door slammed shut.

Chris may have heard this voice, for he turned around to look at the van for a few seconds during the early steps of his sprint into the wilderness. But he was soon facing forward again and running without regret, at one point lifting up his forearm to shield his eyes from the rain. All then watched him disappear into the darkness.

About twenty seconds later, Russell whipped his head around to face the other passengers. He stared expectantly at their red, tightened faces, as though one of them were supposed to justify and reverse Chris' actions. Then, after making direct eye contact with Morgan, Russell suddenly cried out, "Holy shit!" and ran outside after Chris.

The girls in the middle aisle huddled together and began to whimper. Sarah got up from her seat in the back and squeezed onto the seat with them. Their cries became louder.

"How is this happening?" Sarah said. "This doesn't feel real. It feels like a horrible nightmare."

"Don't worry, guys," Gary said resolutely from the back seat. "Everything's going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine, I promise. Everything's going to be fine."

For awhile, all that could be heard other than the girls' cries was the sound of the raindrops pelting the windows.

A few minutes later everyone sat up when they heard the sound of a car door opening. Russell, drenched, had returned to the van.

"I couldn't find him!" Russell announced, hurling himself back into his seat in frustration. For several seconds, no one moved or spoke. Then, Russell kicked the plastic dashboard with the heel of his boot. "This is such fucking bullshit!" he screamed. This caused Danielle to begin crying loudly again.

"Russell," Gary said from the back, in a consoling tone. Russell slammed his fist against the passenger window, and a loud thud sounded throughout the car.

"Russell!" Gary cried, with greater urgency. But Russell continued to pound the window. At last, his fist crashed through the window as he extended his entire forearm out into the rain. A spiderweb of cracks appeared in the glass, though only a circular area around the spot where Russell had laid his fist actually shattered completely.

Russell gave a terrible howl as the glass broke, and quickly wrenched his arm back inside the car. "My arm!" he cried.

"Russell!" Danielle screamed.

He then pulled his entire body back from the window in alarm and jumped across the aisle into the driver's seat.

"Oh my god!" Russell wailed. "There's so much blood!"

The entire group was propelled into action. Morgan and Danielle rushed up front to treat the wounds. Blood was spouting from Russell's forearm and running down onto his wrist and hand. They got a white undershirt from Morgan's backpack, and after cleaning off the dripping blood, wrapped the shirt around Russell's forearm several times. The t-shirt turned light red as it soaked up the blood. Gary talked to Russell about this year's college football season in an effort to calm him down, and Marie and Ariel cleaned up the broken glass. Once they had remedied the situation the best they could, the students were so exhausted that they began curling their bodies and inching back in their seats. The storm had finally quieted down, and they listened to the rain with their eyes closed. Gradually, they became ready for sleep. The girls used each other's shoulders to rest their heads, Gary used a folded-up sweatshirt, and Russell lay his left ear on his taut seatbelt strap, which sunk beneath his weight but nevertheless supported him. Russell fell asleep first. He was snoring loudly, but no one dared to disturb him. Soon, they were all sleeping.

Chapter 28

The daylight flooding through the window took Marie slowly out of her sleep. The morning was a greatly changed picture from the night before. The trees and bushes that loomed like shadows the previous night could now be seen in full detail. The trees' branches, no longer weighed down by heavy raindrops, stretched upward toward the blue sky. The long, thin, needle-like leaves of these evergreens were sparkling and glittering underneath the sun. Birds were sailing from one treetop to the next. The wooded grassland still seemed, as it did the previous night, to spread out endlessly, though Marie could now discern a much farther distance.

As happened every morning, Marie enjoyed about two seconds of dreamy peace before being bombarded with crushing, compelling questions of whether she had HIV, whether she should get tested for HIV, and whether she should try to find another psychologist or perhaps even a psychiatrist.

With these thoughts still spinning in her mind, she sat up in her seat and looked around the car to see if anyone else was awake. She figured she was probably the only one up, as there were no conversations going on, only the sounds of long sighs, rhythmic breathing, and the occasional toss and turn.

She saw right away that Chris was back. His head had fallen so far to the right in his slumber that Marie, from her seat in the back left corner, could glimpse all but a fraction of this oval. She saw his sun-tanned neck, the square tag of his t-shirt sitting incorrectly atop the collar, and the dime-sized skin spot in the center of his scalp from which his hair spun and shot out. His tree trunk arm was relaxing on the arm rest. The arm was bulging out of his shirt, causing with each passing second an imperceptible fiber on the edge of his sleeve to slightly fray. It seemed amazing that this arm rest, this toy-like pliable piece of plastic, coated in grey leather, could support a granite slab, but of course it did.

"Guys!" Marie exclaimed from her seat. "Wake up! Chris is back! Wake up!"

"We know," Sarah muttered from beside her. She then let out a short yawn. "He came back in the middle of the night last night."

"Oh," Marie said with some disappointment.

"I think someone woke you up," Sarah said.

"I don't remember..." Marie said longingly.

"Are you guys up yet?" Sarah then said loudly. "We need to get the fuck out of here, okay?"

Just then, Russell peeked his head around the front seat. His eyes were big and round and glassy; they looked like they each had a giant tear that was stuck to them, never to fall, simply waiting forever in the wings. It was a look of childlike hopelessness.

"I think my arm's infected," he said weakly. He immediately held up his arm for everyone in the van to see.

From the back of the car, the wound was a blur of purple and red, etched with jagged lines into an unchanging field of colorless skin. Marie leaned forward over the middle seats to perceive the injury in greater detail. Sarah and Gary also leaned their heads in.

Up close, one saw quickly that the wounds from the glass had swelled up to create a series of inflamed mounds. Two or three of these were capped by little dots of yellow-green pus. In between the mounds, streaks of blood ran atop the blistery skin. Recalling the makeshift bandage from the previous night, Marie searched with her eyes for the t-shirt. It was unfurled on the floor beside Russell, now colored in patches of deep cherry, bright red, carnation, and still heavenly white in some areas.

"Yeah, that's definitely infected," Ariel said from the middle aisle.

"Holy shit, dude," said Chris.

Russell lowered his arm to his lap.

"He needs antibiotics," Marie said conclusively. "Does anyone have antibiotics?"

Nobody answered. Marie looked around at the faces in the car.

"I think I have a fever, too," Russell groaned.

"We need to do something," Morgan said firmly. She then raised her voice and shrieked, "We need to get the hell out of here!"

Everyone was quiet. The sound of the chirping birds outside filled the car.

"Let's all go outside," Marie said. "Come on, everybody up."

"Everybody out of the car," Chris bellowed. "Let's go."

The students maneuvered themselves out of the van with alacrity. Chris walked around the hood of the car and met his friends on the other side.

With the students gathered in a semicircle behind her, Marie approached the door of the front passenger seat.

"Hey, Russell. Are you sure you have a fever?" she asked him, her voice carrying through the circular opening in the glass.

Russell began to roll the window down, but then stopped himself and opened the door.

"I don't think I have a fever," Russell said, looking up at her. "I just feel like shit."

Marie put her palm on his forehead and felt the cold sweat droplets sink into her pores.

"You feel a little warm," Marie said. "Do you have chills and stuff, too?"

"Not really," Russell said. "Maybe a little."

"Sorry about this, man," Chris said, squeezing in next to Marie and patting Russell a couple of times on the thigh.

"Okay, so no one has any antibiotics?" Marie asked loudly.

"I don't think anyone has any," Ariel said.

"It'll be okay, Russell!" Sarah cheered with tender eyes.

Russell turned his head a little and rolled his eyes to their corners to look at his friends. "I'll be fine, guys," he said. "Don't get all worried."

Danielle suddenly began to cry. Nobody joined her, and this monophonic, slow, sonorous wail introduced a pathos to their plight that was not captured when the girls cried as a group the night before.

"Guys," Marie said. "Try to calm down. Russell's wound doesn't look that serious. It's just a minor infection. But we need to get out of here immediately. This forest can't be that big. It's not like we're in Africa or Siberia or something."

"I'm with Marie. Let's get the hell out of here," Sarah said, as Danielle's cries turned into unobtrusive whimpers.

"Good," Marie said. "So let's just make a run for it." Marie suddenly sensed that she had gone a minute or two without thinking about AIDS. This realization sent a slight shock through her body, and for a few seconds, she began to fear how she would live a life unsure of whether she had AIDS and to wonder whether getting a test would be in her best interests. But unexpectedly, these thoughts then crept back into the crevices of her mind, with the docility of one under command.

"Let's just keep walking until we find something," Chris said. "We really don't have a choice. Who knows how long we'll have to sit here before someone finds us? We can't take that chance. We have enough supplies to last us a few days at least. Russell, you'll be okay to walk, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he said. "It's my arm, not my leg."

As Marie studied the small pearls of cold sweat resting on his forehead, she realized how much it upset her to see another person in physical discomfort. Russell was always so loathsome; she never would have thought she'd be capable of feeling such sympathy for him.

"But what if we get lost?" Sarah asked. "You know, even more lost."

"Are you crazy?" Chris asked, glaring at her.

"It's a risk we have to be willing to take, Sarah," Marie said.

"Let's just go already," Chris said. "Too much talking. I know my boy Russell. He'll be fine."

"Agreed," Gary said.

"We'll walk in front of you, Russell," Marie said, "to protect your arm from any jutting branches or anything like that. I've also got some extra t-shirts we can use to wrap your arm. Oh! I have some antibacterial body wash in my bag. Maybe that will help with the infection if we spread it on your arm."

"You're a trip, Marie," Russell said with a grin, eyeing her. "Thanks, though."

He then turned his body toward the students and let his feet fall out of the car and onto the muddy ground. He closed the door with his uninjured arm. With the blue Peugeot minivan behind him, Russell stood tall, his wounded arm tucked against his side. He lifted his head to the air and leaned back against the passenger door. Despite his weariness, there was an unmistakable repose and self-assurance in the way he was leaning, and this posture made him look as though he had dominion over the car as he let it bear his weight.

"I've got some Advil in there too that I can give you," Marie said. She slid open the side door to the van and began to search for her backpack.

"And you can have the rest of my water," Morgan said, moving toward Russell and holding out a half-empty plastic bottle. "You should stay hydrated if you aren't feeling well."

Russell calmly took the bottle from her hands and drank a few sips.

"Okay, enough with the chit-chat," Chris said. "Let's go already. I'm feeling good about this."

The students gathered up their things and prepared Russell for the journey. Then everyone disappeared into the tall trees. As Marie pushed apart the prickly bushes and grass stalks densely packed together, she relished the limber feeling that was circulating through her blood and muscles. She smiled to herself, not for any particular reason, but simply because her body wanted to do so. And yet, because she had become so accustomed to smiling through tense cheeks, she took notice, this time, of the ease with which her smile formed. Her cheeks actually felt supple for the first time in months. Marie suddenly grew conscious of the fact that she was experiencing a feeling of mild euphoria. This awareness that she was enjoying a mental state that had become so foreign to her reminded her to think about the stimulus for the dreadful feelings that had so regularly coursed through her over the last few months—AIDS. The canisters of blood then emptied into her limbs, her body slowed, and a sour taste surfaced on her tongue. It was in this anxious condition that Marie carried her body through the woods in search of civilization.

Chapter 29

Night was descending upon the plains of France, and the students were still journeying, wading through heaps of vines and branches and bushes, stepping over roots, darting around thicket, ducking under snaking limbs. Though Marie was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, she still worried—though with less frequency as the day went along—about all of the little pests that her body, clothed or unclothed, was undoubtedly brushing up against.

You're always hearing about bugs like tarantulas and hornets and scorpions. You never come in contact with any of them in your daily life, but you know they exist. It's places like this unadulterated forest where these frightening bugs are probably hiding!

The students noticed that the concentration of plants and tree trunks was beginning to thin. They walked another fifty yards and found, to their delight, that they had come upon a glade.

"Alright, guys. Let's set up camp for the night," Marie announced. "There's no sense in continuing on when we've got a perfectly good place right here. It could be miles before we find anything like this again."

As they stood on their campsite, the group looked out onto the abyss of evergreen trees that lined the edge of the clearing. The sky was violet and blue. Long black and grey clouds were suspended in the air. The temperature was cool and the wind was blowing steadily.

Russell immediately sat down on the bare ground, and Marie brought over a few old t-shirts for him to rest his arm on.

"It looks a little better," Marie said, nodding toward Russell's forearm.

"Yeah, I think so too." Russell said. The pus around the wounds had evaporated, and the blood had dried up and turned into a series of bumpy scabs. "It actually doesn't hurt as much either."

"Do you think it was the antibacterial stuff that helped?"

"Probably. Or it could have just been ready to heal on its own."

"I should become a nurse," Marie joked.

The other students busied themselves. Gary and Chris were hopelessly trying to start a fire using a lighter, some paper, and twigs. The four girls were sitting cross-legged on the ground together. Ariel and Sarah had begun crying again, and Morgan and Danielle were trying to cheer them up by involving them in a card game.

Marie went over to her backpack to find a hooded sweatshirt for the chilly weather. "And I almost neglected to squeeze this in before I left," she thought to herself as she fished out the shirt. When her head at last came through the collar, she breathed in the night air as it blew across her face. She could taste in it the pine and wildflowers of the country.

Marie was able to feel the old thoughts creeping in again. But she could now sense the frailty of these manufactured dilemmas. Start up a conversation, she realized, and the worries would remain at bay. As she walked over to Gary and Chris, her legs became lighter with each step.

"Any luck yet?" she asked.

Chris was crouched over a collection of twigs and dead leaves.

