Jennifer had drawn the same entrance four times.
Lucas knew because the pages were spread across the kitchen table when he came downstairs.
On the first, the door stood near the corner.
On the second, it moved toward the middle.
The third had been crossed out so firmly that the pencil had torn the paper.
The fourth looked, to Lucas, almost exactly like the first.
He put down his coffee.
“You moved it back.”
Jennifer looked up.
“Mostly.”
“Productive morning.”
“I’ve also decided your ruler is inaccurate.”
“My ruler?”
“It starts after the edge.”
“Isn’t that normal?”
“It’s annoying.”
He sat across from her.
The photograph Emily had sent was open on her phone. Beside it lay the sketch of the library Jennifer had designed in college.
She had been working on it for three mornings.
Not continuously.
Sometimes she drew for twenty minutes and then left the pencil untouched for the rest of the day. Yesterday, Lucas had found the papers turned facedown beneath a magazine.
Today, she had added windows.
“What are these?”
“Courtyard.”
“Those little squares?”
“Trees.”
“Of course.”
“They’re in plan.”
“I wasn’t criticizing the trees.”
“You sounded skeptical.”
“They’re very convincing squares.”
Jennifer smiled and reached for her coffee.
A book lay beside her elbow.
Lucas recognized it vaguely. Large. Gray cover. Photographs of buildings.
He had bought it years ago because the house had empty shelves and he thought books might help.
“You’ve been reading that?”
“Looking.”
“Anything good?”
She turned it toward him.
A photograph showed a long room with a high ceiling, slender columns and rows of tables beneath reading lamps.
“A library in Paris,” she said.
Lucas studied the page.
“You like libraries.”
“I like places people can stay.”
She said it without emphasis.
He looked at her, then back at the photograph.
“Have you been?”
“No.”
“Would you want to?”
Jennifer traced the edge of the page.
“I was supposed to.”
The trip had been planned for the summer after her third year.
Six students.
Two weeks.
Cheap rooms and arguments about which buildings deserved an entire afternoon.
Jennifer remembered the arguments more clearly than the itinerary.
“One guy wanted to spend three days looking at housing projects.”
“Sounds festive.”
“He had strong opinions about concrete.”
“Dangerous quality in a traveling companion.”
Jennifer smiled.
“We were going to do Paris first. Then maybe somewhere else if we had money left.”
“What happened?”
She looked at him.
Lucas remembered.
“Right.”
“I lost the deposit.”
“How much?”
“I don’t remember.”
But she answered too quickly.
He suspected she remembered exactly.
Jennifer closed the book.
Lucas looked at its cover.
Then he said, “We could go.”
She lifted her eyes.
“To Paris.”
“I understood the destination.”
“Okay.”
She watched him, waiting for the rest.
There wasn’t any.
“You mean that.”
“Sure.”
“Sure?”
“If you want to.”
Jennifer leaned back.
Lucas began to explain flights. His work. How he could manage a few days away.
He had reached the subject of hotels when he noticed her expression.
“What?”
“You’ve already started.”
“Started what?”
“Making it happen.”
He stopped.
The pages lay between them.
Jennifer gathered them into a stack, aligning the corners with more care than necessary.
“I mentioned something I wanted to do once.”
“I know.”
“And you heard something you could buy.”
Lucas looked down.
He could have defended himself.
The defense was ready.
Instead, he asked, “Would you rather I hadn’t offered?”
Jennifer held the papers against the table.
“No.”
He waited.
“That’s what makes it difficult.”
She returned to the subject that evening.
Lucas was folding towels badly.
Jennifer stood in the laundry room doorway and watched him attempt to make two corners meet.
“Give me that.”
“I can fold a towel.”
“Apparently under certain conditions.”
She took it and folded it twice.
“There.”
“Show-off.”
Jennifer put it on the pile.
“If we went,” she said, “what would you think it was?”
Lucas looked at her.
“The trip?”
“Yes.”
“A trip.”
She gave him a tired look.
He set down the next towel.
“What are you asking?”
“Would you think we were going as a couple?”
The washing machine clicked behind them.
Lucas had imagined Paris for approximately half a day.
He had imagined walking beside her.
Dinner.
Her laughing at something in a place where neither of them had a history.
He had not examined those images closely enough.
“I hadn’t decided what to call it.”
Jennifer nodded once.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything.”
“People can expect things without saying them.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the hallway.
Lucas waited.
“Separate rooms,” she said.
“Okay.”
“Not one room with two beds.”
“Separate rooms.”
“And if I spend a whole afternoon doing nothing?”
“Then you spend an afternoon doing nothing.”
“If I want to go home?”
“We figure out how to go home.”
Jennifer looked at him again.
“You make everything sound easy.”
“No. I make the parts I can pay for sound easy.”
That held her attention.
