Tales From a Broad (8 page)

“Right. That’s her name.” I was starting to
lose patience.

Jolanda drew in a breath. “I’m going to...”
she trailed off pointing to her seat.

I simply nodded.

A man walked past us and smiled.
“
Morgen
, ladies.”

“Goademorgen
,” Jolanda answered.

I closed my eyes in shame.

“Bonjour
,
Le Palais
,” said the
voice at the other end of my phone. I perked up, feeling much more
hopeful for Paris. However, first, I just had to get through this
day.

* * * *

A visit to the Van Gogh Museum, a tour of
Anne Frank’s house, and one boat cruise later, we stumbled out of a
coffee shop in the red light district. “Pot and coffee—kind of
counterproductive, no?” I grabbed Tess’s arm for support.

“It works just fine for me, partner!” Tess
sang gleefully. She linked my elbow with hers and swung me around
as if we were doing a square dance. I planted my feet firmly on the
ground and without missing a beat, Tess traded me for a
lamppost.

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into
this,” I said. “When you asked if I wanted to share a dessert, I
was thinking more along the lines of oh, I don’t know. Maybe a
slice of Dutch apple pie? A piece of almond cake? Not a hash
brownie. If your mother could see us now.”

“Shh.” Tess held a finger to her lips as she
reverted back to her do-si-do with the lamppost. “I say, what
happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam.”

“You got that right,” I agreed. “Isn’t pot
supposed to make everyone laugh and act silly? Figures I’m the one
percent who has the adverse reaction.”

“Maybe you need a little more help to beat
the blues.” Tess had a glimmer in her eye as she rubbed her hands
together.

“Um, I don’t think so. The pot did nothing
but help me
greet
the blues, thank you very much. You know,
you shouldn’t have let me do this,” I scolded.

“I don’t recall tying your hands behind your
back. Since when am
I
in charge of
you
?”

Her hand flew to her mouth in horror, and she
gasped, stopping in her tracks. “Oh my God. What if I’m really Aunt
Tess and you’re really my niece, Lucy?”

I closed my eyes in despair. “We are going
right back to the hostel, I can’t even imagine what your mother
would say if she knew ...”

“My mother would probably say we should stop
and eat something. I’ve got the munchies and Dutch candy from the
vending machine ain’t gonna cut it!”

“Fine,” I said sternly, steering her body in
the direction of our hostel. “First food and then we’re going
back.” I looked at my watch. It was eight p.m., which meant that it
was two p.m., in New York, the exact time our ceremony was supposed
to have started. I willed myself not to think about it. Eat and go
to bed. The day would be over soon.

I sulked my way through the city, and we
ended up at the same diner we ate at this morning. The waitress
came to take our order.

“I would love some eggs, please.” That’s when
the floodgates opened. I put my head down on the table, banged my
fists, and started to sob. “I just want some friggin’ eggs.”

“She, um, can’t have kids,” Tess said in an
obnoxiously loud whisper. “Then her fiancée cancelled their
wedding. It would have been happening,”—she paused to look at her
watch—“like now. O-M-G. Now!!!” she exclaimed. “Can you give us a
minute please?”

The waitress seemed completely unfazed by my
tantrum and Tess’s dramatic narration. She must have been
accustomed to stoned Americans. What she didn’t realize was that if
I had eggs, I wouldn’t have been sitting in her booth. I’d be
saying my vows right about now to the man I had thought was the
love of my life. Instead, I was a grown woman half-baked into
oblivion.

“I’m sorry.” I sniffed when I looked up at
Tess several moments later. “I’m not one for public meltdowns. I
think the pot made me extra emotional. It’s just...” I wrung my
hands together in despair and felt stickiness from the tears and
mascara. “You know, I think there was a part of me that was hoping
Cooper had kept his hold on the Waldorf-Astoria and would whisk me
away right to the wedding I’d always wanted.”

Tess’s eyes widened upon hearing her
delusional Aunt’s true confession. After a moment, she reached
across the table and folded her hands over mine, looking stone-cold
sober.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Lu. You do not deserve to be
in this much pain. Cooper has no idea what he’s lost.”

