Hallo und auf Wiedersehen.
In my previous posts, I have frequently brought up the subject of this blog and the summer.
Paris and Heartbreak Princess will be both drawing to an end. I have spent over two months writing chapters for Paris, and a little under five months writing for Heartbreak Princess. Though I am greatly saddened by this, this will be the last chapter of Paris.
I will also be taking an extended break from this blog from the summer in order to focus on other projects and relaxing. This summer will also be the time to learn other skills that I have greatly wished to learn but never had the ambition/willpower to do so.
Thank you for the two likes on Heartbreak Princess Chapter 63, three likes on But Not Enough, seven likes on Paris Chapter 29, seven likes on I’m Looking At You, five likes on Paris Chapter 28, eleven likes on You’re Beautiful, and my ninety-one followers.
Today’s blogger is @writeforthemasses. His website link is https://thepoliticsofwriting.com/
A writer working out of the Memphis area. I lived the majority of my life in Oregon before moving to Tennessee to work more on my writing. My views may be a little unorthodox, but unless they are bigoted, I don’t discriminate against other’s opinions. I cover topics ranging from literature, psychology, philosophy, and politics.
If interested, you can contact me at: firstname.lastname@example.org
With love forever,
I thanked Erin for her time, nodded at Sean, then headed out of the studio.
My head was so jumbled up from thoughts crowding around, screaming for attention. I had to get it straightened out.
Even though it had been years since I last spoke to her, I took out my phone and called Marybeth.
“Hello? Who’s calling?” Marybeth sounded exactly the same as when I last spoke to her, which was longer than I realized.
“Marybeth. It’s Juliette. Juliette Callisto. We were friends from fifth grade all the way to college when we were roommates.”
“Oh, hey, Juliette,” Marybeth’s voice is polite, but lacking emotion. Like a robot. “Why are you calling?”
“Are you busy right now?”
“We really need to talk.”
Silence. Then, “What?”
“Orlando Oliver. The person I fell in love with during the trip to Paris that you shipped me on three years ago.”
“No, I know who you mean, but what about him?”
“He’s here. In Paris. Right now. We talked and even went on a few dates.”
“I don’t know if I’m trying to live in the past or prepare myself for the future.”
“Juliette,” Marybeth says it gently. “Maybe it’s time that you started living in the present and just went for it.”
We make small talk after that. I told Marybeth about Dad’s death, Marybeth told me about her cousin’s huge wedding and her new boyfriend.
But I never could really focus on the conversation, because I kept hearing Marybeth’s words.
Maybe it’s time that you started living in the present and just went for it.
It was time to stop thinking about Sean, stop thinking about the past, stop thinking about all the distractions that surrounded me. It was time to stop thinking about Anthony and Isla, stop thinking about the movie 24/7, and just go for it.
In the minutes after Marybeth and I politely ended our conversation, I scrolled through my CNN news app and started reading each story.
In the Entertainment section, there was an article called Orlando’s past (and present!) relationships.
Curious, I tapped on it, and it led me to the article with pictures.
The pictures began when he was fifteen, with shorter hair but the same piercing emerald green eyes.
Orlando Anthony James (better known as Orlando Oliver at the time) first fell in love with Abigail Mason at the tender age of fifteen.
The picture was of a beautiful petite girl with creamy mocha skin, warm chocolate eyes, and black hair cut in a pixie style in the arms of Orlando, who looked almost exactly the same as he did now.
Picture after picture of Orlando’s girlfriends, describing their relationship and how long they dated. There was even the picture of Esmeralda (whose real name was Esmeralda Keane) until I found the picture of me.
After an extended period of remaining single, Orlando moved on to Juliette Lily Love (better known as Juliette Callisto at the time). A source informs us that Orlando and Juliette met in Paris and dated for a month, before splitting for unknown circumstances.
Instead of any picture of Orlando and me in some embrace, it’s a picture of us in the snow. We’re laughing, flecks of snow in our hair. It’s a selfie, and I have a faint memory of taking that picture.
More girlfriends, including that model, Amelia, the one that had striking red hair. The most recent girlfriend that he had was Amelia, but they had split between January for unknown circumstances.
But I know why Orlando and I split up.
This time, we’re filming on a cliff.
Mainly because it’s the twenty minutes that Isla spends thinking about her relationship with Anthony and life in general. She watches life go on around her and realizes that life goes on, no matter what. Someday, that relationship wouldn’t matter, and possibly, Isla and Anthony would see each other in a coffee shop someday, after they’re married and have kids and stuff, they would nod at each other but go back to their own lives.
And when one of them is on their deathbed, it wouldn’t matter anymore. It would just be a faint memory slipping away.
With that last thought (actually me doing a voiceover of what Isla’s thinking in her head), Isla takes off the necklace that Anthony gave her and dropped it into the water, walking away.
It’s actually the end shot of the movie (tragedy, I know, Anthony and Isla don’t get back together), but we still have a lot of filming to do. After all, a movie can’t be filmed in two weeks. Rome wasn’t built in one day.
While the crew is rushing around trying to get ready for a few other takes, adjusting lighting and makeup, I sit there on the cliff, staring at the sky, then back down at the water.
Life would go on no matter what. It wouldn’t matter what pair of shoes I wore one day, or how bad my hair was on a bad hair day. It wouldn’t matter what kind of jeans I wore, or what car I drove. It wouldn’t matter what movies I starred in or who I kissed or who I had been friends with.
Orlando is already at the coffee shop when I arrive.
He’s just sitting at the table, fiddling with something, when I sit down.
“Orlando, I’m going to basically say whatever’s on my mind right now. Since I first saw you at the photoshoot, I can’t stop thinking about what happened in Paris three years ago. But now I realize that it doesn’t matter anymore. Because life goes on, no matter what. I’ve been living in the past for a really long time, so I thought it was time to start living in the present.”
“You can’t fly unless you let yourself fall,” Orlando said when I paused.
“Exactly. So, I was thinking that we could start from square one.”
“Wait,” Orlando interrupted. He lifted something in his hands, which he cupped carefully, before revealing what it was.
A lock. A good old fashioned lock.
“Use your key.”
I glanced down and saw the key necklace that Orlando had given to me three years ago. I took it off, inserted the key, and turned.
The lock clicked open, and a small slip of paper popped out, from where Orlando must have put it all those years ago.
I love you.
Finally, I leaned over and kissed him, a proper kiss, just like the movie kind, getting lost in the moment.
When the kiss ends, Orlando looks me right in the eyes, and says, “Square one?”
I nod. “Square one.”
“Hi, I’m Orlando Lefebvre.” He sticks out his hand for me to shake.
I grasp it and shake firmly. “Hi, I’m Juliette Callisto.”
Sometimes it doesn’t matter where you start. Just that you do start.