He continued.
“I don’t know whether you’d enjoy it. I don’t know whether I would. I haven’t traveled much either.”
“You haven’t?”
“A little. Mostly trips where somebody else knew what was happening.”
“So this would be different.”
“Potentially disastrous.”
She smiled faintly.
Then she picked up another towel.
“I’m not saying yes.”
“I know.”
She folded it.
Lucas watched her smooth the edge.
“And you don’t have to decide because I offered,” he said.
Jennifer put the towel down.
“Good.”
Three days later, she asked to see what he had been looking at.
Lucas turned his laptop toward her.
He had made a list.
Jennifer read the first few lines.
Then she looked at him.
“What?”
“This is a lot.”
“It’s options.”
“There are times beside them.”
“Suggested times.”
“You’ve scheduled lunch.”
“People generally eat it.”
“At twelve fifteen?”
“I was leaving room for flexibility.”
Jennifer scrolled.
The Eiffel Tower.
A museum.
A river cruise.
Another museum.
Something described by the website as unmissable.
“You’ve put three things on the first afternoon.”
“We wouldn’t have to do them all.”
“Then why are they there?”
Lucas considered his answer.
Jennifer took the laptop.
“Can I?”
“Please.”
She deleted the afternoon.
Then the following morning.
“Ruthless.”
“We’re going to be tired.”
“Fair.”
She opened a new page.
For the next hour, Lucas watched her search.
Not quickly.
She read, went back, changed a word and tried again. Some of the places she remembered had different visitor arrangements than she expected. Others required more planning than she wanted.
She wrote two addresses on a sheet of paper.
Then crossed one out.
“What’s wrong with that one?”
“Too much travel for a short trip.”
He leaned closer.
She showed him a building.
Then a courtyard.
Then a street she remembered from photographs.
Lucas asked what made one façade different from another.
Jennifer explained.
He asked another question.
She turned the laptop toward him and pointed.
“No. Look at the windows.”
“I am.”
“You’re looking at the roof.”
“It’s above the windows.”
“Your powers of observation are extraordinary.”
He smiled.
She continued.
At some point, Lucas realized he had stopped thinking about whether the trip might help her.
He wanted to see what she was looking at.
Emily found the passport.
It had been in a box beneath the bed in her old apartment and then in a cupboard after she moved.
Jennifer learned this during their fourth phone call.
The calls had become shorter.
That helped.
Sometimes they spoke for ten minutes.
Once, for three.
Emily no longer tried to fit every missing month into the space before Jennifer went quiet.
When Jennifer mentioned Paris, her sister said nothing.
“Emily?”
“I’m here.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t a nothing silence.”
Emily sighed.
“You haven’t seen me yet.”
Jennifer looked toward the kitchen doorway.
Lucas was upstairs.
“I know.”
“But you can go to another country.”
The words landed where Jennifer had expected them to.
That did not make them hurt less.
“It’s different.”
“I can see that.”
“No. I mean—”
Jennifer pressed her hand over her eyes.
She had no explanation that sounded kind.
Emily waited.
“Paris doesn’t know me,” Jennifer said.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Emily said, more quietly, “I’m not going to make you explain everything when I see you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Jennifer lowered her hand.
“I’m trying to.”
Emily breathed out.
“Okay.”
Jennifer looked at the drawing on the table.
“Could you send the passport?”
“I’ll check the date.”
“Thank you.”
Another pause.
Then Emily said, “You have to give me an address.”
Jennifer looked toward the stairs.
This time, when she asked Lucas whether she could use his address, he understood the question.
“Yes.”
She wrote it down herself.
The passport arrived with a pair of gloves.
Dark green.
Jennifer took them out of the padded envelope and held them in her lap.
There was a note.
You always think your pockets are enough.
Lucas watched her read it.
“What?”
She handed him the note.
“Is she wrong?”
“Frequently.”
“About this?”
Jennifer put on one glove.
“No.”
The passport photograph was old enough to make her stare.
She had longer hair then.
A different expression.
Lucas looked only when she turned it toward him.
“Recognize her?”
“Yes.”
Jennifer studied the picture.
“I remember being annoyed because they made me take my earrings off.”
She touched her ear.
It was such a small memory that neither knew what to do with it.
She closed the passport and placed it beside the drawings.
They chose five nights.
Long enough to arrive.
Short enough, Jennifer said, that she could imagine the other end.
Before Lucas booked anything, they brought the idea to her follow-up appointment.
Jennifer mentioned it herself.
Dr. Bennett asked how she had been sleeping, how the restlessness had changed and what support would be available while she was away.
Lucas began answering once.
Jennifer continued over him.
He stopped.
They discussed her current treatment plan, travel arrangements and whom to contact if she became unwell. The doctor wanted another check-in before departure.
