Now Justin is dancing. Like, actually dancing. He’s jumping up and down and grabbing Emma around the waist, and she’s smiling like this is the best birthday she’s ever had.
When I look over at Anna, she’s still watching her two best friends, and I wonder if she’s thinking about what we did that day. I wonder if she looks at them the same way I do, knowing that they should be together and feeling responsible for the fact that they aren’t. But suddenly, Emma and Justin disappear from my thoughts, and now I’m looking at her and all I can think about is the backpack stuffed behind the gardening shed at the bottom of the hill. Without meaning to, I let a small laugh slip out under my breath.
That gets her attention. “What?” she asks. There’s this lilt in her voice, like she wants to know but at the same time she’s a little bit afraid to.
“You had something to tell me,” I say, fighting a grin.
She presses her lips together and takes a sharp inhale. “I did, yeah, I—” She starts to finish her sentence but I cut her off.
I push her hair back from her face and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Go say good-bye to Emma and meet me in the garden in ten minutes…where we were earlier. Don’t let anyone see you.”
Anna looks puzzled at first, but as she watches me, her mouth turns up at the corners and she nods without asking any questions. I turn and walk away from her, and for the third time tonight I follow the path until I reach the bottom of the garden. I wrestle my backpack out from behind the shed.
I pace the ground. I sit on the bench and stand up again. I examine the Buddha statue. Finally I see Anna’s face peek out from behind the trees. The latch on the wrought-iron gate clicks and I hear it squeak open and closed.
Her feet crunch on the gravel as she winds down the path, and she stops when she finds me in the shadows, leaning up against the shed.
“Why are we down here?” she asks, and without saying a word, I step forward, wrap my fingers around the back of her neck, and kiss her. I can feel her smiling as she lets go of all her questions, parts her lips, and kisses me back. She tastes like cake.
Her hands settle on my hips and as she kisses me harder; her fingers creep under my shirt and up my back. I’m starting to wonder if we’ll ever be able to get out of here, when she whispers, “Why are you wearing your backpack?”
I kiss her again. “Give me your hands.”
She’s breathing hard. “Why?” she asks, but doesn’t hesitate for even a second. I can already feel her fingers sliding back down to my waist, feeling for my arms, following the bend in my elbow until they find their home in my hands.
Hers are shaking with anticipation or nerves or a combination of the two, and I take them, the whole time never letting her lips leave mine. All I can think about right now is that I’m so grateful for this crazy gift I possess; that I can take her away with me, just for a little while, disappearing completely into a faraway place where there’s no people or voices in the background, and no one looks even vaguely familiar to either one of us.
Her eyes are already closed. I pull her hands behind my back, our fingers still locked, still connecting us, and I keep her body pressed into mine as I picture our destination.
I close my eyes.
And we disappear.
15
I open my eyes in a secluded area I found a few years ago when Brooke and I came here for a U2 concert in ’97. Anna’s hands are still locked behind my back and she’s smiling, lids tightly shut, waiting for me to speak.
“We’re here,” I say. “Open your eyes.” As soon as I say the words, my heart starts pumping hard.
I take a look around, but there’s not much to see yet. Until we get out from behind this shrub, we could be anywhere. I follow Anna’s gaze as she takes in the chain-link fences and the back windows along a line of similar- looking houses. She runs her toe across the gravel underneath our feet, like she’s trying hard to piece it all together. There’s hardly any light back here, but I can still make out the baffled expression she’s wearing as she turns slowly in place. And then she looks up, beyond the shrubs, and sees the tower, its iron beams lit up with so many lights it looks like it’s made of gold. She covers her mouth with her hand and laughs.
“No way…”
“I told you. You needed to see Paris next.”
She takes a few steps backward, stops when she hits my chest, and without turning around, feels for my hands and wraps them around her waist. She twists her neck so she can see me, and even though we’re nowhere near Emma’s backyard anymore, we pick up right where we left off two minutes ago.
We hop over the short fence that leads to the park. Once we’re out in the open we can see the entire Eiffel Tower, base to top, gleaming in front of us. It’s only nine o’clock and, surprisingly, there aren’t many people back here. Anna and I walk toward the base with our fingers knit together. She keeps looking over at me, smiling and shaking her head.
She suddenly drops my hand. “Race you,” she says, and she takes off. Her speed keeps her well in front of me at first, but she has to keep adjusting her skirt, and that slows her down. I pass her just before we turn the corner that leads under the structure, and that’s where we find everyone. The crowd is thick and the lines are long.
“Come on,” I say as I start walking toward the end of the shortest one, but Anna grabs me by the arm. She tips her head back and looks straight up. Then she looks back at me. “We’re waiting in line?”
“Yep.”
“Oh.” She looks up to the top of the tower again, then back at me. “Why?”
I rest my hands on her shoulders and give her a quick kiss. “No cheating.” In the time it’s taken us to have this discussion, at least ten people have stepped into the line. I jump in at the end.
“Why is, you know…
“Because it is. It’s like rock climbing. You can’t just magically find yourself on top of a mountain, staring out at an insane view. You’ve got to earn it.
“Oh.”
“Which, you know, some might find shocking.”
“Yeah, I suppose some might.” She nods and tries to hold a serious expression, but I can see that smile still trying to peek through. “So we’re taking the elevator?” It’s a question, but she says it more like a statement.
“Nope. That’s cheating too.” She starts to say something, but I hold my finger up, and say, “Wait a sec.”
I haven’t exchanged my American dollars for French francs yet, so I’ve been subtly scanning the people in line for the perfect target and I just found him: older guy, jeans and tennis shoes, fanny pack with an American flag pinned to the belt.
When the line snakes around, I hold up three twenty-dollar bills and ask him if he’ll buy us two tickets to the second deck via the stairs in exchange for them. He checks the prices on the board, calculates the profit, and happily takes the money from my hand.
“The stairs?” Anna asks.
I just grin.
“How many stairs?”
“I don’t know. A lot. We can count them if you want to.” She smacks me with the back of her hand. “Trust me, you’ll love this. We can stop and look at the view on the way up.” Fanny-pack Guy hands me our two tickets