"Nah," he said. "The twigs just won't catch. They must be damp or something. I'm gonna go get some more."

"So what do you think about all this?" Gary softly asked Marie, as Chris wandered away.

"I think we'll be all right," Marie said. "We're in France, so civilization can't be too far away. If we keep walking we'll eventually stumble on something—some farm or some road. Then all we need to do is just make some phone calls and we'll be on our way home."

Chris, still within earshot, began to shout. "Well we need to find somewhere quick, because our food is literally runnning low." He then raised his voice even further, hollering into the ground below him as his desultory search for firewood continued. "And I'm getting sick of eating candy, chips, and gum for every meal."

Gary and Marie looked at each other, and a weak smile formed on each of their worried faces.

"Are you sure you're doing okay?" Gary asked as Chris' orbit moved farther away from them.

"Yeah," Marie said. "I mean, I'm trying not to think too much about it, you know? But I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Okay. Just make sure you're careful."

"Thanks, Gary. I will. And I know I'll be okay now that I have a big strong man looking after me." She gave him a light punch on the arm, and Gary staggered backward in jest.

The sky was now dark blue, and the big yellow moon was resting above the line of faraway evergreen trees. For dinner, the students ate from Gary's snack supply and took sips from the two bottles of water not yet emptied.

"Okay, since we don't have any dessert, I thought we'd smoke a few bowls before bedtime," Chris announced to the group with a smirk. He pulled a sealed plastic bag out of his pocket.

"I'm really not in the mood for that," Morgan said. "How can you not be terrified at a time like this?"

"I am. Believe me I am. But I think this will help us all to relax a little. We need to keep a positive attitude, you know?" Chris said. "I'm sure we'll be okay."

"Count me out," Gary said. "I get too hungry."

"Oh, that's a good point!" Danielle said. "I get so hungry. No way."

"Well, I'm down," Russell said from the ground. "Maybe it'll help my arm feel better."

The group heaved a low chuckle and began crowding around Chris to take hits from his colorful glass pipe. Soon the sweet, pungent aroma had permeated the air, and a few participants had bloodshot eyes after having taken just one puff.

"We should have used that to start the fire," Marie said with a grin.

The students laughed.

"You don't want any, Marie?" Sarah asked, seeing that Marie had let the circling pipe pass over her for the second time.

"No, I'm alright," Marie said.

"You worried about getting the munchies, too?" Chris asked.

"No, I don't smoke actually," Marie said. "I get paranoid."

Chris chuckled. "Paranoid? I don't think you have to worry about any cops out here." He continued to laugh.

"Not paranoid like that. I start worrying that, like, the weed is laced or something, and that I'm going to die," Marie said, grinning and looking around the circle.

"Really?" Ariel asked.

"Marie, you are too funny," Sarah said. "Why do you worry about that stuff?"

"I mean, I don't think it's that weird a thing to worry about. It's pretty logical, right? We have no idea where the pot is coming from, and it's not like anyone inspects it or purifies it—"

"Marie!" Danielle jumped in. "Why would a drug dealer want to lace pot? That would just cost him extra money. Do you realize how expensive cocaine is? Someone wouldn't want to just give that away for free. I've thought about what you're saying before, too, but come on."

"Alright already. Just forget I even said anything. Jeez," Marie said.

"You just crack me up," Danielle said, giving Marie a warm glance.

The smokers were all enjoying a light high. Chris offered to pack another bowl, but he was refused. Everyone claimed to have already had enough.

"No, I mean, I think I understand where Marie's coming from," Sarah said. She was certainly high, but her face bore a morose expression that contrasted with the contented looks of the others. "I worry about weird stuff like that, too."

Nobody probed further.

"Yeah, like, especially when I'm high, I become obsessed with, like, I don't know, dying," Sarah continued. "I am just so scared of death."

Sarah put her head between her wrists and began to pout. Danielle walked across the circle, sat next to Sarah, and began rubbing her friend's back.

Chris looked bewildered. "What do you mean you're afraid of death?"

Sarah peered up at Chris. She was sobbing. "It's just when I get high. I don't know. It's just so scary to think that one day all of us will die—that no matter what, the day will come where we'll have to die. And now that we're out here and our lives are seriously at risk, my thoughts about death are just spinning out of control."

"Look," Russell began. "Nobody's dying, okay? We're going to be fine. Stop saying that. These woods can't go on forever. We'll be out of here soon enough."

"I know. I'm sorry, guys," Sarah said.

"So why do you smoke then?" Chris asked. "If it just gets you upset?"

"I don't know why I do," Sarah said. "I guess it's because I kind of like the pain sometimes. And I only get like this some of the time when I'm high. It still feels really good and it's really fun for me."

"So you don't believe in an afterlife?" Ariel asked earnestly.

"No," Sarah said. "I don't."

"Well, I do," Ariel said.

"I'll admit that sometimes I worry about death," Russell said. "But, I mean, I'll get all worried about it for a few seconds, and then I'll start thinking about something else—about girls I like or what I'm having for dinner that night—and then I won't really be worried about it anymore."

"Yeah, I'd say that's how I am too," Gary said.

"Same with me," Sarah said. "It's only when I get high that it begins to feel so overpowering."

"I like these deep conversations!" Morgan said with a childlike smile.

Everyone laughed, and then there was a pause.

"The way I see it," Marie began. Her voice was trembling. "Death is sort of irrelevant. I mean, I definitely don't believe in an afterlife. But think about all of those years before you were alive. Were they that bad? Remember the seventies? Were the seventies that bad?"

A few of the students laughed quietly.

"Yeah, I sort of see what you're saying," Sarah said. "Anyway, enough about this depressing stuff. We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves and making the best of this situation."

"Agreed," Chris said.

The conversation turned to memories of one's first kiss, old television shows, and freshman dorm antics. Within thirty minutes, all had closed their eyes and fallen asleep.

Marie awoke several hours later, when the sky was black and clouds were racing past the moon. She heard a rustling noise coming from somewhere at the edge of the clearing. Then, from the same location, came the sound of clattering, bristling teeth. What was it? Was it a wolf? A coyote perhaps? Marie could feel her toes curling in her socks. Should she wake the others? Should she investigate? What was going to happen to them out here? As she was thinking and listening, the sound faded and then went away completely. Marie closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. It took about fifteen minutes for her body to relax, and then she enjoyed a few hours of slumber.

Chapter 30

When Marie woke up the next morning, she felt something cool rubbing against her lower leg. She immediately worried that it would be a large, grotesque insect.

To her horror, she looked down to see a snake coiled up and resting its body on her lower shin. The tip of its tail had extended onto her rolled-up pant leg and went almost all the way up to her knee. The snake's body was white, made up of hundreds of smooth, slippery scales. Its head was hovering in the air like a bumblebee. Its thin, purple tongue was darting in and out of its mouth tempestuously, and the black slits of its icy blue eyes were fixed on her. Marie screamed and thrashed her legs. The snake took a sharp bite out of her exposed shin and then hissed at everyone in the group. While continuing to hiss, it slithered back into the shrubbery and whipped its tail a few times before vanishing from sight.

At once, Marie turned to see if anyone had just seen what happened. Everyone was staring at her, except for Chris and Danielle, who were still sleeping.

"Did you guys see that?" Marie cried in terror.

No one answered, although Marie could tell from their expressions that they had witnessed the snakebite.

"A snake just bit me!" Marie said. "What am I going to do?" Again, these questions met only terrible stares.

"This is really bad," Marie continued. "What if the snake is poisonous?"

"You're fine," Russell said with gentleness. "I grew up with two pet snakes. You're fine."

"What do you mean?" Marie asked. She then noticed that healthy-looking maroon scabs were covering the series of wounds he had sustained.

"Look, the vast majority of snakes are not poisonous," Russell explained. "And even the ones that are poisonous generally just make you sick—they don't actually kill you or anything."

"But what if this one is poisonous? And I don't want to get sick!" Marie could feel a lump forming in the back of her throat.

Sarah rushed over to Marie to comfort her.

"Come on, Marie. I know you're scared, but you will be fine, I'm so sure of it. You need to be strong. You're not going to get sick. You're not going to die. What Russell said is true. Most snakes are not poisonous. Go with the odds. We'll obviously get you medical attention as soon as we get out of here, but you're not even going to need it."

Sarah walked over to Chris and Danielle and began shaking them out of their sleep.

"Come on, guys. Get up. We're getting out of here this instant!"

Marie watched as her group mobilized, preparing once again to trek through the wilderness. She looked down at her shin. She saw two drops of bright red blood in the spots where the snake had laid its fangs. Even though the beady drops were tiny, more or less the size of pupils, they were as arresting as alarm bells. The eye simply could not ignore the brightness of that particular, irreplacable shade of red. Marie used an old sock to wipe the area clean of blood. Then she took some of her antibacterial body wash and rubbed it around the wounded area.

"It will be okay," Marie told herself. "I'm sure it's not poisonous."

The students were now ready to continue their journey. But as soon as Marie put her foot forward, she felt her heart plummet. What if it is poisonous?

The thought that she could be dead—that she could die on a plain in Normandy—in a matter of days or perhaps hours left her terrified. And even if she were to survive the snakebite, how would she protect herself from the many other dangers that lurked in this forest? What would she do about the roaming packs of wild animals, or the absence of food and the scarcity of rainwater? Where would she find antibiotics if she were to come down with an infection? And what about the snakebite?

Driven solely by the desire to remain alive and healthy, Marie walked briskly at the front of the itinerant group. For the rest of the day, they marched and trudged. They trudged until the sky darkened. They watched the sun bubble up from the east, move along its arc, and dip down again.

They walked for over fifteen miles that day. Indeed, several times they had to stop so that the students—predominantly Danielle, Ariel, and Morgan—could rest their tired legs. During these breathers, Marie was always the first to lean in meekly and ask, "Are you guys ready yet?" She was the one who'd walk backward from the front of the line, calling out with a smile, "Would you guys mind walking a little faster?"

"As long as we keep walking, we'll eventually stumble upon something," Marie told herself. The area around her snakebite was turning red and beginning to swell.

Several times during that day's journey, the thought of AIDS and mouth cuts and testing jumped into Marie's mind. But these came in as if only on habit, for they jumped out just as quickly as they entered.

In the twilight, the students set up camp. It was now their third night in the woods. Their legs were so exhausted that they didn't make themselves comfortable nests to sleep in. They simply fell onto the dirt and closed their eyes. After sleeping on the ground for a few hours, they awoke. Half asleep, they crawled in search of something soft to sleep on and eventually found each other. Chests, stomachs, thighs—all became pillows.

Their sleepy, half-conscious states let them feel peace throughout the night, but waking up the next morning, everyone felt miserable. They were hungry. Their stomachs were gnawing at their sides. They had eaten only chips, pretzels, and candy for the last two days, and for breakfast that morning they quickly devoured all that remained—a long white chocolate Toblerone bar. Now all they had left was Gary's vast supply of cinnamon-flavored Trident. With this gum, and with the toothbrushes and mouthwash that they continued to use daily, their mouths felt cool and breezy. And because they'd all remembered to pack deodorant, their scents remained for the most part unobtrusive.

Still, it was obvious that they had been rolling around with nature. Much of their clothing was splattered with mud and grass; the boys had beards coming in; and on some of their faces, dirt had accumulated in the creases around their eyes and along the wrinkles of their foreheads.

*

Overnight, the area around her snakebite had swelled to the size of a golf ball. "This could be the last day of my life," Marie told herself. "I could die of this snakebite at any second."

Yet, despite these catastrophic predictions, Marie's body, while not relaxed—she was still in great fear after all—was enjoying a freedom of which it had been deprived all semester. For during the last few days, and especially since receiving the snakebite, Marie found herself exhaling long and powerful breaths about every twenty minutes, as though each breath carried with it weeks' worth of gripping tension and anxiety. And though her heart was often pumping fast, her limbs didn't feel heavy anymore. It was as though all of that blood were somehow now being put to good use and had no time to stagnate. Of course, she still longed for her days as a teen or a child, when the cool and kindly breeze seemed to come directly from Zephyr's outstretched lips; but she was grateful that these light winds no longer brought with them icy, feverish flashes. Her body was no longer the battleground on which two equally attractive arguments would forever make their case; it was now a useful machine, shiny, sleek, and overworked, prepped for one purpose, geared to do what it had always wanted—to take flight.

With backpacks slung on their shoulders, the students were continuing their march. When they first set out for London, their bags were brimming with luggage, packed with stuff. They had been ready to put on shiny leather jackets and mascara and parade down Picadilly Circus, paired off and arms linked, their eyes made dreamy by the walls of neon lights. Skipping in their tall boots and high heels from Piccadilly to Mayfair, they would stumble up to the long line leading out from that night's dance club. Imitating English accents, pulling at their dresses, laughing into the cool nighttime air, they passed the time as the line moved slowly. Finally at the front, the group with the bundle of fit American girls would have no trouble getting in, but the bouncer would unknowingly step aside just a second ahead of pace. He had glimpsed the delicate curls sitting on the ends of Morgan's hair, and instantly turned subservient.

But now they were slogging. And each time they felt a bug crawling across their foreheads, each time they couldn't help but let the mud come up to their ankles, each time another blister sprouted on the bottoms of their feet, their bags became a little bit lighter. First went the reading material—the Sudoku books, the Cosmos, the classic novels. Next to go were the essential accessories that now seemed to the students like purposeless hindrances, items like the umbrellas, handbags, wristlets, and wide corset belts. While the students held onto the fundamental toiletries—everyone wanted their mouths clean and their bodies fresh—they soon shed all of their beauty supplies. Flat irons, blow dryers, conditioners, gels, mousses, and sprays sunk into the mud to become fossilized. The expensive jewelry and the electronics always had a place in the bags, since the iPods were miniature, and the jewelry was sacred. But certain articles of clothing could find no justifiable reason for remaining with a pack of youths whose habitat had floors of slime and whose needs and wishes had become utterly primal. So out went the shrunken blazers, the square-toed leather loafers, and all heels not bearing names like Prada or Christian Loubitoun.

