Page 1 (1/1)
1
Weaver
It’s all so last minute, this trip to Paris, but I couldn’t bear to say no to eda restaurant in Paris, and toht I kneas Kate’s plan to move to Paris and pursue her culinary career here, but the speed at which she acco I have to ade and already she’s ticked off two major accomplishments from her bucket list I can’t help but compare my current situation to hers, and I really hate myself for it This is a trip to celebrate et to work back in New York, before I step up toplan and start to take back my life
“Gare du Nord,” the tinny voice announces, re me that the Paris Metro awaits me first Just as planned, I stride off the train and onto the platfors all accounted for and none left behind on the train I find quiet area to the side of the platfors and check my phone I’m not about to spend beaucoup bucks on an international SIM card, so I wait for my phone to connect to the station’s free Wi-Fi network I know Kate will have already texted me a dozen times My plane had been delayed a couple of hours, and she was skeptical I could e on public transportation Just as I expected, as soon as es pop up from Kate, each with a few more exclaist is, Are you fucking here yet? I text back, Arrived at Gare du Nord and heading to Air BnB Paris, baaaaby! S, I tuck my phone back in my purse
Travelers on the platform bustle around me and I sith pride that I’ve ht it was preposterous that I’d take the train (“The train, Weaver?”) from the airport, but I knew I could do it Weaver Jones, ever resourceful and independent! Weaver Jones, ever stubborn and alone, my ard that nagging voice, walking down the platforns to the Paris Metro Since when is it a bad thing to have confidence in yourself? Ever since childhood, I’ve strived to do things my oay, and it’s served ht I’d refused to allowmy Girl Scout cookies order form to his office and I’d only sold a dozen boxes to hbors? It was my responsibility and he wasn’t a Girl Scout I didn’t ot was a participation patch I knew her mom had sold most of those boxes and I’d won , fair and square What can I say? I’ve always felton me, myself and I
Me,a beat-up accordion It’s lovely, and it bringthe quintessential French song, La Vie En Rose By his side is his open accordion case, with a few euro coins thrown inside And by the side of that is an older looking dog, son propped next to the case reads Toute aide appreciee Merci For all h the world onbeliever in karma, so any chance I have to throw soerly prop up h my purse for a few bucks for the busker I feel around my passport and credit cards until I find a few bills for him
As , Gare du Nord is too busy to stand around idly with e, so I toss the bills in his accordion case and scratch the sleeping dog’s head Gathering lances down at his case and his set many tips because mine seems to have made his day I walk away as he continues to play and shouts a melodic, “Merci belle bienfaitrice” It was only a few bucks, but if he considers me his “beautiful benefactor,” I’ll take it