“Thanks,” I sighed and gave her hand a
squeeze back. “Hey, would you mind if we went back to the room? I
promise, I’ll treat you to a feast in the morning. I have no
appetite and can’t sit here anymore.”

“You’re on, but if you think I’m waiting
until morning, you’re crazy. The vending machines will have to
suffice. I have munchies that cannot be controlled!” Tess popped a
piece of gum into her mouth.

We walked out of the diner, and suddenly I
had an impulse I couldn’t control. I took my phone out of my
bag.

“Tess, please don’t tell your mother what I’m
about to do. I need closure,” I declared.

“No,” Tess said firmly. “You don’t
mean...”

I nodded. “Remember, what you said earlier,
what happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam.” Just the thought of
making some sort of contact, any contact, with Cooper, was enough
to make me smile. “Don’t worry,” I said, waving my hand. “I’m just
going to say a quick hi. Keep it light.”

“Aunt Lu, you’re going to regret this. You do
not want to go there. Remember our conversation earlier today?
Materialistic? Damaged?”

“Aren’t we all, Tessie. I just told you the
negatives. We didn’t get into his positives. As you know, a
negative and a positive balance each other out. They equal a
neutral. That, my dear, is exactly what I am about to make. A
neutral hello.”

“No, a negative and a positive equal a big,
fat zero.” She formed a circle with her fingers and waved it in
front of my face.

I just smiled. I began to dial.

“Oh my God, it’s ringing.” I looked at Tess,
who was gnawing away on her nails.

It rang four times and then his voicemail
picked up. I could feel the color drain from my face as I listened
to his recorded voice.

“He changed his message,” I whispered. I felt
as if I had been kicked in the gut. What else had he changed? Was
he dating? Did he ever think about me?

Hearing his voice brought up so many
emotions—bitterness, sadness, hurt, jealousy, betrayal, and major
anxiety, followed by an enormous wave of nausea. My hands shook at
the beep of his voicemail. I cleared my throat and watched Tess
crack her knuckles.

“Hi Cooper...it’s me. Lucy. It’s been awhile.
Three months actually,” I laughed bitterly into the phone. “But
who’s counting, right?”

I cleared my throat again. “Happy wedding
day,” I sang in a too-high, slightly manic tone. “I’m in Amsterdam.
Celebrating the single life. Celibacy...” I looked over at Tess and
cringed. She had her face buried in her hands.

“I’m kidding. Not really.” A lump rose in my
throat and it actually hurt to swallow it. “Cooper,” I choked, “why
did you leave me? Why did you do this to us?”

Tess lunged for my phone, and I turned my
back to her, walking towards a footbridge. “I figured you would
come to your senses, but maybe you already had. Did you ever love
me? You were my life!” At that point, I was sobbing into the
phone.

Some nasty comments may have followed, but if
they had, within seconds, my mind had blocked them. I heard Tess’s
heavy footsteps coming up behind me.

“We had plans,” I wailed and tripped onto the
bridge to get away from her. “We were supposed to grow old
together. We were supposed to...”

“Hey!” I yelled angrily at Tess who had
pretty much pushed the phone out of my hand while pressing buttons
to end the call. The phone fell to the ground near my feet. “Why
did you do that?”

“Why did
you
do that?” Tess sighed and
shook her head sadly. She leaned against the bridge and stared at
me with her arms folded defensively against her chest. “Can’t you
think a little more of yourself? Or if you don’t, at least pretend
you do. For once?”

I pushed out my lip and folded my hands
across my chest. “You’re too young to understand.” The heart to
heart we’d had earlier that afternoon felt like it had never
happened. We were back on two different playing fields.

“No, Aunt Lu, that’s where you’re wrong. I
was never, ever, too young to understand how special you are.”

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and
looked away, unable to meet her gaze. I was beginning to feel
mortified about my actions in front of my niece. Once upon a time,
she had looked up to me.

A tour boat passed beneath the bridge, and
despite the happy sounds of music, laughter, and clinking glasses,
an awkward silence hung between us. I took a few sips of air to
steady my breathing.

Suddenly, my phone rang, and Tess and I
sprung into action. We simultaneously bent down to grab it and
bumped heads in the process. The phone lit up and Cooper’s name and
number flashed across the screen.