"You guys," Ariel said from the back of the group. "I don't want to die out here!"

"Ariel, that's not helping anyone!" Sarah cried. "No one's going to die, okay? Everyone's going to be fine, okay?"

"But what if we die?" Ariel wailed. "And I'm so hungry! I want food." She began to pout. "I want calamari and risotto and Parmesan cheese."

"Ariel, would you be quiet?" Russell said. "You're making me hungry. I can't take this anymore!"

"Shut up, Russell," Morgan said. "If it wasn't for you and Chris, we wouldn't be in this mess right now."

"Please stop fighting, guys," Gary said. "We've got to work together on this."

"Gary's right," Marie said. "We need to work together. I really think we'll be okay, even though I have this snakebite that may or may not be poisonous, even though we're out of food. But there's definitely still plenty of hope. We just can't be that lost. We're in a First World country. We should stumble upon something sooner or later. We have to."

"Everyone just shut the fuck up and walk!" Danielle screamed from the back of the line. Her voice was broken and hysterical. Her eyes were full of tears. "We're all going to die out here unless you guys shut the fuck up and walk!"

The students plodded forward, twigs and dead leaves crunching beneath their shoes.

*

The snacks, while unhealthy and insubstantial, had at least been able to keep their stomachs from becoming restless. But now they were down to nothing, and by the early afternoon they were speaking to each other only of food. The hunger was getting to them.

"Let's just go kill an animal," Chris said.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Danielle asked. "I mean, do you think you even could?"

"Sure, why not? I am so hungry. I am starving. My stomach will not stop making noises. Don't worry, I hunted down an animal in boy scouts once."

"How are we going to start a fire?" Morgan asked. "Rubbing sticks together or something?"

"I'll use my lighter again," Chris said. "I'm sure it'll work this time. The sun dried everything out today."

"I don't care as long as I don't have to kill anything," Sarah said.

"I'm with Chris," Russell said.

"Me too," Gary said.

"Alright, then let's do it," Chris said. "The guys will go. The girls should just stay here."

The five girls exchanged glances with one another. "Are you sure you'll be able to get back without getting lost?" Sarah asked. "How will you find your way back here?"

"We won't venture too far," Chris said. "You'll still be able to see us. We'll be fine. Come on, guys. Let's go."

The five girls sat down with their legs crossed and formed a small circle. As she watched Chris, Russell, and Gary walk away, Marie said to the girls, "This is so funny. We are like back in primitive times. They're the hunters and we're the gatherers."

The girls chuckled.

"I feel bad for the animal though."

"We have no choice at this point, Marie," Danielle said quickly, as though she had somehow anticipated Marie's comment.

"I guess," Marie said softly, as the group became quiet.

In their silence, Marie stared at each of their faces. How different they looked with faded makeup, swollen eyes, and dirt-streaked cheeks. They looked so tired without fresh eyeliner around their eyes. They were still pretty, though less so, and in a more subdued way.

"When we get back to Faubourg, I'm going to soak in a hot bubble bath for three hours. I don't care how mad my host mom gets," Morgan announced to the group.

"You mean if we get back to Faubourg," Ariel said.

"Ariel, stop saying things like that," Danielle said. "We're all trying to stay optimistic. It's been raining at least once a day, and people can go a long time without eating. I think, like, three weeks. So just stop."

"Chill, Danielle," Ariel said.

"How's your snakebite, Marie?" Sarah asked.

"Well, it's still all swollen, but it hasn't really gotten worse, so I suppose that's good," Marie said.

"Are you still worried about it?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, I mean, I've been freaking out inside my head, but I've been trying pretty hard not to let that on to anyone. Yeah, I'm definitely frightened. I just can't believe we're even out here like this. I mean, how is this really happening?"

Everyone nodded their heads in response to Marie's comments, but no one spoke.

"I am so hungry," Morgan then said. "I would do anything for nachos right now."

"Me too," Danielle said. "Or for tacos. Mmm..."

"I actually used to like the feeling when my stomach would growl," Morgan said, placing her palm onto her abdomen. "But this is almost painful."

"Okay. Guys, stop talking about food and how hungry you are. We'll go nuts," Sarah said. "Why don't we do something to make the time go faster?"

"Do you want to play a game?" Morgan asked.

"I guess," Sarah said. "I don't think I'm really up for something like that. What if we just lie on each other... and think about our favorite memories. And we can take turns sharing."

"Ooh, that sounds nice," Danielle said. She curled up on the grass but kept her head and neck raised upwards. In a moment of patience, she watched with eager eyes to see whose body would tumble down next to hers and provide her head with a cushion.

*

About 100 yards away, Gary, Russell, and Chris were scanning the vicinity for prey.

"How are we going to kill it?" Gary asked, looking first at Russell and then at Chris.

Russell laughed and then turned serious. "That's a good question, Gary. Chris, how are we going to kill it?"

Chris smiled. "If it's a slow animal, we have to just run up to it, grab it, and kill it—with our bare hands."

"I'm pretty sure most animals can run faster than us," Gary said.

"If we find the right animal, we'll be able to outrun it," Chris said. "Otherwise, we need to get some rocks to throw at the speedy ones."

"Well, I don't see any animals out here," Russell said. "Or any rocks."

"That's 'cause you're not looking," Chris said in return. "I've already seen tons of squirrels and raccoons out here. And what about those deer we saw yesterday!"

They continued surveying. All they saw was plant life. Every ten seconds or so, some sort of rodent would scamper across the plain. Upon seeing this greyish-brown patch whiz by, the boys would lurch forward quickly, only to give up just a few seconds later.

"Let's just forget it," Gary said after about a half hour of failed attempts. "We're not going to nab anything."

"But we can't go back to those girls empty-handed!" Chris cried.

"We're going to have to," Gary said, staring at Ariel's turquoise sweatshirt. From this distance it was no more than a rectangular blur, like a bright bird high up in the trees.

"It looks like there are some berries on these bushes," Russell said. He nodded toward a cluster of bushes just a few feet away from him. "But they're probably poisonous. "

He motioned Chris and Gary over to the bushes. The berries hanging off the thin branches were made up of dozens of tiny black and red spheres with little stems popping out of their surfaces.

"These look just like the blackberries you get in the supermarket," Chris said, taking a berry in between the tips of his fingers and studying it. "Just like them. These aren't poisonous."

"That's not all that reassuring, Chris," Gary said.

"Are you serious, man? These are just regular blackberries."

"How do you know?"

"Are you blind? Look at them. Besides, have you looked around? We have bigger things to worry about right now than berries. Fuck it." He popped a few in his mouth.

Gary and Russell stared at him wide-eyed.

He laughed as he munched on them slowly. "Eat up, guys. These are just plain vanilla blackberries. Come on, guys, eat up." He began scouring the bush for more fruit.

Gary looked at Russell in hesitation.

"Are you going to eat them?" Gary asked Russell.

"Stop being pussies, guys," Chris said as he dropped a few berries into his mouth. "They're 100% not poisonous. I know what fucking blackberries taste like, okay?"

Gary shrugged in acquiescence. "I can't believe I've reached this point in my life." He then approached the bush and plucked off a berry to eat. He rolled it around in his mouth and took a few tentative bites. "Wow, man, you're definitely right," he said excitedly. He immediately reached for a few more from the bush. "They're kind of sour, but they're still decent," he said as he chomped down on the squishy fruits.

"I told you, man," Chris said, bringing a palmful of berries to his lips. "They're terrible and awesome at the same time." He flashed Gary a grin.

"These are actually just regular blackberries?" Russell said in disbelief.

"Yeah, man!" Gary said.

Chris looked at Russell and nodded his head knowingly.

"God, I'm hungry," Russell said breathlessly. He then stepped up to the bush and began plucking.

"I'm going to take a quick walk around and see how many more bushes there are," Chris said. He took off his white baseball cap for a moment and wiped some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "You guys can stay here."

*

"It's just this one cluster of bushes from what I can tell," Chris hollered to Russell and Gary as he was walking up to them. "I feel like I'm looking for a needle in a haystack out there." He quickly noticed that Russell and Gary had moved on to the second bush and that each was chewing a mouthful of berries while continuing to scour. "Guys, be easy with those! We need to take some back to the girls. There are a lot of bushes here, but we have to make sure everyone gets their fair share."

After a few more minutes of eating and collecting, the three boys walked back to the girls, their sweaty shirts full of berries. The girls were still lying on their backs, but they sat up when they saw the boys approaching.

"What are you doing?" Chris asked them, waddling gingerly up to the circle in order to keep the berries intact.

"Nothing," Sarah answered. "Please tell me you got food. My legs feel so weak."

"We hit the jackpot," Chris said.

"You caught something?" Marie asked with fearful shock.

"We couldn't," Gary said. "But we brought you back some blackberries instead."

"Blackberries?" Morgan said. "But aren't they going to be poisonous?"

"Nah, they're fine," Russell said. "They're the ones you buy in the supermarket."

"How the hell did you find regular blackberries?" Sarah asked. "I'll bet they're poisonous."

"No, they're the real thing. You can tell just by looking at them, see?"

Russell knelt down among the girls and allowed them to crowd in and look.

"They're fine, guys," Chris said, sensing their hesitancy.

The boys' words and the blackberries' semblance were convincing, for the girls were soon eating berries by the mouthful. The girls all agreed that these exotic fruits were really just regular blackberries, even though they were nowhere near as sweet and juicy as the ones in stores. There were about a dozen of these bushes within the cluster, so when the students returned to load up on more berries, each was able to grab several more large handfuls for the trip ahead. Before leaving, they spent about fifteen minutes seeing if they could locate another cluster of berry bushes in the area. Finding nothing, they returned to the original bush. Deep within the cluster, some berries had fallen to the ground that the students had not gotten their hands on yet. They sent Ariel and Marie inside to retrieve them. A few minutes later, the girls crawled out, evenly distributed the twenty or so berries, and then everyone gathered together to hike.

*

They journeyed into the evening but continued to find no markers of civilized life. The sun was now dipping below the cranberry-colored mountains and casting a fiery glow over the landscape. All the way down the towering pines, the green leaves were glittering. The whirling cypresses were swaying in the warm wind, back and forth, asymmetrically, so delicately that they seemed as light as floating clouds. Then came true twilight, when the last sunrays shot across the mountaintops. These red and orange streams seemed to drape the forest in a sugary glaze. They dripped like thick nectar from the branches of the spruce trees, coating the leaves, trickling onto the fallen pine cones and the twigs and finally spilling onto the grass, so that soon the whole Earth looked like it had received the touch of a magic wand.

Before long the stars were popping out in the dark blue sky, and the students stopped to set up camp. Marie then lay down on the bumpy earth, nestled her head into Ariel's soft stomach, and closed her eyes. She could hear Russell and Chris whispering to each other, and far above that, the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind.

"Can I sleep on you, Marie?" she heard someone ask.

Marie opened her eyes to see Morgan standing before her with a small bundle of clothes in her arms.

"Sure," Marie said. She waited as Morgan got comfortable. Then she closed her eyes again. Ariel's stomach began to rumble beneath Marie's ear. This rumbling was so forceful that Marie thought she felt her entire head vibrate for a moment. She inched her head around Ariel's abdomen and let her muscles relax. It was only her extreme exhaustion that allowed her mind to replace its cravings for food with those absurd thoughts and images that signal the onset of sleep.

Chapter 31

Marie's eyes opened lazily the next morning. With her head on the ground, she calmly glimpsed the tree line for a few seconds before recalling her snakebite. She then sat up as though from a nightmare. The swelling appeared to have increased from the previous day, and Marie wondered whether the venom was slowly making its way to her heart. She sprang to her feet.

"Get up, guys!" she shouted to the group. Walking around the campsite, Marie rubbed each traveler's back in order to rouse him. "Get up, guys! We need to keep moving or we're really going to be in trouble."

Slowly, each made himself stand. A few of the students wandered over to the edges of the clearing to relieve themselves. The ones who remained were gargling with mouthwash and packing some clothes into their bags. "This is such bullshit," Ariel said as she looked down at the small puddle of green liquid she had spit onto the ground.

Soon, the students were ready for what was now their fourth day of hiking.

The appearances of the students had become beggarly. Danielle's brown sheepskin boots were nearly destroyed. The boots were covered in mud, and through cracks in the boots' seams bursts of white wool were sticking out. Russell's beard, always no more than motionless stubble, had now grown to the point where little hairs were curling over the edge of his upper lip. Large yellow sweat stains had surfaced on the armpits of Gary's white t-shirt. And even though the sporadic rainfalls provided them with water, some had simply stopped washing their faces. Chris might have looked like a miner, were the dirt planted on his cheeks just a little more concentrated. The berries had left black and violet smears around the corners of their mouths in varying degrees.

The hunger and thirst had become oppressive. Everyone prayed that the grey clouds beginning to appear in the late afternoon signaled a rainstorm.

"I would eat anything," Russell announced once they had begun hiking. "What I would do for one of those tomato and mozzarella paninis they make back in Faubourg. I literally could eat twenty of those right now. But forget the paninis. At this point, I would gorge myself on food I despise. I would eat baby carrots! I would eat olives!"

