Drew

Drew is here. He had borrowed someone's phone to call me when he got off of the train but I was in my French class so I didn't answer. He left a message to the effect of "I have no idea where I am... come and find me." After class I called the number back but I didn't understand the lady that answered (Drew told me later she was from Spain, apparently drew speaks Spanish). In a city like Paris where would you even begin to look for someone? I wandered around Gare du Nord and made my way down to Gare de l'Est but eventually I realized that I was never going to just find him and I just went home.

I got to my apartment around eleven o'clock and found this email from him:

I found an internet café. Right now it is a quarter to ten. If you receive this email meet me in one hour in front of the Notre Dame.

-Drew

By the time I made it to the Notre Dame it was 11:30. I wandered around for another twenty minutes wondering if he had already left. But where would he go? Finally I found him standing on the Petit Pont wearing a t-shirt and holding two large duffel bags. It was now almost midnight and it was cold. Spring has been here officially for a few weeks, but minus some splendid sunny days, it has been a cold spring. Especially at night.


Despite being ill prepared for the weather Drew was in relatively good spirits.

Drew: What took you so long?

Me: Good to see you too.

Drew: Man I am freezing out here. But first off I need something to eat.

Me: I didn't get your email until about an hour ago.

Drew: You live an hour from here?

Me: No, I've been here for like 40 minutes looking for you.

Drew: When I wrote that email I was all the way over by the Eiffel Tower, it only took me fifteen minutes to get here. I'm starting to think I know this city better than you do. However I don't know what I can eat in this city that is cheep and good. I haven't found any Mexican restaurants. What's that about?

I took him across the bridge to the Latin quarter and introduced him to the sandwich grec. Five euros later he was full of cheap good food and we began the journey back to my apartment. Luckily, when we arrived Martin and Martine were hiding away in their bedroom having another mild argument as is their custom on days of the week ending in -day. Drew will be here for 3 days and if possible I'm going to avoid telling them I have a guest.

And now Drew is on my bed sleeping like a baby. A large, bald baby. We'll be sharing a twin matress for the next couple of days, which frankly doesn't bother either of us. Necessity is the mother of compliance.

My first thoughts when I saw Drew on the bridge earlier were these two questions:

     1. How long has he been standing out in the cold?
     2. When was the last time that he talked to you?

...I never bothered to find out either.
It's strange having him here. It's like I was expecting it to be weird to see someone from home, but it it isn't. It's just normal, like it has always been. And that's what is so weird.

Makes me wonder what it would be like to see you again. Would it be normal? What is normal for us? Would I crumble under the weight of rejection, coming face to face with someone that didn't want me? Would I pretend like we had always just been good friends in some misguided attempt to salvage some sort of non-existent "pride".
Or would it just be nice to see your smile again...

Maybe one day we'll find out.


Sincerely,

Willim



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