The poor casserole is left unfinished while her beer is empty to the bottom of the glass. I remain at her former table, finishing my salad, so I could go back to navigating the route to France. But this is harder than I thought: First, the whole ordeal requires me to multitask–navigating incognito (if that’s not hard enough) while also keeping a lookout on those so-called unwanted parties (what if they only bluffed on this and the so-called parties are just a way of trying to keep me focused on the mission?); Second, I have to get Blue Rain on Saturday night, approximately thirty hours from now. I have a lot of birds to kill with one stone. It’s almost impossible. My life has turned into a ticking bomb the moment I signed the contract.
“You need someone with you.” Michel’s words echo in my head. “Traveling alone will easily expose you. It will make you less distinguishable. You could be a tourist or some sort. You need to divert the Skydome’s people’s attention. Even if they breach into Hensley Corps’ employee data, they won’t find you on the database.”
“You know this can instantly send me to jail, don’t you?” I replied.
“I didn’t tell you to kidnap someone. I’m saying you could use someone—a friend, maybe—to mask your presence and distract any uninvited guest.” Michel sighed. His last words sent chills down my spine. “I know what’s on your mind. But not everyone knows how to navigate their way across Europe like you. We need you, Dupont. And you know you need us too.”
Would that help though? Maybe that will slow down the Skydome people who are after Blue Rain. It’s even harder given I travel solo for the most part. I travel alone but I do meet people along the way. I don’t necessarily stay with them. In Berlin, Abel has been if not the nicest, the closest person I have to a friend. His hospitality is impeccable. He discounts my stay whenever I’m in Berlin. He’ll probably be interested, except he has a hostel to take care of.
But it’s always the image of the auburn girl that passes by in my head. Her whole conversation reels back in. Out of all her jumbled words, I figured she wanted to “get out”. My brain tries hard to assemble her words together until the whole thing makes sense…
…and I hit a jackpot.
I feel like being possessed in the next couple of minutes: I ask a fellow student sitting two tables away if I can use her laptop real quick, because booting mine up would take forever. Much of my relief and her confusion, she complies and lets me access the internet. In just a second, I’ve booked two (yes, two) train tickets to Paris. If all else fails, I swear I’m going to quit doing crazy things that have become nothing but a hobby, sort of. Moving around included. I thank the girl—who replies with a confused blink—gather my things then I sprint out of the cafe.
Please, let me find her. I quicken my pace. I scan the streets, searching for the auburn-haired. Auburn hair, auburn hair, where are you?
My feet takes me on the direction back to the hostel, where she’s also staying. I cross the main street—Bachstraße—into Wegelystraße, where I catch her Golden Gate keychain dangling on her bag.
“Mademoiselle!” I call her out.
“Jesus! What?!” She gasps, stumbling a few steps backwards like I’m about to mug her.
“I thought about your words earlier. About you trying to get out and everything. Perhaps I can help you with that.”
“What are you talking about? Stay away…”
“I can get you out of here.” I say firmly. She freezes. “Just for the weekend. I’m going to Paris tonight and my friend bailed out. The ticket is non-refundable.”
“You’re selling me a ticket?”
“No, not sell. The tickets are a gift, bought by…uh, my friend’s cousin in Paris. He really wants his cousin and me to come visit. Um, Roland—the cousin—and I are old friends.”
The girl doesn’t say anything, unamused by my ‘story’.
“You heard about Michel. He is Roland’s cousin who’s supposed to travel with me, but he bailed out as you know. Now I travel alone and I prefer not to. Roland is only available to meet me tomorrow night.” I gulp. “So, yeah, I’m inviting you to come to Paris. With me.”
“You’re kidding.” she scoffs.
“Not that I remember.”
“You know that Paris is not even in this country, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I’m French.” I hold up my hands. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but trust me I have nothing but good intentions. If you don’t believe me, you can always walk out anytime you want.”
“What makes you think I want to come to Paris, with you?”
