Encore

Chapter 9

Actually, despite my earlier words, spending the day in the Louvre sounds okay. I won’t have to do a lot of talking. We’ll simply be looking at art. I like art as much as the next guy. I just don’t know a lot about it.

But something is nagging at me today. I feel…

Jumpy.

Kind of like a grasshopper’s nibbling at the back of my neck and is going to bite through my spine at any moment.

I could give Aunt Melanie a call, except she’d still be in bed right now.

Besides, I know exactly what she’d say.

I’m suffering from some posttraumatic stress disorder. And of course I am. I had a near-death experience last night.

Why are the others handling this so much better than I am? Or are they? The three of them didn’t seem to have any trouble eating, though Maddie only ate a croissant.

I knew I had to have some protein this morning. My energy was already lagging, although I did sleep for at least a few hours after my tryst with Maddie. That helped me more than she can even know. It was hard and fast yet long and drawn out, and I’d love to do it again.

“I want to take the Métro,” Bree says.

“I think we should,” Maddie agrees.

“Okay.” Brock pulls something up on his phone. “There’s a stop just up the block, and I’ve got the route to the Louvre on my phone. Are we ready?”

“Ready,” Brianna and Maddie say in unison.

I simply nod.

“I’m going to hit the head first,” Brock says. “Dave, come on.”

“I don’t have to go,” I say.

“Then keep me company,” he grits out.

I shake my head at him. “Okay.”

We walk to the restroom on the first floor of the hotel.

Once inside, he turns to me. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He wrinkles his forehead. “We’re in Paris, David. Last night was fucked up. But today’s a new day. Appreciate it.”

“I do.”

“Listen,” he says, “Jesse texted me last night after he left you. He said you seemed to be a little off. And now that I’ve seen you, I agree.”

“Fuck Jesse anyway.”

“Look. I know Jesse has had problems with our family in the past, but he’s in love with Brianna, and he’ll be a part of our family in the future. He would be anyway because of me marrying Rory and Donny marrying Callie. I think he cares.”

“He sure didn’t like me sleeping with his sister.”

“Would you want him sleeping with Angie or Sage?”

Brick to gut.

Man, do those words hurt. I feel like I should go apologize to Jesse for fucking his sister.

“Jesse’s over it,” Brock continues before I can reply. “He’s over it because he realizes, after last night, that it’s so easy to get caught up in the little things that don’t matter. So tell me what’s bugging you. I want to help you. This has been traumatic for all of us. Do you need to talk to someone?”

“What if I do?”

“Then we’ll find someone.”

“My French may not be as bad as yours, but I can’t speak to somebody here.”

“We’ll call my mom, then.”

“She’s not even up yet.”

“You think that matters? I’m her favorite son. She’ll take my call.” He grins.

I look at him and frown. “How can you be so…happy?”

He raises his arms to either side of his body. “Because I’m alive, man. And so are you.”

He’s right, at that. “I just feel like I shouldn’t be here. Like if I hadn’t come here, maybe none of this would have happened.”

“We were all going to be on that same chartered flight,” Brock says. “So whether you were here or not, yeah, it would’ve happened.”

I look to the floor and kick at the bathroom tile. “I was so excited about this trip, you know? After dealing with all the bullshit in our family lately. Then when I got here, and Maddie and I kind of hooked up, it was fun. I’m not looking to fall in love, and I don’t think she is either.”

He smirks. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

“What are you saying? She’s in love with me?”

“No, I’m not saying that. But all three of her siblings are now with members of our family. I’m pretty sure it’s on her mind.”

I sigh, rub my hand over my hair. “She’s great, man. This thing between us… It’s new, but it’s great. But that’s all it is. It’s not love. At least I don’t think it is.” I drop my hand to my side. “Hell, I don’t know.”

“Are you feeling something different?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I feel something different with every woman. Don’t you?”

“Of course. It’s always different with a new lover. But I was pretty sure after a few times with Rory. It was different different, if that makes sense. I knew it was something that could blossom into something amazing, and it did.”

“I’m not feeling that yet,” I say.

But I recognize the lie for what it is.

Because I am feeling something different with Maddie. Something that could bloom into something wonderful.

But right now, I’m not sure I know myself. My head is a mess. It’s jumbled with thoughts and horrific images. Of the way my stomach sank to my feet when that plane dropped. The way I had to hold back nausea as I helped Maddie get her yellow mask on before I adjusted my own.

The way I failed to hold back nausea after the fact.

How I…

But I was strong.

I thought of Maddie before I thought of myself.

And now? Now that we’re safe?

I’m in my own head.

I’m fucking freaked out.

“We’re here, man,” Brock says. “Whatever happens between you and Maddie isn’t the biggest thing in the world. The biggest thing is that we’re alive.”

I nod.

Part of me doesn’t agree. Because part of me thinks that what’s happening with Maddie and me is something big. Something fucking huge. But based on where my head is right now? I’m not good enough for her.

“You ready?” Brock asks.

“Don’t you have to take a piss?” I ask.

“No, I’m good. It was an excuse to talk to you.”

I go to the sink, look at my face in the mirror.

I look the same.

Same face that looks like a masculine version of my mother except for the blue eyes that come from my father. The dark hair, the classic Steel jawline, the broad shoulders.

And I recognize myself.

Except I don’t.

Maybe talking to my aunt Melanie wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Maybe I should just go home.

But I won’t. I promised Brock I would stay, at least through Paris. After all, I came here for a vacation. God knows I need one.