"Would you shut up, man?" Chris cried. "This is hard enough already. We don't need you talking about food, making it worse."

"How is it that there's still nothing?" Sarah demanded. "Where the hell are we? I thought we were in France."

"Maybe we're dead," said Marie. "Maybe we died in a car accident and now we're all in heaven—actually, this is probably more like Hades or Purgatory."

"Maybe I want some food," Morgan said in response.

"Let's play a game to keep our minds off food," Gary said. "Oh, I know! Let's play 'Twenty Questions.' Who wants to start?"

"I can start," Marie said excitedly after waiting a few moments. She was thinking of Canterbury Cathedral, a structure that Professor Butler had spent a truly excessive amount of time instructing his students on after returning from a long weekend with his wife visiting English churches.

"I don't want to play any games!" Danielle screamed. "I want food. I want water. I want to get out of this place!"

"Just play the goddamn game, Danielle," Russell said. "It'll help."

The day grew white and foggy. The students became excited, for the blankets of clouds, continually piling on top of one another, seemed ready to burst with rain. But the rain did not come down. They walked a little longer. Their vision was becoming very obscured by the fog. They could still see one another, but their eyes would look no further. Was the concentration above descending upon them?

"Okay, maybe we are in heaven now," Marie joked, looking quickly over at Morgan.

"If this was heaven, I wouldn't be this hungry and thirsty," Chris said.

They plodded on, through the trees and the valleys, the grass and the rocks.

"I don't think I can go on anymore," Ariel said. "My tongue literally feels like sandpaper."

She started to slow down.

"Well, the best cure for that is to find help, so you've got to keep moving," Chris said. He fell back a few paces and walked beside Ariel. He guided her forward with his hand until she seemed to be moving with more sturdiness.

"Holy..." Gary said, coming to a halt. "Guys, stop. What's that?"

"Oh my God," Sarah said. "Do you guys see that, too?"

"I see it!" Morgan said. "I have no clue what in the world it is, but I see it! Jesus, I see it!"

"What is that?" Sarah asked again.

Etched into the mountain of swirling clouds stood a colossal silhouette. Its asymmetrical, bulky shape sat awkwardly in the sky, as though the shadowy figure, somehow aware of its conspicuousness, were trying to blend in, however unsuccessfully. Like moths to a bulb, the students began moving toward the great mass.

Indeed, the outline took on the shape of some sort of large fortress or castle. It seemed pretty clear at least that the structure was manmade. But perhaps their eyes were misleading them. Perhaps they were looking at no more than a mountain. Why would such a formidable colossus emerge in the center of sprawling backwoods? How did they encounter the citadel before the hut? They walked faster toward the mysterious outline, not knowing what would be revealed when the hazy clouds turned transparent.

"Whatever it is, they'd better have food there," Chris said.

"Chris, please don't get my hopes up!" Morgan exclaimed with some anger in her voice.

"It has to be something," Sarah said. "It has to be."

"It will be," Ariel said. "Have faith, guys. Come on!"

They were now practically jogging, four in the front row and four in the back, as all sought simultaneously to take the lead. Indeed, the students were surprised at how well they could still exert themselves, their bodies emptied of food and water. But the thick fog refused to unveil to the students the details of the towering silhouette.

"Please let this be something," Marie thought to herself, gulping puffs of air down deep into her lungs. "Please let there be food, and water. Please let there be these things!" She began to run faster, slowly overtaking the other students. Though her legs felt heavy from the days of wandering, she sensed within them an irrepressible vigor, a bubbling of lifeblood forever prepared to combat even the most enervating feelings of fatigue. "Please, let it be a castle, or a power plant, or a mansion, or a rescue station—just so long as it's not a mountain!"

They continued to run, like a pack of dogs, weaving in and out of trees, crushing twigs and dodging large rocks. Still, the figure remained shaded, leaving the students perplexed and their safety still precarious. But they could feel themselves nearing their object, and they knew that the apparition would soon reveal itself to them.

The fog was beginning to thin, allowing the students to perceive the silhouette with greater clarity. But still no one could identify this black, domineering shape rising far above the trees.

Then, without warning, everyone in the group suddenly halted, and about half the students let out an almost haunting gasp in near unison.

"Did anybody else see that?" Sarah asked.

"I saw it!" Morgan screamed with exuberance. "I saw it!"

"Did it just light up?" Marie cried triumphantly. "Did it just light up?!"

The obscured silhouette had become a steady white light that was flickering proudly. This was clearly no mountain they were staring at.

This promising sight encouraged the students to begin running at full speed toward this lighthouse in the wilderness. The boys, of course, forced themselves to slow down a little in order to let the girls keep pace with them. They were all giggling like children.

"We're saved!" Morgan cried, bubbly saliva appearing in her mouth. "We're gonna be okay!"

As they neared their destination, they began to see that it was a series of individual lights that comprised the formerly homogenous glow. Still, they could not judge what exactly it was that lay before them. It seemed to be some sort of castle or cathedral—but why such incandescence and pomp amidst barren darkness? So the running went on, the structure growing more mammoth-like with each step, the glow becoming increasingly variegated.

As the ground was turning soggy, and muddy water was splashing repeatedly against their ankles, the moment of recognition at last came. They could now clearly see the structure's outline. They could see towers and steeples with triangular and cone-shaped roofs, and they sensed that the black rectangles in the walls were dozens of little windows. Finally, they were able to see the central spire—the structure's centerpiece—rising grandly to the clouds.

"It's the Mont-Saint-Michel!" Marie shouted in a voice louder than she had used the entire trip. "I'd know it anywhere. Oh my God, that's the Mont-Saint-Michel!"

"Oh my lord, Marie. It is!" Morgan screamed.

"What is it?" Russell asked. His expression and the tone of his voice made it clear that he was prepared to celebrate no matter what response he received.

Everyone gathered around Marie and Morgan with exuberant faces.

"It's the Mont-Saint-Michel. It's a major tourist trap!" Marie said. "It's really famous. And it's right near the Normandy beaches. People come from all over the world to see it."

"Jesus Christ, that's definitely it!" Morgan said. "I can't believe it! It's known for being just this huge castle in the middle of nowhere, like something out of a fairy tale. That's definitely it!" She clapped her hands.

"So we're saved!" Chris cried. "We're saved!"

"We are!" Morgan cheered. She clapped her hands again and found Marie and Ariel on each of her sides. The three dropped their bags and, with full smiles on their faces, locked hands and began jumping and skipping together in the circle their bodies had created. They moved with such ease and elegance that their dance would have appeared rehearsed to the uninformed eye.

"I love you guys!" Ariel cried.

Everyone then began frolicking with Morgan, Ariel, and Marie, grasping tightly the hands of their neighbors and circling in unison.

"So I guess we won't be checking out the Normandy beaches!" Gary said as the group spun around.

Everyone laughed with cheer. They continued circling with clasped fingers.

"Gary!" Marie said from the other side of the circle. "I don't think we'll have time if we have to catch that train in Rennes at eight!"

"I think we can make it!" Gary said, his eyes fixed on Marie.

Marie looked back at him, and seemed to be at once smiling exclusively for him and for the entire world. All Gary could think about at that moment was how adorable Marie looked when she was laughing with joy.

Chapter 32

They were still a few miles away from the island monastery, but the students felt as though they were already dwelling in their refuge, sitting by the fireside after a fresh shower and a hot meal. They could not contain their jubilation. When the circle they were dancing in broke apart, the students, bursting with glee, soon rejoined hands, this time creating two separate lines that began charging toward the monastery. They were giggling like excited children, yelling out nonsensical remarks that somehow seemed completely apt in the context of simple ecstasy.

"Yay!" Morgan was yelling repeatedly. "Yay!"

Chris had taken his shirt off and was now twirling it around in the air. Gary and Russell, moved by this sight, removed their shirts too, and began circling them in the air like lassoes.

"Hip-hip-hooray!" Gary cried. "Hip-hip-hooray!" Gary and Russell sang together.

But Marie seemed the happiest of all. She had her arms around the shoulders of Sarah and Ariel as they marched forward, and not one seemed to mind that their closely packed line of three was causing them to continually trip over one another. Tears were dripping down their faces; chortles and cackles were peeking through their lips.

Despite the adrenaline bubbling in their veins, the bags on their backs and the fatigue in their legs made their bodies move slower than the speed at which their hearts wanted to run. But the rush still kept them at a high-powered pace, allowing them to reach the monastery's shores in less than a half-hour's time.

But when the students at last reached the monastery's gates, no one was there to greet them. Indeed, at first glance the space inside appeared entirely deserted. They peered through the bars into the small courtyard that lay on the other side. A polished, wooden sign posted into the ground read "WC" with an arrow pointing to the left. Another sign with an arrow pointing in the opposite direction read "Le Mont." There was a vacant ticket counter with windows for five separate clerks. A panel of pamphlets and brochures stood at the far end of the counter. Past the counter, one could see one of the foundation stones of the castle. These hefty reddish-brown stones welded together made up a wall. Midway up the wall, "MONT-SAINT-MICHEL" was etched across a long piece of smooth-faced rock, just above a pair of gated windows. A trashcan and a mailbox sat at the foot of the wall, almost directly under the engraved words.

"Well, this is anti-climactic," Marie joked.

"There have to be people here," Sarah said, her face a few inches from the bars. "We could see as we approached that all the lights were on. They might just be closed for the day. Hopefully someone will see us so we don't have to wait until morning for them to open the gates."

"Until the morning?" Morgan shrieked. "I am not waiting another second out here! What kind of sick joke is this?"

"Yeah, we're not waiting," Chris said. "Let's just yell until someone comes down to get us. They'll hear us through those windows. Help! Help!"

"Help us!" Russell joined him. He walked back a few paces and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Is anyone there?!" he bellowed upward.

Now all of the students were screaming. "Help!" they screamed together. "Help!"

Russell grabbed the bars and started shaking them. This created an urgent, rattling sound. Chris and Gary gripped the bars as well and started rattling them, increasing the noise so that it became difficult to tell which was louder—the students' cries or the clanging metal.

A few minutes passed, and the scene remained just as lifeless as before. It was getting dark, and as their surroundings became less visible, the sound of the wind and the waves became louder in their ears. The boys, though they had stopped shaking the bars, continued to yell with the same strength. But the girls' voices were waning.

"Why won't anyone come help us?" Morgan said with a sob. "Don't make me drink this disgusting seawater tonight. Why won't you come help us?"

She then slumped down on the pavement as if to say that there was nothing else she could do. Sarah and Ariel sat beside her. Danielle and Marie walked over to the three, but chose to stand rather than sit. They turned their bodies away from the wind.

A strong, sudden gust caused the water to smack against the rocky shores. Danielle was smoothing her fluttering skirt when she noticed a few huddled figures emerging from the deep shadows.

She calmly gathered everyone's attention. "I think I see someone coming," she said.

The girls got up, and everyone approached the gate.

"I'm sure this is someone," Chris said. "It's probably a security guard."

"I think so too," Danielle said.

Out of the dark came three men in silky white robes.

"Hey!" Russell cried.

"Help us get in here! Please!" Ariel demanded.

But the three men did not answer. They continued walking toward them, silent and stoical, trancelike.

"Can they see us?" Gary whispered sideways to Marie, but Marie said nothing, her eyes fixed on the approaching apparitions.

Soon, the three robed men reached the iron gate. They gripped the thin bars, and stared out at their visitors. One of them began to speak.

"Bonjour, je peux vous aider ?"

"English," Chris said in a low, impatient voice. "Do you speak English."

"I speak English a little bit well," the same man said. "But it is for my two brothers only French." It became apparent with these words that this monk would be the spokesman for the trio. "How do I help you? You are Americans, no? You know we are closed?"

Ariel burst to the center and grabbed the bars right in front of the man's face.

"Thank God you speak English! We've been out in the woods for days! We are starving and so thirsty."

"You are in the wood?" the man asked them. "What means this?"

"The woods!" Morgan shrieked. "The trees, nature, the wilderness. We haven't been able to eat!"

"Yes!" the students said together.

"Oh, but this is terrible," the man said. "We must make you to come in." He murmured something to the monk to his left, who immediately sprinted back toward the castle and soon disappeared behind the ticket counter.

"We were lost in the woods and this was the first place we found," Sarah said. "We need to get back to Faubourg."

"Ah, Faubourg," the man said with some delight.

"Yeah, we're all studying abroad there," Morgan said.

"You've got to help us," Chris said.

"Please do not worry," the man said. "We will make it okay for you, I promise." He looked back into the courtyard. Just then came the sound of electric machinery as the gate started to slide open. The students let out a cheer and then started to laugh.

"Well, come in, entrez, s'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît," the man said, as the students squeezed through the gap. "Does your school know where you are?"

"No," Sarah said. "No one really knows we're missing. Our host families probably still think we're in Paris, on our break."

They were now all inside the fortified walls.

"I see," the man said. "This is very terrible for you. It is wet and it is cold in this weather, yes? Let us get you to shelter, yes?"

The group followed the man and his other companion across the entrance square where they encountered the third robed man jogging back toward them. They entered the monastery through a wooden door, and were then immediately led up a narrow staircase. At the top of the stairs, the spokesman unlocked a door, and, after watching his two companions enter the room, beckoned the students to come through behind them. The students walked dutifully into the dark room.

The spokesman reached out from under his robe to flip on a light switch. A five-lamp chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling grew bright.

The room stretched on for quite some distance. Thick mahogany floorboards reached their way from one end of the room to the other, though many disappeared underneath the bronze and black Egyptian rug that rested a few paces in.