There was no promise that a different city would make her feel different.
Jennifer seemed relieved by that.
Outside, she said, “He didn’t look impressed.”
“Did you want him to?”
“No.”
They walked toward the car.
Then she said, “Maybe a little.”
Lucas smiled.
The difficult day came after the tickets were booked.
Jennifer had slept poorly.
By eleven, she had not come downstairs.
By one, Lucas heard her moving around her room.
At two, she appeared in the office doorway.
“We should cancel.”
He turned from the screen.
“Okay.”
Her face changed.
“Just like that?”
“I mean we can. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
He waited.
Jennifer folded her arms.
“I couldn’t even come downstairs this morning.”
“You’re downstairs now.”
She looked away.
Lucas heard himself.
As though he had found a technical error in her fear.
“Sorry.”
She sat in the chair beside his desk.
For a while, she watched numbers change on one of the monitors.
“What if I’m like this there?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if I can’t leave the room?”
“Then the room has to be somewhere you can stay.”
“What if you hate me by the third day?”
He turned fully toward her.
Jennifer kept her eyes on the screen.
“I get unpleasant.”
“So do I.”
“You get sarcastic.”
“People find that unpleasant.”
“You know what I mean.”
He did.
The office seemed small around them.
Lucas wanted to promise that nothing she did could make him angry.
He had already been angry with her.
She knew it.
“We might have a bad day,” he said. “We’ve had them here.”
Jennifer rubbed her thumb against her finger.
“You paid already.”
“That part is manageable.”
“For you.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
He let the answer stand.
After a while, he asked, “Would it help to decide tomorrow?”
Jennifer sat back.
“Maybe.”
“Then tomorrow.”
He returned to the screen without making her leave.
She stayed for another twenty minutes.
The following morning, she put the green gloves in her suitcase.
At the airport, Lucas discovered that being good with money did not make him good at airports.
He joined the wrong line.
Twice.
Jennifer followed him through the first mistake without comment.
At the second, she stopped.
“The sign says transfers.”
“We are transferring ourselves.”
“Lucas.”
He looked up.
“Right.”
She took the handle of her suitcase and turned.
“This way.”
He followed.
Security was worse.
The trays.
The voices.
People reaching around one another.
Jennifer had to take off her jacket just after putting it on. She held her passport so tightly that one corner bent.
Lucas stayed close without touching her.
When they reached the other side, she could not find her phone.
He began checking the trays.
“It was here,” she said.
“We’ll find it.”
“It was right here.”
Her voice rose.
A man behind them reached for his bag.
Jennifer moved away sharply.
Lucas stopped searching.
“Let’s take the things we have to that bench.”
“My phone—”
“We can look there.”
They carried everything over.
The phone was inside her jacket pocket.
Jennifer stared at it.
Lucas sat beside her.
For a minute, neither spoke.
Then she said, “Excellent start.”
“I’m trying to set expectations low.”
She gave him a look.
He waited.
Eventually, her shoulders lowered.
At the gate, she put on the gloves though they were indoors.
He did not mention it.
She did not sleep much on the flight.
Neither did Lucas.
The engine noise became something he could feel in his teeth.
Jennifer watched the map on the seatback screen.
At one point, she asked how long they had left.
He looked.
“Four hours.”
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, he was still awake.
“You can sleep.”
“So can you.”
“Clearly.”
He smiled.
Later, she fell asleep for perhaps forty minutes.
Her hand rested palm upward on the armrest between them.
Lucas looked at it.
Then he turned back to the dark window.
Paris was gray when they arrived.
Not beautifully gray.
Simply gray.
The sky looked low. The road from the airport was busy. Jennifer sat quietly beside Lucas, her suitcase against her knees, while he checked the hotel address for the sixth time.
She looked out at apartment buildings and warehouses.
Eventually, she said, “You look worried.”
“I’m concentrating.”
“On what?”
“Arriving successfully.”
“We’ve arrived.”
“There are stages.”
She leaned her head against the window.
Lucas could not tell whether she was smiling.
At the hotel, their rooms were on different floors.
He checked the reservation.
Then checked it again.
He had requested rooms near each other.
Requested, it turned out, was a word with limited power.
The receptionist offered to see what could be arranged.
Jennifer stood beside the suitcases, silent.
Lucas explained again.
Too quickly.
The receptionist listened patiently.
Jennifer touched his sleeve.
“It’s okay.”
He turned.
“Are you sure?”
“One floor.”
“We can ask—”
“She’s already looking.”
Lucas stopped.
A few minutes later, there was nothing available to change that day.
Jennifer took her key.
“I’ll call you.”
“Okay.”
“You have your phone?”
He held it up.
She nodded.
They went upstairs.
At her door, Lucas waited while she checked the room.
A bed.
A narrow desk.
A bathroom.
