Mrs. Q was shaking her head. “There are very few people in this world that can drag tears out of me, Aristotle Mendoza. And you happen to be one of them.”
“That might be one of the nicest things anybody’s ever said to me.”
“Look at you. Look at yourself.” Her voice could be firm and stubborn and kind all at the same time. “The first time I saw you come into this house, you hardly said a word—shy and unsure of yourself. Tell me, when did you become a man?”
“Who says I did?”
“I do,” she said. “Even so, you don’t know your way around Paris.”
Sam said, “I’ve made some arrangements for you to stay with our friend Gerald Marcus. He’s an American who’s made Paris his home. He was once my mentor, and he’s a kind and generous man. I’ve already spoken to him, and he’s more than happy to have you as a guest in his apartment. And he even offered to pick you up at the airport. He’ll be holding a sign with your name on it when you arrive at the airport. I understand you have a plan.”
“I do.” I held out an envelope. “Would you call Dante for me and read this to him? There’s nothing all that personal in it. It’s just the date, time, and place where I’m asking him to meet me.”
Mrs. Q took the envelope from me. “I’ll take care of it.”
I nodded. “I don’t know how to thank you. I really don’t. Losing Dante doesn’t mean just losing Dante. It means losing you, too.” I felt those familiar tears running down my face. “I’m sorry. I mean, I hate that I’ve learned how to cry. I just hate it.”
“You shouldn’t ever be ashamed of your tears. Sam cries all the time. We love Dante. And Sam and I love you too. That will never change. What is between you and Dante is between you and Dante. You will always be welcome in this house. And don’t you ever walk away from us, Aristotle Mendoza.”
“I won’t,” I said. “I promise.”
Forty-Nine
MY BAGS WERE PACKED, AND I was waiting for Sam to pick me up to take me to the airport. My mother had a smile on her face. “You’ve never been on an airplane, have you?”
“No. Not ever.”
She handed me two pills. “This one is for motion sickness—just in case. And if you get restless and start to fill your busy mind with thoughts that aren’t going to do you any good except make you a wreck, then take this one. It will put you right to sleep. It’s an eleven- hour flight.”
“Mom, you’re such a mom.”
“Thank you. It’s one of the things I’m good at.”
As we were standing on the front porch. Gina’s car pulled up in front of the house. And the three champions of equal rights got out of the car. “We caught you just in time. We had to give you a hug for luck.”
“I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of you.”
“You don’t deserve us? Sometimes I think you haven’t learned a damn thing. Just shut the hell up. It’s a good thing you’ve got a plane to catch or I’d be kicking your ass just about now.”
My mother shook her head. “You’ve got to love these girls.”
Just then, Sam’s car pulled up in front of the house.
I hugged my mother. “Que Dios me lo cuide,” she whispered. She made the sign of the cross on my forehead.
Susie and Gina gave me another hug. There was so much hope and love in their eyes. I would take their hope with me. All the way to Paris.
Cassandra looked into my eyes. “There isn’t anything to say except I love you.”
“I love you back,” I said.
* * *
As we drove away, I asked Sam, “Where would we be without women?”
“We’d be in hell,” Sam said, “that’s where we’d be.”
* * *
Sam helped me with my bag at the airport. I had a suitcase and a backpack. He handed me an envelope. “That’s all the information you need.” Of course, he’d gone over the itinerary twice on the way to the airport. And he told me at least three times that Dante knew where and what time we were to meet. And I kept reminding him that I was the one who’d set the time and place and I wasn’t likely to forget. He was more nervous than I was.
He gave me a hug. “And give my love to Dante. And, Ari, no matter what happens, everything is going to be all right.”
* * *
I thought I’d be a little scared on my first flight—but I was more excited than scared. I had a window seat, and as the plane took off, I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach—and a fleeting moment of fear. And then the calmness of the summer clouds gave me a sense of peace. I looked out the window the whole flight. I must have been really lost in what I was seeing, because it seemed like we were landing just after we’d taken off.
I didn’t have a hard time finding the gate for my flight to Paris. I was getting more and more excited. I mean, like, little-kid excited. I didn’t have much of a layover, and soon enough I found myself handing over my passport and my ticket as I boarded the plane.
I had an aisle seat, which was perfect. I guess I felt that sitting in a window seat staring out at the darkness might be a little frightening. I watched the people board, some of them laughing, some of them stressed. Some of them speaking English, some of them speaking French. They served us dinner soon after the plane took off. I got served a mini bottle of wine with my dinner. I ate the chicken and pasta, but I didn’t taste it. I drank my wine.
I was restless and thinking about everything, and I was turning myself into a nervous wreck. I decided to take my mother’s advice and take the pill that she said would make me sleep. And the next thing I knew it, the woman next to me was waking me up. “We’re about to land,” she said.
I felt the beating of my own heart.
Paris. I was in Paris.
* * *
A lot of people looked annoyed going through customs, but they must have been seasoned travelers. I thought going through customs was interesting. There were so many people, and the airport was huge. And I felt so small—but for some reason I wasn’t at all scared. But, man, was I ever awake. I mean, I was super awake and curious about everything I saw. Paris. I was in Paris. It wasn’t hard to know what to do and where to go. I just followed everybody. I did get confused once, but the woman who had been sitting next to me on the plane noticed the look of confusion on my face. “This way,” she said. Her French accent was nice.
After I went through customs, I walked into the passenger pickup area. There was an older gentleman holding up a sign with my name on it. “I’m Ari,” I said.
“I’m Gerald. Welcome to Paris.”
* * *
Gerald looked like a distinguished, well-to-do older gentleman who had the eyes and smile of a much younger man. He was talkative and friendly, and I was glad because he made me feel at ease. Gerald took me on a practice run to the Louvre and back so I wouldn’t get lost. But the Metro wasn’t hard to maneuver. Not at all. I didn’t feel as disoriented as I’d thought I would. Gerald said I was a natural. He took me to a nice café for lunch. He ordered wine. I told him I wasn’t old enough to drink.