The room appeared to be the head office. At the end of the room, facing the entranceway, there was a stately, hand-carved desk. Atop it sat a flat-screened computer monitor, and a crystal globe with beige oceans and turquoise continents rested on its left edge. On the wall behind the desk a rectangular wooden sign read in deeply etched characters, "Les Fraternités de Jerusalem – Mont-Saint-Michel." Two slim windows, just wide enough to point a bow and arrow through, appeared on each side of the sign.

The room was dominated by two vast, burgundy leather couches, which faced each other and lead up to the desk. A long glass coffee table, supported by a network of curved bronze, filled the rectangular space between the two couches. A pair of Queen Anne-style chairs were sitting a few feet into the room, angled slightly toward each other.

Hanging on the right wall was a large wooden crucifix, flanked by two paintings. The painting on the left was of the Annunciation. Here, the figures' garments were so brightly colored that they stood prominent even amidst the work's solid gold backdrop, which seemed like it should have been submerging everything it touched into its splendor. The other painting was a seated portrait of a pope. The fact that the pope was wearing glasses in the portrait and had a trim and sober haircut made it seem likely that he was a late 19th or 20th century pope, though one would need more information to say for sure.

On the left wall hung a giant tapestry. The tapestry depicted a young woman—most likely a princess—wearing a crimson gown embroidered by gold. Though the woman was standing, the artist seemed to have wanted to give the impression that she was asleep. Her hands were pressed together above her shoulder, and her head, tilted to the side, was lying flat on them. She was smiling peacefully, and her eyes were closed. Four different animals—a lion, a unicorn, an ox, and a dragon—were tugging at either the fabric of her dress, or one of the silver ribbons attached to it. The sky was deep blue in color, lined with rows and rows of golden fleur-de-lis. The ground was forest green, strewn with teal plants, miniature trees, and red and white lilies.

The spokesman went to sit down behind the desk, and his two companions soon stood over each of his shoulders. The companions then motioned the students to come farther inside the room and sit down on the couches.

"Okay, there are two options," the spokesman said from his desk after all of the students had taken their seats. "I call you a taxi now, it drives you to a close train station, you go home. This makes you fifty euros because the taxi journey is a long journey. But there are many of you, so you can, eh, how does one say, 'share.' And, of course, if you have no money, we can pay for you this time. I can also make it so you sleep the night here. I put you on bus tomorrow morning free of charge. What do you think?"

The students deliberated with each other briefly. "Probably the second choice," Chris said on behalf of his friends. "But first, is there any way we can get something to eat? We are literally starving." The other students nodded their heads, as though their enthusiasm could hasten the arrival of a meal.

"To eat? Bien sûr !" the man answered with glee. "Oh, mon dieu, why do I not yet bring to you this! You must have very much hunger, and much thirst too. Bernard ! Allez à la cuisine ! Ou la salle à manger. Je crois que ce soir, nous n'avons pas fini le repas. Ils ont faim !"

Bernard, visibly startled, looked quickly up at his brother. "Oui... oui !"

"D'accord," the spokesman replied with some annoyance.

For a few minutes, the students discussed whether they should leave that night or the next morning. Finally, Chris said, respectfully, "We're going to stay here for the night, sir. If that's okay."

"This is okay. This is excellent."

"And what was your name again?"

"My name is Charles. Listen, Bernard will retrieve the food to you soon—tonight we do not eat all the dinner. But you probably want to wash yourselves. The next room is a bathroom with a sink, and there is a water fountain next to this if you have thirst."

He opened one the desk drawers and began fishing through it.

"We have soap in this bathroom, but not soap for the face, let me see here—"

"Oh, that's okay!" Morgan chirped. "We have our own stuff."

"Oh, you have soaps and things?"

"Yep."

"Okay, this is excellent." Charles shut the desk drawer. "I know you probably want to take the shower, but monks have showers for themselves and that is it. I am very sorry. Alors, the bathroom is on the right, and you can use as you want—"

Just then, the door opened. Bernard stood in the entranceway, with a friendly and somewhat mischievous smile on his face. He disappeared behind the wall for a moment, and then returned pushing a cart that was overflowing with silver food trays.

"Well! How fast!" Charles cried in triumph. Bernard wheeled the cart around the two armchairs and up to the couches. The students could not avert their eyes from the trays, waiting eagerly to see what lay beneath their coverings. Bernard quickly removed the lids and unleashed through the room an aroma of chicken, broccoli, rice, sweet potatoes, and toasted baguettes. There was also a tray of brownies for dessert on the lowest shelf of the cart.

"I see that you have great hunger," Charles said, looking around at the students and laughing. "Listen to your bellies and eat a little first before you go to wash yourselves if you wish!"

*

After they had finished up their dinners, the students put their plates back on the cart, and Bernard began compiling them in a way that would allow him to transport the cart easily out of the room and through the hallway. They then took turns washing up in the bathroom before returning to the office to rest further.

Marie was reclining on the far end of one of the couches and quietly relishing the feeling of a full stomach. Suddenly, she remembered her snakebite.

"Charles!" she cried. "Charles! I doubt you're the right person to talk to, but I may need your help with something."

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Charles said, getting up from his desk and walking over to her, lifting up his white robe so not to trip.

"I got this snakebite when we were out in the woods," Marie said. She rolled up her pant leg to reveal the puncture on her lower leg. "I was worried it might be poisonous."

Charles looked down at Marie's shin and then up at her face. Marie observed with surprise that Charles had deep wrinkles carved into his cheeks. He was, in fact, a much older man than she had formerly believed.

"When, ma chérie, does this serpent bite you?" he asked.

"It was in the morning, two days ago," Marie said.

"Two days ago, but in the morning. I think very much you are fine. But I will go telephone the infirmary."

Marie watched Charles return to his desk to place the call. His tone was for the most part pleasant but occasionally turned grave. Marie could not decipher Charles' words through his burly French accent. All she understood was the conclusion of the conversation, where Charles said excitedly, "D'accord...d'accord...d'accord" and then, "À bientôt, François."

Charles returned to Marie, smiling merrily as he walked across the room. He sat down next to her on the couch and cupped his right hand on her shoulder.

"I only just spoke to our doctor at the monastery," Charles said, and then paused slightly, as though for dramatic effect. "And he tells me you are very fine! It is no problem. If it was a bite of poison, he says, other symptoms—very terrible symptoms—will come upon you already. He is very sure, so do not worry."

Marie felt a giddiness stirring up inside her. She decided to confirm Charles' report, not because she doubted the veracity of his initial words, but simply to prolong and perhaps redouble this overwhelming feeling of ease that was coming over her entire body.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, trust me. I do not make lies to you."

"I can't tell you how much of a relief that is," Marie said. "Thank you!"

"Yes," Charles said. "Yes, it is no problem."

Marie then looked over at Russell. She was curious to see if her question would prompt him to ask about the wound he had sustained from the car door window. But Russell was simply munching on a brownie that he held in his palm and staring contemplatively at the floor. "He must no longer be at all worried about it," Marie thought.

The students had now all returned from washing up, and were reclining on the leather couches. The other monk, still unnamed, was cleaning up the floor with a broom and a dustpan.

"Well, as you digest, perhaps I can say some words or two about les Fraternités Monastiques de Jérusalem?" Charles said.

Charles took the silence that followed as enough permission to begin his speech.

"Alors. Excellent. And you have the good luck also. Because, you see, I talk about this so many times my English sounds a little, little better when I speak it."

"Bonne nuit," the unnamed monk said as he stood by the door. He was clutching his broom and dustpan in the same hand and looking out at the students timidly.

"Bonne nuit," the students responded, more or less together.

The monk smiled.

"Bonne nuit, George," Charles said. "Merci beaucoup." George was still smiling, with a mixture of pride and nervousness, as he walked backwards out of the room and pulled the door shut with his retreating hand.

Charles looked back at the students and cleared his throat.

"Alors. To begin, we have monasteries all over Europe and even one in Montréal. The man who founded us is named Brother Pierre-Marie Delfieux. He founded us in 1975. This man is very famous. He founded us on All Saints' Day in 1975 when he was chaplain at the Sorbonne University in Paris. Today, we have foundations in Paris, Strasbourg, Brussels, Florence, Rome, Montréal, and, of course, le Mont-Saint-Michel. It is our vocation, our duty, to provide to you with an oasis of prayer, silence, and peace in the 'desert' of modern cities. Together, we live out the common calling of fraternal life, prayer, and working. We strive to remain in the heart of God while welcoming others in the heart of the city."

Charles stopped speaking and grinned at the students.

"See," he said. "I told you my English is better." The students laughed.

"We are part of the Catholic Church, and we are made up of two religious institutes—one of brothers and one of sisters. We give particular importance to the beauty of the liturgy. We consider this an oasis from which all can draw—morning, noon, or evening. Through the liturgy all receive respite from the hectic pace of city life in the heart of God.

"Alors. Do you have any questions?"

"Can we have a tour?" Marie asked.

A few of the students chuckled.

"A tour? Yes, this is a good idea. I do these often, and I will show you many wonderful and fantastic things," Charles said.

"I would go," Morgan said sweetly.

"I, like, can't move," Russell said.

"Neither can I," Chris said.

"Well, you can rest here if you should like," Charles said. "You do sleep here tonight. Bernard will return to you soon with many blankets and many pillows to help you make comfortable. And I would give you private room, but we have sleeping monks in these rooms! But who is coming on this tour then? You have the choice."

Sarah, Ariel, and Danielle were also tired, so only Marie, Gary, and Morgan opted to go for the tour. By the time they exited with Charles, Chris was already stretching his body across an entire couch, and the girls were curling up together on the couch opposite. Russell was sitting in the armchair, his cheek pasted against the taut oxblood vinyl.

Charles walked them through two long hallways, the first lit with candles, the second with electric chandeliers. At the end of the second hallway, they reached a frail wooden door that opened to the monastery's outdoor pathways. It was dark when they got outside, but the students could see a thin line of artificial light at the horizon where the wilderness gave way to the city.

The night breeze seemed to carry them up the winding stone path as they followed Charles. And despite the ornate capitals and lunging gargoyles that were attracting their gaze, their eyes were continually drawn toward his shimmering white robe, which seemed to reflect in its fibers all of the stars and moonlight. At last, Charles gathered them at a rectangular courtyard for the first stop on the tour. Limestone walkways lined with carved spandrels shaped and framed the garden that lay in the area's center.

"This, my friends, is the cloister," Charles said. "It is here that we come to meditate and to make reflections. With bowed heads, we move through the walkways, gazing out onto God's greatest gift—nature. When the weather is very warm, we like to have meetings out here on the grass."

"It's beautiful," Morgan said with a gasp. They walked with Charles down one of the walkways and then followed him back into the abbey.

Charles took them down another long hallway and then up a winding staircase. After traversing a small landing that sat at the top of the stairs, Charles opened the double doors to the next room on the tour.

"Ah, alors, here we are," Charles said, gesturing with his hand as the two doors closed behind him. "The choir. See the slender pillars that thrust up from the ground toward God, as flowers whose petals bend toward the light. Walk through the archways, feel the light of the moon on your back as it shines through the stained glass, return to God and all His glory."

They felt their eyes move upward, to the high windows and ribbed ceiling. They walked farther into the room. The floors were made of tiny red-orange tiles, and their feet echoed off them as they moved.

"This, my fine friends, is where the monks congregate in the holiest of prayer. Here we make matins at midnight. And sometimes midnight mass. Have a seat. Let God's love pierce your heart. Think of the Son on the cross and how He suffered. He died so that you can be saved. Reflect on the suffering of Christ in silence for a moment."

The three sat on one of the dozens of benches that filled the choir. Each closed his eyes and remained quiet in either feigned or genuine meditation.

"Come," Charles began. "Let us continue. I want you to see where the monks live, work, and eat."

As they tiptoed down another staircase, Charles, without even turning around, began to speak in a booming voice.

"It makes me great pleasure that you decided to take this tour with me. But I know you are tired. You journeyed long today and for many days. My office is almost here. The tour continues if you want. Or you can sleep. You have the choice."

They were now leaving the stairwell for the hallway in which Charles' office was located.

"I think I might go if that's alright," Morgan said a few moments later, once they were within a few steps of the office entrance. "I'm so tired. But thanks so much for the tour and for all your help, Charles!"

"It was nothing, my dear," Charles said. He opened the door, and Morgan slipped inside. Charles stared at the closed door for a moment, as though he were somehow watching Morgan drift farther and farther into the room. He then turned to Gary and Marie.

"Well, do we continue?" Charles asked the pair.

The tour resumed journeying through the old monastery, with Charles walking in the center, and Marie and Gary on his left and right side respectively.

Chapter 33

"Remind me again of your names," Charles said, his voice echoing softly down the dark tunnel of a hallway.

"I'm Marie."

"Ah, so now you are not anymore 'the girl with the snakebite,'" Charles said. "And what about you?"

"Gary."

"Very good," Charles said. He paused. "I was going to show to you the library. But maybe you want to see something different? The refectory, perhaps."

"What's in the refectory?" Gary asked.

"It is simply a giant room, but it is here where the poorest pilgrims used to come to get food, clothing, medicine, and other nourishment from the monks from long ago. Actually, as I think about it, let us take you to the library instead. This you will enjoy much more, I am sure."

"Okay," Gary said. "The library sounds perfect."

Charles looked at Marie for her approval.

"So?" he asked. "The library?"

Marie looked up at Charles' frayed face and watery eyes. "Yes, I'd love to see the library."