“Please.” Tess placed a gentle hand on my
arm. “Don’t pick it up. He hurt you so bad.”

My forehead smarted, but I remained frozen in
a crouched position, listening to it ring for the third time. I
grabbed onto the bridge to help support my wobbly legs as I stood
up.

“I’ll just let him leave a voicemail,” I said
weakly. He never did.

Chapter
Four

You can take the girl out of New York, but
you can’t take the New York out of the girl.

Facebook Status June 8 at 2:00pm

“I feel like I’ve died and gone to
Versailles,” I whispered loudly as Tess and I stepped into the
lobby of the hotel we’d booked in Paris. “Thank you for this
brilliant idea.
Merci, merci, merci
!” I enthusiastically
tugged on her arm as we both looked around the majestic hotel.

That morning, I’d woken up in Amsterdam,
feeling surprisingly optimistic. It was a brand new day, and taking
a break from roughing it definitely upped my happiness quotient.
With the promise of a high thread count ahead, I was hardly
bothered when the hostel shower refused my token again that
morning. My irritation level was fairly low on the Richter scale,
and I’d decided it was going to stay that way.

I’d survived the would-be wedding day, the
sink baths were over, and to top it all off, on the train from
Amsterdam to Paris, I’d gotten an email from Janice Preston, an old
friend with whom I used to work. She was now an editor at a travel
magazine, and after she’d heard I’d gone to Europe for an extended
period of time, she’d written to ask if I’d be interested in
pitching an idea or two for an article.

Au revoir
to yesterday. Paris was
definitely off to a great start, and today I planned to sip
champagne in style.

“Aunt Lu, you’re the one I should be
thanking,” Tess said. “I still feel really guilty. My plan wasn’t
to pick a fancy hotel and have you pay for it. Mark and his brother
have great taste.”

“Yes they do, and thank God for that. Don’t
even give it another thought. This is my gift to you.” Excitement
filled me as I looked around the lobby. My eyes wandered from the
marble floor, to the dark antique furniture and works of eighteenth
century art, and then up to the crown moldings and crystal
chandeliers.

“After that last place...” I said with a
shudder.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

I gave Tess a sideways glance. “It may have
been charming on the outside, but I’m too old for dormitory living.
And will you look at that guy behind the front desk? Are all French
men that handsome?” I whispered.

“Who, him?” Tess followed my gaze. “You think
he’s better looking than the guy we gave the key back to this
morning?”

My mouth fell open, but turned into a smile
when I realized she was kidding. The man who had checked us out of
the hostel in Amsterdam had looked as if he had been on a
three-month bender.

“Justin Bieber’s greasy older brother? Just a
tad. C’mon, let’s check in so we can ditch these things.” I
adjusted my heavy backpack.

We approached the front desk, and I began to
feel self-conscious about the way we were dressed. “I cannot wait
to get out of these clothes,” I murmured to Tess through gritted
teeth.

She was wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt,
and I had on my well-worn leggings and a stretched-out tank top.
That would’ve been fine if we had Louis Vuitton luggage as arm
candy, but the backpacks did little to enhance our look.

“Bonjour, Mesdemoiselles
,” the
handsome man said, making my arm hair stand on end. He could have
said, “Hello, you dirty American sluts”
,
but with his
beautiful French tongue, anything would’ve sounded seductive. I
glanced at his nametag:
Claude
.

“Bonjour
.” I smiled and tapped Tess’s
foot with my own. I leaned on the counter and drew a hand to my
face, tracing the not-so-hollows of my cheeks.

“Parlez-vous francais
?” he said.

“No,” I said apologetically, half-attempting
to look sexy. I had been warned the French don’t appreciate it when
Americans won’t even try to speak their language. Yet, I had
nothing to say. “
Un poco espa
ñ
ol
,” I offered,
with a friendly chuckle.

“I see. Name please?” He smiled tersely.

“It’s under Tess McNally.” I handed him my
credit card.

Tess shifted uncomfortably and gave me a
gracious smile. She had never been good at accepting generosity
from others.

“Mesdemoiselles
, where are you
traveling from today?”