A window overlooking the back of another building.
Jennifer set down her bag.
“It’s fine.”
He stood in the doorway.
“Want to get something to eat later?”
“Maybe.”
“Text me.”
She nodded.
He left.
A moment later, he heard the lock.
The sound was familiar enough to make his chest ache.
He woke from an accidental nap not knowing where he was.
The curtains were partly closed.
His mouth tasted like airplane coffee.
For several seconds, he stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.
Then he checked his phone.
No messages.
He typed:
How are you doing?
Deleted it.
Typed:
Hungry?
Jennifer replied six minutes later.
A little.
They met downstairs.
She looked exhausted.
Lucas suspected he did too.
“There’s a place nearby,” he said.
“Nearby nearby?”
“Eight minutes.”
“According to you or the phone?”
“The phone.”
“Good.”
He led them the wrong way.
They realized it when the estimated walk became twelve minutes.
Jennifer stopped beside a closed shop.
Lucas looked at the map.
Then turned the phone.
Jennifer watched.
“Does rotating it help?”
“Emotionally.”
She pulled her coat closer.
He looked up.
“We can go back.”
“I know.”
“Or find somewhere here.”
“I know.”
He lowered the phone.
“What would you like?”
Jennifer looked along the street.
People moved around them carrying bags, talking, going home.
She had been quiet since leaving the hotel.
Now she pointed at a small shop across the road.
“Something from there.”
They ate in her room.
Two sandwiches.
A bag of chips.
Water in paper cups because neither had noticed the glasses beside the kettle.
Jennifer sat in the desk chair.
Lucas sat at the end of the bed, careful not to lean back as though he belonged there.
Outside, someone opened a window in the opposite building.
A pipe clicked in the wall.
Lucas looked at the sandwich in his hand.
“Well.”
Jennifer glanced up.
“Paris.”
She looked around the room.
“Exactly as advertised.”
He laughed.
She smiled, but it faded quickly.
After a while, she said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“This.”
“The sandwich?”
“You know.”
Lucas put his food down.
They had crossed an ocean.
He had imagined her noticing buildings, teasing him about streets, becoming absorbed in something beyond the house.
Now she was sitting in a hotel room, pale with fatigue, apologizing because she could not make the day into the one he had pictured.
He felt ashamed of having pictured it so clearly.
“We traveled all night,” he said. “You don’t owe me an afternoon.”
Jennifer looked at him.
“I wanted to go out.”
“I know.”
“I still might want to tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
She turned the paper cup between her hands.
“Do you think this was stupid?”
Lucas considered the room.
The expensive distance.
His own tiredness, which had made every small problem feel larger.
“I think today was difficult.”
“That’s a careful answer.”
“It’s the one I have.”
Jennifer nodded.
They finished eating.
When he left, she was taking the gloves out of her coat pockets.
Lucas slept badly.
At three, he checked the time.
At four, he checked for a message from Jennifer.
At five, he began calculating whether they could change the flight home without spending another full day in airports.
He had promised flexibility.
Now he was trying to turn it into something measurable.
By seven, he gave up.
He showered, dressed and sent a message.
I’m going downstairs for coffee.
He expected no answer.
It came while he was putting on his shoes.
Already here.
Jennifer sat at a small table near the lobby window.
Her coat hung over the chair beside her.
The green gloves rested on top of it.
There was coffee in front of her.
And the sketchbook Lucas had almost talked himself out of buying before they left.
He had offered it in the store.
She had chosen the smaller one.
Now it lay open beneath her hand.
Lucas stopped a few feet away.
“Morning.”
She looked up.
“Morning.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Some.”
He accepted that.
Jennifer had drawn the building across the street.
Not all of it.
A window.
The railing beneath it.
The shape of the stone above the frame.
Lucas sat.
“Is that from here?”
She nodded toward the glass.
He looked outside.
Then back at the page.
“It’s good.”
“It’s crooked.”
“So is the building.”
She smiled.
A member of staff came over, and Lucas ordered coffee.
When they were alone again, Jennifer turned the sketchbook to another page.
An address was written at the top.
Beneath it, she had drawn a small map.
“I thought we could start here.”
Lucas looked.
“How far?”
“Not very.”
He waited.
“There’s somewhere to sit along the way,” she added. “And we can come back whenever.”
“Okay.”
She studied his face.
“You don’t have to look so pleased.”
“I’m drinking coffee in Paris. I’m allowed.”
“Your coffee hasn’t arrived.”
“I’m anticipating.”
Jennifer shook her head and closed the sketchbook.
They left twenty minutes later.
The morning was cold enough for her gloves.
At the corner, Lucas took out his phone.
Jennifer touched his wrist.
“This way.”
He looked up.
She was already looking down the street, checking the building numbers.
Lucas put the phone in his pocket and followed her.