"Follow me," Charles said. He turned and began walking steadily down the dim corridor. The back of his white robe shone like fresh marble amidst the gentle orange flames. They walked for the most part in silence through the series of tunnels, stairways, and chapels that led to their destination. As they crept through the chapels, with the light of the moon falling through the slender windows, Gary and Marie caught glimpses along the wall of the faded fleur-de-lis. The three moved alongside the rows of pews and snuck around the altars, hearing nothing but the sound of their footsteps rebounding up into the ribbed vaults. After a shortcut through the crypt, they at last reached the library.

Charles stood at the entrance, cajoling his key into the lock on the wooden door. "This room is, of course, the room for study," he said, finally unlocking the door and swinging it open. "We labor often—six days of the week—so the library for us is a perfect moment to make reflections and gain wisdom to ourselves. It is empty now, but come on the Sabbath, and you will see many monks and many nuns here."

Their eyes fell immediately on the three chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling, and then on the two symmetrical spiraling staircases leading up to the indoor balcony. There were shelves of books that reached up to the second level, and golden music stands, all across the floor, displaying the notes to medieval chants and hymns. Many of these stands were set before sumptuous brown leather armchairs that looked as soft and worn as baseball gloves. The room was dimly lit; bursts of light came forth from each chandelier, but did not carry far. Long shadows covered the wooden floor, and the far corners of the room were almost completely lost in the shadows.

"It's so beautiful," Marie said, as she and Gary followed Charles inside.

"I can't even believe what, I don't know, treasures must be in here," Gary said.

"Oh, yes," Charles said. "For centuries, the monks of le Mont-Saint-Michel would make their job to copy the books of scripture as well as books of the ancient Greeks and Romans, of their history, epic, and philosophy. Is there anything you want to look at in particular?"

"I really have no idea," Gary said. "Everything looks like it should be in a museum."

"Well, for example, I must show you our four bibles since the tenth century, and then we have two hagiographies. One comes from the tenth century also, but the other comes from the eighth century. Come. I can show them to you."

Gary started following Charles, but Marie hesitated. "I actually really have to go to the bathroom first," she said. "Can you show me where it is?"

"Eh, alors. Yes, I should take you there," Charles said. "It is a little bit complicated. Can you stay here for some time, Gary?"

"Sure," Gary said.

"You can see to the books yourself if you would like. They find themselves all along the back wall behind glass. It is very easy. Go see them, I insist to you."

Charles left with Marie, and began leading her down the same dark, twisting corridor that had led to the library. Marie wondered how a bathroom, with its modern conveniences, could emerge from somewhere within these medieval walls.

"Charles?" Marie said meekly as she attempted to keep up with his hurried pace.

"Ah, oui ?" Charles said in return. His right cheek was aglow from the orange light of the hallway's dim chandeliers. Amorphous shadows were spreading across his face as he moved beneath the light.

"This is going to sound kind of stupid—but what's it like being a monk?"

Charles looked over at her and continued to stride briskly.

"I do not understand, Marie. What are you asking exactly?"

"Well, I just have a lot of respect for what you do."

"It is the holiest of professions—"

"It's more than just that," she said, cutting him off. "You just must have so much purpose and direction as a monk."

"Well, yes, of course," Charles said. "In a day, we pray, work, and study. Our reason to be is to serve God. We give up our pleasures of the flesh so we can feel God's love pierce us in the heart."

"See," Marie began, smiling, "I feel like I'm the kind of person who would really benefit from things like manual labor and faith. And community. I feel like all of those things are missing from my life, and, as a result, my mind just starts thinking about nonsense. And, I don't know, it's just not fun."

Charles stopped walking and turned to face Marie in the hallway. He seemed to think to himself for a moment. "Yes, I know very much what you mean to say. We enjoy to dwell in the heart of God. Our monastery makes us a life of peace, in cities like Paris, Strasbourg, Brussels, or here in le Mont-Saint-Michel. But what is it you are asking to me exactly?"

"So you have a convent here too, right?" she asked.

"A convent?"

"Yeah. For nuns?"

"But of course. We have an order of sisters."

"Maybe..." Her voice shook a little. "Maybe I could join?"

Charles peered down at her. Marie took notice of his eyebrows, how they were a rich black on the ends and then gradually faded to grey as they moved toward the center of his forehead. She suddenly felt the vast gulf between their ages.

"You are not very serious?" he asked.

"I think I am," she said.

Charles gave a light cough. "It can be the best decision in your life. That is for sure. And we will welcome you happily." He smiled at Marie, as though giving her a preview of what this welcome would look like.

"But it requires a commitment that is absolute," he continued. "For it is like we say in le Livre de Vie, our guide to the life as the brothers and the sisters of Jerusalem. It says, 'either one is a monk or nun to the very bottom of one's heart, or one is never a monk or a nun at all.'"

"That sounds like a lot," Marie said. Then a smile of ecstasy grew across her face. "I really think I might want to do it!" she cried.

Charles frowned. "My dear, it's not so easy as that. Let us return to your friend, get a night's rest, pray, and think of your wish in the morning."

"I feel like I should finalize this now, though. Before I change my mind."

"Marie, listen to me. I know many, many stories of young boys and young girls who come to our monastery and then leave to us weeks later. They did not think first. Do you understand? You must think of it first. We speak further tomorrow."

"But I really think I'm sure, Charles," Marie said quietly.

"You are sure?" Charles asked. "You truly want to make yourself into nun? This can be wonderful, but maybe you are not sure. How do you know you want to do this?"

"Well, just as I was saying before. I feel like it will get me thinking about the really important things in life."

"Ah, yes. You say you think about—how does one say—'nonsense,' yes? What is this nonsense you think towards?"

Marie could tell from the movements around his chest that Charles was crossing his arms beneath his robe.

"Just, like, little things." She paused, and then said in a cracking voice, "Stupid stuff, you know?"

"Tell me, please. I want to know it."

"It's complicated."

"Dear girl, something is troubling you! Now I can see it."

Marie didn't respond.

"Please," Charles said. "Let us talk a little. Can we do this?"

Chapter 34

"I've been worrying about AIDS for the past few months," she said. "Like really worrying."

They were sitting on a bench together a few steps before the door to the bathroom.

"AIDS?"

"Yeah."

"What is this AIDS? I do not yet know this word."

"HIV? You know, the disease. Or, wait. VIH."

"Ah, le VIH, bien sûr."

"Right. I'm not actually afraid I have it or anything—I know I don't have it. There's just a tiny, tiny chance I might have it from kissing this boy, and I go crazy that I don't know for sure. Anyway, that's not really the point." She stopped herself in frustration. "I am just tantalized by the fact that I could be 100% sure I don't have it if I were to get tested, but for some reason I either am too afraid to get a test, or it's too inconvenient, or I just know I shouldn't. Anyway, this pretty much ruined my entire study abroad. And it was just so hard to see how much fun everyone else was having while I was so upset."

"And what makes this so hard for you?" Charles asked.

"It's hard because I just think I'm being stupid for not getting tested since this is causing me so much pain and anxiety. I just think if I got that little test, my life would go back to being perfect again. So all day, I just agonize over whether or not I should get tested. And I try so hard to just tell myself, 'Marie, just enjoy things the way they are. You don't have AIDS, you're not getting tested.' So I won't get a test, but then, of course, things will still be horrible. The next thing I know, I'm saying to myself, 'Just get a test already! Why are you stopping yourself from maximizing your enjoyment of life as much as you can?' And it's not like my life is already great and I just want it to be a little better. Right now I'm getting very little joy out of life—although I do still love life in an odd sort of way—so I worry that I am missing out on the chance to go from a painful life to a wonderful life. Do you know what I mean?"

"Oh, indeed," Charles said. He was nodding his head vigorously.

Marie let out a breath.

"Anyway, when I was in the woods for those four days, I was so worried about surviving that I hardly thought about AIDS. Because my life was at stake, because I had so many more important things to worry about—getting food and water, the snakebite, my friends' safety and my safety—the stuff about AIDS just seemed so pointless. I mean, we were in the middle of the wilderness!"

"Ah," Charles said. "And you think if you make yourself into nun, you will not think about ridiculous things as AIDS, for example."

"Exactly! My life will be completely ascetic. I will labor peacefully during the day, and then pray blissfully at night."

"I understand," Charles said. He tilted his head away from Marie a little in order to create eye contact with her. "Marie, I think I can help to you."

She nodded.

"I think you learn very valuable lesson in these forests. We do not live in the heavens. We do not live in the hand of Christ. We live in the Earth. And the Earth is where we suffer. It is a sea of war and disease, of pain, famine, and misery. But also there is much beauty in this Earth."

He paused, seeming to marvel for a moment at all of the world's beauty.

"But, dear girl," he continued, "what I want to tell you, what you must know, is that you are going to suffer in any life that you live. The Garden of Eden is gone away."

Charles smiled, amused by his observation, and quickly scurried two of his fingers back and forth while moving his hand away from his body in order to illustrate the distance that had grown between them and the Garden.

"In life, we sometimes return to the Garden. But for seconds! For seconds, dear girl. And this only if we have much luck in our lives. You need to be content with these little moments, and then content again for the long eras of frustration and, yes, sometimes even of misery. Only with Christ, in the life after death, can a man live with happiness and peace for a long time. For eternity."

He straightened up his body.

"And though you may not think this, I tell to you that you like your life. You like it very much, even with the pain and the troubles. I know this in you. So what I say to you is, enjoy to yourself the suffering of this test. Say that you are happy with the suffering you have. Say that you have problems, and this is okay, because this is the way life should be. Life is not fun and happy and feeling good all the time. Who tells you this? Dear girl," Charles said, raising his voice, "do not think for a minute you can have this life."

Charles touched Marie affectionately on the hand and then stared straight ahead in a way that signaled he had said all he intended to. Both were quiet then.

"So, I guess I shouldn't become a nun."

Charles sighed. "Marie, I do not say this. This would make us great joy. The greatest joy. I hope you do join us. But you must decide if you enter with good reasons."

"I just know myself," Marie said. "And I know you say that life is suffering. I understand that. But maybe I would suffer less if I were a nun than as myself in the real world? Isn't life also about finding the best way to minimize or avoid suffering?" She asked these questions in a tone that made it seem like she wanted, or at least expected, Charles to disagree with her.

"Well, what do you think?" Charles asked, a look of mischief appearing on his face as he glanced sideways at Marie. "You have tried to make yourself not to suffer all semester. How does this go for you? This is not a simple headache that you have. Strangely, perhaps things would be better if you were to have a simple headache, or some other ailment. Sometimes, when we enter the Garden or even lean against its walls, we find that, all to a sudden, it has become very far away. Sometimes, it is better to dwell a little outside the Garden, and not try to get inside."

Charles then rested his hands on his lap and closed his eyes for a few seconds in repose.

"Right," Marie said with skepticism, after thinking for a few moments. "But aren't we in agreement? I'm talking about becoming a nun—that is a form of suffering in itself. I will be choosing a hard and meaningful life as a nun so I don't have to live a harder life as a privileged and pampered American who's always obsessing about made-up problems. And yes, I realize that sounds counterintuitive."

"Alors," Charles said with a sigh. "I see what you wish to say. But let me say this. Children have entered into this monastery for reasons very different. Some very bizarre. And yours is rather normal. So this is good." He smiled. "But it is funny, in a certain way. Because, to be a monk or a nun, it is necessary that one, eh, comment dit-on, say goodbye to one's identity, to one's individualism, and then to the world outside. This is the most important part of how to be monk. And many, many monks and nuns said good-bye longtime ago before they enter les Fraternités de Jerusalem."

"I know, but don't you think it would be good for me to become this way?" Marie asked in a challenging tone.

"Good for you... perhaps yes, perhaps no. But good for anyone else? I am not so very sure. Perhaps your world is not yet ready to lose you." Charles bowed his head gravely, and Marie looked away. A few moments passed.

"Come," he said, lifting up his head. "We talk of it tomorrow. The night will help us to think better. But again I say, I do not try to discourage to you. If you decide 'yes,' we will welcome you with great joy inside our family. I just want you to really think of it first."

They started walking back toward the library, but after a few steps Charles halted and turned toward Marie.

"Wait please, Marie! The washroom. You're still using it perhaps?"

"Oh, right!" Marie said.

"I'm sorry we forget this," he said. "And quickly! Gary waits on us."

"We can just head back now," Marie said.

"No, no. You go. It is not that long yet."

*

Charles rested against the wall outside while Marie, inside the bathroom, stared deep into the ceramic sink bowl.

Come on, Marie. Why did you even have that conversation? You know you're not actually going to become a nun. Who are you kidding? You're not even Christian. You're just a nice Jewish girl from the suburbs; you can't just go from that to becoming a French nun. Plus, even Charles doesn't seem to think it's right for you. Charles gave you some advice. Maybe you should just try that for awhile and see if it helps. It seems like it really could.

But something has to change. I can't go back to the way I was living before, not after an experience like this. My mind needs true stimulation. I need more risk and excitement and meaning and hardship in my life. That was part of Charles' advice as well. Maybe becoming a nun would be the best way to provide me with these things? Look, you're not becoming a nun. That's crazy. But just sleep on it, Marie. Maybe you'll have an epiphany in your dreams.

Marie walked out of the bathroom. When she saw Charles, she lowered her eyes. "I don't think I'm going to do it," she said. "But I'm not sure yet, so I still want to talk tomorrow if that's okay."

"Of course this is fine. It would certainly be a blessing for us if you decide 'yes.' Remember my advice. And remember that you do not worry, because it will be fine for you. This I promise." He lent Marie a grandfatherly smile and directed her through the narrow corridor with his hand on her back for a short part of the way.