Brock washes his hands as well, and we leave the bathroom. The women are still sitting at the table, and they rise.

“All right, Brock,” Brianna says. “Where to first, cuz?”

“To the Métro first,” he says. “And then, on to the Louvre.”

At the entrance to the Louvre is the Louvre pyramid, which looks terribly out of place, in my opinion. It’s a modern design, constructed with glass panes and metal poles, and it juxtaposes oddly against the historic architecture of the museum itself.

I let out a sigh as I follow Brock, Brianna, and Maddie into the museum. I’m not unlike the pyramid.

That brush with death threw me out of whack with who I am.

Brianna’s smile is wide. “Let’s start with the Mona Lisa. I’ve always wanted to see it in person.”

“So we’re just going to meander around without any plan?” Brock asks.

“Of course not,” Brianna says. “The plan is to start with the Mona Lisa. I want to see all the famous works. You know, the ones everybody knows about.”

Works for me. I do appreciate art, but I’m not going to get as much out of the Louvre as my cousin Gina would. She’s an actual artist. Besides, strolling around a museum isn’t going to do much for that grasshopper munching on my spine. I need a good workout. Or another romp with Maddie.

“She’s on the second floor, right?” Maddie says.

“Who’s on the second floor?” I ask.

“The Mona Lisa.” She rolls her eyes. “That is what we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

I simply nod.

Brock nods as well. “Yep, let’s head upstairs.”

As we make our way through the magnificent hallways, my mind begins to wander, and I recall the terrifying moments on that plane. The sudden turbulence, the oxygen masks dropping down, and the passengers’ panicked reactions. It’s difficult not to relate it to the chaos of this bustling museum.

We finally reach the room that houses the Mona Lisa, and the crowd is enormous.

“There she is!” Brianna squeals.

Maddie smiles. “Let’s get a closer look.”

Brock and the women head closer, and Brock looks over his shoulder. “Dave, you coming?”

I nod and follow them as they approach the iconic painting. I gaze at the Mona Lisa, trying to appreciate its beauty and how the standards of beauty have changed over time.

But her serene smile seems to be hiding something. Some underlying turmoil.

Like I did on the plane, staying calm for Maddie’s sake.

Yeah, she’s beautiful, but she’s not helping me.

I’m staring at her smile when Maddie’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Dave, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

We move on from the Mona Lisa, and Maddie and Bree continue to discuss the art, but their voices don’t permeate my mind. The artwork around me begins to blend together as I struggle to shake off the trauma haunting me.

“Let’s check out the Egyptian artifacts,” Brock says. “Maybe we’ll see some mummies or something.”

Brianna swats his shoulder. “There’s more to the exhibit than mummies.”

We head toward the Egyptian exhibit, and I try to stay engaged in the conversation, but my mind keeps drifting back to the airplane incident. The museum’s beauty and the artistry on display do provide some solace, but the memories of that traumatic experience persist. Maddie’s here, though, and I want to grab her hand, but I’m not sure if it would be appropriate.

The Egyptian collection is fascinating. A large stone sphinx stands guard at its entrance. The Great Sphinx of Tanis, according to the sign in front of it.

I remember learning about the legend of the sphinx in my world history class in high school. They stood guard in front of important buildings in Ancient Egypt, such as temples. I remember reading about the myth of Oedipus, who had to answer a riddle from the sphinx when he first entered the city of Thebes. If he got the answer wrong, the sphinx would kill and devour him. Luckily, he got it right.

I’m in no danger, of course, of being eaten by this sphinx, but it does seem to present a riddle that I need to untangle. What was I put on this planet to do? Certainly more than just fuck every good-looking woman that spares me a passing glance. Maybe even more than working with my father on the financial side of our business.

After Egypt, we head to some of the most famous exhibits in the Louvre, including the Venus de Milo and the Winged Victory.

The Venus de Milo is captured in marble, and her arms are famously missing. As I gaze at her beautifully sculpted face, I find myself oddly empathetic. The Venus de Milo, without her arms, exudes an air of quiet strength, acceptance, and resilience. She stands here, imperfect yet still captivating, just as I must find a way to stand tall despite the imperfections and trauma that have marked my life.

My life that has been pretty close to perfect up to recent events.

I must learn to embrace my own vulnerabilities and accept that life can be both beautiful and fragile, just like this sculpture. And though my trauma may have left me feeling broken, the statue’s silent strength serves as a reminder that I too can find my own inner strength and move forward from the shadows of my recent ordeal. Art, as it should, offers a path toward healing and renewal.

Nice idea, anyway.

I take a deep breath, grateful for this moment of introspection but not convinced anything will change inside me.

Until we get to the Winged Victory of Samothrace.

Though headless, the sculpture’s presence is commanding. She’s a symbol of triumph, her wings outstretched, as if embracing wind and soaring above adversity. After the brush with death, I’ve felt wounded, battling my own fears and anxieties.

I’m lost in my own thoughts as the other three chat about the art. Still I stare at the statue. Her graceful form seems to defy gravity, just as I strive to defy the weight of my own trauma.

Maybe art does have healing power. I do feel a little better.

“You feeling okay?” Brock asks me as we leave the museum.

I look over at Maddie. She, all at once, contains the grace and beauty of the Venus de Milo, the stoic and striking stature of the Winged Victory, and a touch of the mystery like the Mona Lisa.

She’s a work of art that rivals any other piece in this museum.

And just like the art in this museum has offered me some comfort, so does she.

“Yeah,” I say. “I am.”