“You said it yourself. You’re bored. If you want to get out, go somewhere, this is your chance.” he replies. “Also, you’re seeking inspiration, so I thought I could help.”
“But I don’t know anyone in Paris. I’ll get lost.”
It sounds like she’s unfamiliar with the city. This is where I’ll take my chance.
“You know me. I won’t dump you when we get there. Here’s the deal: I won’t be meeting Roland until 7 pm tomorrow, which means I have the whole day free.” I say. “Have you been to Paris before?”
“No.”
“Perfect! I’ll take you around, explain things and places to you. I won’t even charge you for that. Not even a meal. You’re just going to fill an empty spot for a friend.”
The girl ponders into the empty street. “I mean, yeah, Paris sure does sound interesting.” she murmurs, dragging the word ‘sure’. “I do want to check out some places there, like the Louvre.”
“You’ll get to see it.”
“And that cafe in Amelie movie.”
“That’s my favorite cafe!” No, it’s not. I don’t care. Although yes, I did have a crush on Audrey Tautou when I was little. I still do these days. Anyway, what matters is, this girl is coming with me. “You can name any place and I’ll take you.”
“What’s the guarantee?”
“You can walk out anytime, but to be honest, this offer is as best as I could give to anyone.”
She squints her eyes at me. “What exactly do you do?”
“As I said, I travel a lot. I just happen to be en route back home. Not that Paris is my hometown, but still. Think of this trip as a weekend getaway. Something you can talk to your friends about so they’ll know what they’re missing out.” I say. Her face loosens this time. “I understand if you need some time. If you decide to go, meet me at Berlin Hauftbahnhof at 8.45 pm the latest. The train’s leaving at 9 pm.”
I go on explaining about the routes the train will take. We’ll make a stop at Cologne–or Koln, in its German spelling–a four-hour layover before the train leaves non-stop to Paris. According to schedule, we should arrive in Paris at 10 am. That leaves us about 9 hours to spend there before 7 pm. I tell her if she agrees to come, I’ll cover for a train back to Berlin that very night, which I should be booking as soon as we get on the train to Cologne. As she is going back to Berlin, I’ll be delivering the file and collecting my payment. She just nods along the way, oblivious of my real intention. I write down the departure time, train number, and platform on a piece of paper from my notebook, which she takes hesitatingly.
“If I say no. You’ll be completely alone?” she hesitates.
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter for me, but you, you’ll be missing out on something.” I remark. “You’re scared. I can see. But you don’t know what you’ll find until you take a step. It can be, I don’t know, borderline crazy.”
Her nose wrinkles as she holds the piece of paper I gave to her. “Alright, so, I have seven hours to think it through?”
“Seven hours.” I nod. “I guess I need to know your name too in case we’ll see each other later.”
“Gigi.”
“As in Gilberte? Ginevre?”
“No, Gianna.”
“Voila, Gianna. It’s nice meeting you.” I shake hands with her. Her hand is cold and small and lean against my larger, firmer grip. “I’m Claude. Like ‘Load’.”
“Claude?” she pronounces my name carefully.
“Or Clo. You can call me Clo.”
All of a sudden, my phone rings. I sigh when I see Michel’s name. I can almost see his expression just by reading his caller ID on my phone screen. I can hear him asking how I’m getting on with my trip to Paris and if I’ve found someone to tag along with.
“I’m sorry, I have to pick this up.” I say. “But just remember. Platform 5. Berlin Hauftbahnhof. 8.45 pm the latest.”
“Wa–”
But Michel won’t wait. I leave Gigi and sprint to find a quiet alley near the exit to Bachstraße. Both excitement and anxiety send my stomach churning. I won’t be able to sit still until 8.45 pm strikes. I wish the flicker in her eyes when I offered her the Parisian tour is a good sign. Besides, Michel will be psyched to hear that he has a replacement–
–although I’m sure he won’t like the idea that Gigi also read his message.
Carissa Tandiono 