When they returned to the library, Gary was sitting by the entrance in one of the brown leather armchairs.

"Hey," Gary said. "You guys were gone for awhile."

"I am very sorry to you. It is my fault," Charles said. "Do you have fun reading the books?"

"I really did," Gary said. "I couldn't find any in English, but it was incredible just to look at them. Like I said before, I'm surprised some of this stuff isn't in a museum, at least the stuff behind glass."

Charles grinned and began to chuckle. "They will never get this from us," he said.

Gary and Marie looked at each other in shared amusement.

"So what now?" Charles asked.

Gary yawned. "I am actually so tired, Monsieur Charles. Would you mind if I went to bed?"

"No, it is fine," Charles said. "It is now very late, and I need to be getting up again towards six to lead the morning prayers. Do you need help from me to get back?"

Gary glanced over at Marie. "Uh, yeah," he said. "I think so."

"Certainly," Charles said. He led them back to his office, this time taking a route that went through the monastery's Great Hall.

*

"Voilà," Charles said, as they at last approached the door of his office. "We are here. And I must to sleep."

"Goodnight, Charles," Gary said.

"Goodnight, Gary. Goodnight, Marie," Charles said, bowing. He turned to depart.

"So you'll wake me up early tomorrow?" Marie asked timidly.

"Yes, we speak of it then. I hope very much you think tonight with God inside your heart."

"Okay," Marie said to Charles in a low voice. "Thank you, Charles."

"You are welcome," he said quickly. "But I must leave you this time. So as of now, bonne nuit."

They watched Charles walk away. After Charles turned the corner, Marie looked at Gary and let out a nervous chuckle.

"What was that about?" Gary asked.

"I don't know," Marie said, trailing off.

"Come on. What is it? Please."

Marie suddenly rushed toward Gary and embraced him. "I'm just freaking out about things, Gary. I'm so confused."

Gary took her in his arms.

"Marie, it kills me when I hear you say that. You have no idea how much I care about you. What's going on?"

She pulled back from his hold. "What if I were to become a nun?"

"What?" he asked in disbelief.

"I know it sounds crazy, but maybe it will be the answer for me with my whole 'AIDS' thing. Maybe it'll get me thinking about the things in life that really matter."

Gary's tone seemed to relax a little.

"Come on, Marie. A nun? You don't want to really do that. Do you?"

"Probably not," she said. "But maybe I should."

Gary paused.

"Listen. I know how upset you're feeling. But I think you're just figuring things out, you know? I think you're just acting rashly right now. So I'm not going to tell you that becoming a nun is a good idea, because I actually don't think it is. I know you, and it's not for you."

"But I just can't stop thinking that I was actually happier when we were starving in the wilderness than I was in Faubourg, just eating pastries and having coffee all the time. Look, I don't actually think I have it in me to commit to becoming a nun. But what if I were a nun? I would have the comfort of God, my only goal would be to please God, you know? I just think I would have better goals, and I would just have a mind that's more healthy—and more productive."

At these words, Gary took Marie by her upper arms and held her still.

"Marie, listen to what you're saying. I'm sorry to have to say this to you, but I honestly think you're being too... just too self-absorbed."

Marie looked crushed, but her face also bore a curious expression.

"You think I'm self-absorbed?" she asked.

"I don't know. I mean, what do you think?"

"Well, I guess I've always thought I was. But I didn't know it was obvious to other people!"

Gary cupped his hands over his face and then slowly pushed them upward until they became lost in his hair.

"It's not. But the way you're talking right now, it seems that way to me."

"Gary, why do you think I'm self-absorbed?" she asked with urgency.

"Look, I didn't mean it like that. You're incredible. You are one of the most compassionate and sensitive people I know. That's what I like so much about you. But at the same time, well, how do I say this?"

Gary paused.

"The reason I'm telling you all of this stuff is because I really, truly care about you. When I see you, I want to kiss you, and not just because it would feel great, but because I want us to share that experience. This might sound strange, but I just feel like I want to give part of myself to you. And, well, I just don't think about AIDS testing centers or far-off monasteries because I care too much about this living, breathing person in front of me. And that's what keeps me happy. And I promise you, if you can try to think more in this way, you will find yourself feeling happy, too. Or at least happier."

Marie was silent. She stared into Gary's eyes and did not look away. It was, for her, one of the few times she ever made eye contact with someone and felt completely comfortable keeping her eyes locked. She felt at that moment as though she were doing no more than looking in the mirror, so little desire had she to avert eye contact. She could see, deep in his eyes, his real selflessness. His eyes, gentle and hopeful, revealed a man who sought to do no more than ease the lives of others, and enrich his own life by surrounding it with the people whom he cherished. She suddenly felt as though she needed to bring this person into her life, to keep his heart warm and close to hers.

"Gary," Marie said. "I think you're right."

"Don't become a nun."

He stepped toward her and put her little hand in his palm. He grinned.

"Become my girlfriend instead."

Marie giggled and thought for a moment. "I think I want to." She paused. "I really want to."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."f

"That's so great!" Gary exclaimed. He quickly drew Marie toward him, wrapping his arms around her back. Marie hugged her arms around Gary's waist and buried her head deep into his shirt.

"I know it's kind of soon to be saying this," he whispered in her ear. "But I really do love you."

"I love you too, Gary." She was surprised at how genuinely she meant her words.

Their hug went on until at last Gary pulled back his head and studied her eyes. He reached for her chin and guided her lips in for their first kiss. Marie held Gary's waist tightly as she kissed him. When their mouths came apart, she reached for his hand and permitted her fingers to intertwine with his.

"So what now?" Gary asked. His cheeks were flushed.

Marie laughed and her eyes looked buoyant and dreamy. "What if we move here? And open up a business together."

"Move where?"

"To the town at the bottom of Mont-Saint-Michel."

"Um, are you serious?" Gary asked.

"Not really, but think about it! We would work so hard we wouldn't have time to think about anything else. We wouldn't be children anymore. We'd make money just through labor and our ingenuity."

"Marie!" Gary cried with amusement. "What did we just talk about?"

She looked confused for an instant, and then her face eased.

"I guess we can just date for awhile first," she said playfully.

"Well, we can definitely do that," Gary said with a laugh. "But instead of opening up a business on an island, why don't you just be a waitress at my restaurant this summer? I promise you'll work just as hard and your mind will be just as busy. I think it'll be good for you."

"Oh my god!" Marie exclaimed in delight. "I am totally doing that. I think that's exactly what I need. Besides you, of course."

Gary grinned. "I think we both need some sleep," he said.

They walked back to the office together, and Marie fell asleep just seconds after curling into his long arms.

Chapter 35

Marie saw Charles' face when she opened her eyes. It sat directly before her, so close that it seemed as though she had awoken for no other purpose than to behold him. She glanced down to see that he was holding a bronze lantern, lit up by three flickering white candles.

"Marie," he whispered. "Marie."

She didn't say anything.

"Marie," he said again.

"Hey," Marie finally said, in a soft but friendly voice. "What's up?"

"Come with me," he said.

He stood up—he had been crouching—and held the lantern to the door. Marie followed him out of the room. As she walked, she caught brief glimpses of her friends' sleeping faces. How similar they all looked amidst the faintest light.

"I'm very sorry," he said, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the hall. She felt his silky white gown graze against her forearm as he let go of the doorknob. "I don't want to make the children wake up already."

He set down the lantern on the stone bench beside the door.

"Do you think about this more?" he asked.

"I actually have. Charles, I don't think I'm going to do it."

"Of course. But why?"

"I was pretty mixed up when I came here," she stammered. "I was just looking for an answer, and for some reason I thought becoming a nun could be that answer. But I'm seeing things more clearly now."

"I'm glad you realize this," Charles said warmly.

"I realized that I would be joining for the wrong reasons," she continued. "I wouldn't be doing it for God, for Catholicism, for the importance of piety. I would only be doing it for me."

Charles reached out and touched her arm.

"You are making the right choice, ma cherie," he said, giving her arm a light squeeze and then letting go.

They kept quiet for a few seconds, making occasional eye contact and then looking past one another. Marie then yawned slowly and covered her mouth as she did so.

"There is one other thing I wish to say to you before I make you to sleep," Charles said. "It is a thing of great importance." He paused. "I think about you and VIH some more, and I have to you a little bit of advice practical—things I learn and discover during my years of meditation."

Marie looked at him with curious eyes.

"Listen carefully, Marie. You must not give to these VIH thoughts any more time than they deserve—which is one second." He then raised his voice. "Or even less than this time! They come in, and that very same breath, you say good-bye to them. And then you can be free from them. Keep saying good-bye, and eventually you are thinking about something completely different, and you can then maybe say, 'VIH? This is silly.' You want to solve the great mystery, but you must not try this. Each second you try to solve this, it's like poison. It is like poison to you! You understand this? This is very important. This is the thing of the most importance, more than all other things."

Marie's mouth opened slightly in wonder. "I think I do understand. I can't believe you've had this problem, too."

Charles nodded, as though he only partially understood Marie.

"And best of all, this can work for you at all times. In the forest or at a party, on vacation or at your office, when life has many of problems, or even when life is without problems. They come in, and you say to them, 'Bye bye.' Think of other things immediately. To shop, to dance, friends and pets, what you do on the weekend. Or quickly do something merry, like watch a film or play a game or puzzle. Anything that truly, truly excites your mind. Keep doing this, and eventually these thoughts will die, or at least become very weak. Yes? You understand this, yes?"

"Of course I understand," she said breathlessly.

"Good. Just promise to me you will try this little tip. Because I know for to me, I cannot make meditation without it."

"I promise, Charles," Marie said calmly.

She then had the urge to give Charles a hug, but she chose not to, for she knew that all the gratitude she ever needed to show him was expressed in the way she was looking at him just then.

"But I think now, ma chérie, let us make you to sleep," he said with a light sigh.

Marie continued to watch him with a great smile.

"Wait, Charles. I just want to say that I know that this advice will help me—and all of your wisdom tonight, of course. I am just very impressed—and grateful."

Charles chuckled and turned his head away in a moment of shyness.

"Let us make you to sleep, ma chérie."

"I should, I should," she said quickly. "Wait—what's that?"

A wobbly, slow creaking noise began to fill the hallway. Marie and Charles whipped their heads around. They could not see far down the corridor. The flickering light from the bronze lantern had lit up the first few yards of stone wall in an orange, tremulous glow. But the light, so strong at its center, grew weak along the wall, and soon gave way to an entirely black abyss. The steady, slow creaking noise suddenly, for an instant, became very loud and high-pitched. Then there was silence, followed by a loud thud—the sound of a door slamming shut. Marie and Charles whirled around again.

George, Charles' monastic brother, stood before them, his face bathed in candlelight. He was gripping in his right hand a small, golden candelabra carrying five flickering candles. In his left hand he was clutching a thick piece of yellow parchment with torn edges.

Marie then looked beyond George, into the shadows. To his left and just behind him was a firmly shut door. The thin wooden door, lodged into the stone wall and surrounded by stone all around, looked like it had not been opened in a thousand years. She looked back again at George.

"George !" Charles cried. "Que fais-tu ?"

"Je viens aider. Tu m'a dit que ton ami Marie a l'anxiéte. Je veux aider."

Charles nodded his head in assent.

George looked down at the piece of parchment, and then up again at Marie. He began to study the parchment he held in his hand, lowering his candelabra toward the page.

"I tell to George that you have this anxiety," Charles whispered to Marie. "He knows many, many remedies, ancient and modern. He give help to the anxieties of many monks in a place such as this. But I thought he will speak to you in the morning, after the mass—"

Suddenly, George began to speak.

"C'est en anglais. "

He looked up at Marie again, as though searching for some sign of gratitude in her visage. He cleared his throat and began to speak English in a thick and heavy French accent, though, to Marie's surprise, he pronounced the words properly for the most part.

"St. John's Wort doth charm all witches away

If gathered at midnight on the saint's holy day.

Any devils and witches have no power to harm

Those that gather the plant for a charm:

Rub the lintels and post with that red juicy flower

No thunder nor tempest will then have the power

To hurt or hinder your houses: and bind

Round your neck a charm of similar kind."

George had finished. He continued to stare at the page. His gaze moved to Marie, and then to Charles.

"Cette fleur," George said, trailing off. "C'est magnifique. Je pense que, pour Marie, c'est très important." He was looking at Charles beseechingly.

"C'est une bonne idée, sans question," Charles said. He turned to Marie. "Marie, I think it is good for you to try this herb, the St. John Wort. I am surprised to myself I do not think of this idea earlier." He turned back to George. "Je l'ai dit," he said.

George's face became gleeful, and he drew a large smile.

"Mercí !" he cried.

Marie turned to Charles. "What is this herb? St. John's Wort, is that what it's called? I've never heard of it. Is it English?"

"Yes, my dear," Charles said. "This is an herb which grows wildly in the many meadows of England. It gets its name because it first blooms on the holy day of Saint John, June the twenty-four. It is named by the early Christians, the beloved fathers of our Church, as early as the First Century anno domini. It was not so long after the time that Christ Himself, our Lord and Savior, walked this very Earth. It is said that the five yellow petals—is that the word, 'petal'?— of the flower make up the halo of Saint John, and that a crimson color oozes from these very petals when crushed, like the blood which spilled from the head of our beloved John.

"But I do think that this herb can be of help to you. Not of great help, I believe, based on your problem. But perhaps it make the sun and the stars a little bit brighter for you, and, in general, make your cup a little more full, yes? But I also do say that the advice I give you just a few minutes ago, before George appeared to us, is still the most important, and there is nothing of more importance to you. Do not forget these words I give to you."

Just then, Marie noticed George out of the corner of her eye. He appeared to be beckoning to her with his finger.

Marie walked over to him. George handed her the candelabra so that he could reach into his pocket. Marie grabbed the candle holder readily, perhaps anticipating that George would give it to her.

"Regardez," he whispered to Marie. "Regardez," he said again, this time much louder.

In his palm was a small package, wrapped in a cloth of dark green velvet, held together by a brown leather string at the top. He pulled loose the string and the velvet fell. Marie lowered the candelabra to see a glass jar, with a cork wedged firmly into the opening. The jar was filled with black-brown powder.

"Voilà," George whispered.

"The St. John's Wort?" Marie asked.

"Oui."

Marie reached for the glass jar sitting in George's outstretched palm. She gave back to him the flickering candelabra.

"How do I take it? How often?" she asked,

George looked over at Charles.

"Le dosage, George," Charles said. "Le dosage."

"Ah, d'accord," George said. "Deux ou trois petites cuillères, par jour, comme un thé. Je les prends le matin. Mais, ce n'est pas necessaire. C'est ton choix."

Charles looked at Marie tenderly.

"George says to take two to three little spoons a day of this, as a hot tea."

Marie walked back over and stood next to Charles.

"You can buy this in a pharmacy, too," Charles whispered in her ear, as George rolled up his parchment. "In fact, I recommend this."

Charles then approached George. Marie watched as Charles spoke softly to George, with a hand cupped around his ear. George was nodding his head as he tied a thick red string around the scroll of parchment.

Charles continued to speak into George's ear. He then stood back from George for a moment and gave him a grin and a look in the eye. Then both men squinted their eyes and chuckled together, shaking their heads in amusement.

"D'accord, d'accord," George said through his laughter.

"Je sais, je sais," Charles said, trailing off. "Moi aussi."

George leaned the roll of parchment against the wall, and reached for the knob of the ancient door. The door creaked slightly open. As George stood in the doorway, he raised his candelabra, as though it were a glass to toast with.

"Bonne nuit !" he exclaimed. "Bonne chance, Marie."

He stood looking at her.

"Mercí beaucoup," Marie said.

He gave a slight bow of his head and picked up his parchment. Then he disappeared through the doorway. But he had forgotten to close the door behind him, so Charles reached into the room and gently pulled the door shut. Even this hushed sound echoed all the way down the long hallway.

"Are you tired?" Charles asked. He walked over to her. "It is so dark in this hall."

"I'm not really that tired," Marie said. "Not after a night like this."

Charles chuckled and, though he stood several feet away from Marie, extended his arm its entire length and placed his hand on Marie's shoulder. His other hand held the bronze lantern, with its three flames quivering inside together.

"Should I really take the St. John's Wort?"

"As I think about this more, yes you should. Come. Let us walk back together."

He removed his hand from her shoulder and they began to pace slowly.

"As George has said to you many times, take this crushed flower we give to you as a tea, as a hot tea. But most importantly of all, visit the apothecary of your home and ask him more about St. John's Wort. The magnificent flower. It will help you to feel a little better I think. I am sure of this."

"My apothecary?" Marie asked.

"Yes, your apothecary."

"Oh," Marie said. "You mean my doctor?"

"Yes, yes, your doctor. Your doctor. This is what I want to say. It is better for you to speak to him, because I am not an expert in matters such as this. It is a common thing, this herb. It is used by apothecaries all throughout Europe and even America."

Charles began to yawn. He pulled his wrist out from under his robe to check the time, but he was not wearing a watch.

"It is really becoming late now. I do not believe how soon are the morning prayers again."

"Oh," Marie said. "I will hold off on the St. John's Wort for now then. But I will definitely look into it."

"Yes," said Charles. "It is something you need not hurry towards this night, but something of which you should be very aware."

Marie nodded.

Charles yawned again and looked down the dark hallway.

"Do you have more questions to me?" he asked. "We can always talk more tomorrow if it is necessary."

"Actually," Marie said with pleasantness, "I don't think so. I think I'm good. I have made note of everything you've told me. You can go sleep and prepare for your morning prayers. But mercí beaucoup, Charles. Mercí beaucoup."

Charles nodded his head at her in a way that was warm yet also formal.

"I see you tomorrow, sweet girl." He opened the door to the office, and Marie walked confidently into the darkness. Charles then quietly pulled the door until it secured shut.

Chapter 36

"Time for waking up! Time for waking up!"

Marie tried to keep her eyes closed beneath the electric light. She felt cold, having slept the night with only a thin blanket. She wrapped Gary's arms more tightly around her chest in an effort to warm herself.

"Just ten more minutes," Chris could be heard moaning from the couch. "Come on, Charles."

"I'm so sorry to you, children, but you have to go. It has already become 10 a.m. in the morning, and I have meetings in here all the day. Your bus is here and she will leave in thirty minutes. Time for waking up! Time for waking up!"

Unable to stand the monk's deafening voice, the students stood up and began preparing their bags. With Charles' permission, a few of them left momentarily to use the bathroom.

Charles approached Marie as she was fumbling with the zipper of her brown hooded sweatshirt, her backpack by her side. He spoke to her in a hushed tone.

"You are a special, wonderful girl. And I hope we see each other not before long."

Marie gave Charles a sweet smile. "I promise I'll come back and visit you," she said.

"You must."

"Can I write to you?" she asked.

"Bien sûr ! I give you my address. I check this each day."

Charles rushed over to the desk and began scribbling on a piece of paper.

Marie laughed. "I've never written to a monk before," she said nervously.

Charles chuckled and handed her the paper. Marie wrote down her address for him as well.

They stood before each other as the other students were scurrying around the room. Marie observed as she looked into Charles' face that his wrinkles now seemed to give him an almost youthful vigor.

"Well, thank you so much for everything," she said. "Seriously, thank you so much."

"It is my pleasure. But now, is there anything you wish to ask to me after the conversation last night? There is still time for this if you wish, I promise."

"Well—" She said, and looked toward the ground. She twitched her upper lip slightly, in thought. "You know what? That's okay. I guess I just feel so comfortable with what I learned last night. I don't really want to hear anything else because I feel like I'm starting to get it and I don't want to mess with it, if that makes sense." She smiled up at him. "And I can always write to you if I need to."

"This is a very good idea I think," Charles said.

She went in to give him a hug. As Charles hugged her back, he started laughing heartily though also quietly.

"We are in France, Marie. We don't—how do you say this word?—'hug'?"

Marie laughed and nodded.

"We do not hug in this land," Charles continued. "We do the 'kiss-kiss'. But it is okay this one time."

A moment later, they drew away from each other.

"Well, thank you again," Marie said, looking up at him.

"It is my pleasure," he said quickly. He gave her a quick grin. "But now, I think I must say to you, bon voyage."

He then took a step back and surveyed the area.

"Ah, alors, everyone is ready to go now," he said with a satisfied tone. "Now, listen to me. Your bus is here, and she is leaving to go to the city of Rennes very, very soon. She is the first in the line in the parking place when one exits the abbey. You should see this bus right away, but Bernard waits in the hallway, and he will assist you. This is the only bus going to Rennes. My brother Bernard will lead the way. Now you must please go."

The students quickly emptied out of the room. In the hallway, Charles gave them each a robust handshake and offered an apology for rushing them that seemed to be heartfelt.

As they ambled down the staircase and came out onto the square by the site's entrance, they found a scene that had wholly transformed from the night before. Stepping into the piercing sunlight, they squinted their eyes as they observed the pandemonium. Hundreds of tourists were scampering up the paths to reach the abbey's doors. There were parents pushing strollers, young couples with oversized backpacks, and traveling groups of senior citizens led by animated guides. Tourists were speaking languages from all across the world, and the mixture of their tongues added to the cacophony already present. Vendors behind portable carts were selling paninis, gelato, maps, and postcards to passersby. And beyond the castle walls, one could hear the blaring sound of car horns and engines.

The students readied themselves to fight through the crowds and evade the scene. Following Bernard, they deftly traversed the entrance area and, squeezing past bodies in the gateway, exited into the parking lot. There, Bernard pointed out the bus to Rennes, and the students all boarded happily.

*

Gary and Marie sat next to each other on the bus trip to Rennes, on the train ride to Paris, and on the high-speed train ride back to Faubourg. Marie noticed that she was now often successful in pushing aside those thoughts that asked whether she should get tested for HIV. Sometimes, however, the thoughts became too much for her, and as she struggled and succumbed, her limbs grew heavy. Gary often noticed when Marie would start tensing up. She would cross her arms and legs, scratch her neck, or stare at the floor a few feet ahead of her and become quiet. When anxiety gripped her like this, Gary would wrap his arm around her and let her head sit on his shoulder. He would talk to her about things that he knew would get her mind thinking calmly again.

"Tell me about Notes from Underground," Gary said, lowering his cheek onto her hair.

"Come on, Gary," Marie said.

"Tell me why it's such a good book."

She scratched around her neck.

"It's just such an amazing book," Marie said. "Dostoevsky just gets inside the mind of the character so well. I don't know. He describes the pain so well of feeling like you're an insect surrounded by beasts. And then there's this final scene with falling snow. And it's just so sad, to see the main character, out in the falling snow, hoping so much to find the girl he just threw away, the girl whom he knew was his last chance at happiness." She took his arm and began to slowly stroke it with her fingertips. "I'm not explaining this very well. Ask me another question."

Gary looked sideways at Marie to see her eyes eager, her face bright.

*

A couple of hours later, Marie found her eyes momentarily fixated on Chris' white baseball hat. He was sitting two rows in front of her and Gary. Chris had decided to make the trip back with them to Faubourg and to stay with Russell for a few days. He claimed he still needed "a real vacation." Marie wondered whether that was the reason, or if perhaps Chris had simply grown attached to their little group and wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. Probably, Marie reasoned, it was a combination of the two. Then, to her surprise, Chris turned around and called to her and Gary, at the very moment that he and the image of his cap were in the forefront of her mind. His elbows and chin were dangling over the back of his seat.

"So when's the wedding you guys?" he joked.

"Haha, Chris. Very funny," Gary said.

There was a brief pause as the light laughter between them died down.

"Whenever it is, you'll be invited," she said to Chris with a full grin.

"Can't wait," Chris said. "Seriously, guys, congratulations."

"Aw, thanks Chris! That was sweet," she exclaimed.

"Thanks man," Gary said.

"Sure thing," Chris said nonchalantly. He smiled at the two of them. The tautness of his cheeks then dissipated as the grin fell off his face. He turned back around.

The high-speed train was tunneling through the night, moving southward, directly from Paris to Faubourg. Russell, sitting beside Chris, had fallen asleep, his head pressed onto the window. Danielle and Ariel were resting in the seat in front of Marie and Gary. Across the aisle, Morgan was sharing a seat with Sarah, her cheek molded onto Sarah's shoulder. They, too, were sleeping.

The train was dark. Only the pale emergency lights outlining the exits and the personalized reading lamps above prevented the car from being overtaken by shadows.

"So how old do you want to be when you get married?" Gary whispered to Marie.

"I don't know," Marie said. "Whenever it feels right I guess. What about you?"

"I definitely want to settle down someday," Gary said. "But I'm not exactly sure when. I hope I marry you though."

"Aw," Marie said, receiving his kiss on the cheek. "Yeah, it's weird. I don't even necessarily agree with the institution of marriage. It seems pretty silly and biblical to just exclusively devote your life to one person. It seems kind of unnatural I guess. Kind of goes against evolution. But despite all that, I feel like I have to get married. And I'm sure I will. It's just been instilled in me, you know?"

"Yeah, but think about how many people there are who are so happy to be able to get married and spend their lives together," Gary said.

Marie paused for a second in thought. "I guess that's true."

"So, come on—what age?" He nudged her teasingly.

She laughed and then sighed. "Probably sooner rather than later, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't want to go back to doing the 'college' thing. I feel like I'm ready to grow up, like I need to grow up. Besides, if we lived in any generation besides this one and the last, you would already be a war veteran, and I'd be married with two kids."

Gary chuckled.

"How's it going, guys?"

Marie and Gary looked up to see Ariel's head suddenly poke out into the aisle from the seat in front of them. A nearby reading lamp was throwing a warm light on her face.

"We're actually talking about the institution of marriage," Gary said.

"Cool! What about it?"

Marie gave a quick breath. "Well, I was just saying how, if we had lived just a few generations ago, you and I would both be married with kids by now."

"Yeah, that's so true," Ariel said.

"When do you want to get married?" Gary asked her.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Whenever the right guy comes along I suppose."

Everybody laughed.

"Sounds like a good plan," Gary said.

"I'm definitely not in any rush though," Ariel said in a more serious tone.

"Me neither," Gary said. They all were silent for a moment.

"Well," Ariel said, yawning, "I should try to get some sleep. But I just wanted to say that I think you two are so cute."

"You're so sweet, Ariel," Marie said, looking proud.

"Thanks!" Gary said.

Ariel gave them a long smile. Her face looked so cozy and inviting at the brief moment right before she turned her head back around. Then she was once again facing forward and resting her head on Danielle.

The train was humming through the deep evening, a silver projectile in the bottomless blue of night. They were only hurtling from Paris to Faubourg, but it felt as though they were riding on the surface of a black hole, where the air, the darkness, and the train moved alongside one another, immediately swallowing up all that they rushed past and leaving nothing but a void behind them.

Now Marie was beginning to feel sleepy. Right before closing her eyes, she looked for Gary's hand on hers. It was still there, and she was grateful for this tiny piece of solace that stayed with her even as the last reading lamp dimmed and darkened.

###
