We'll Always Have Paris by Jennifer Coburn

Author:Jennifer Coburn
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2014-02-19T22:00:00+00:00

Katie and I left for Spain two days after her graduation from middle school, where she gave a commencement speech that offered classmates advice for starting high school given to her by the adults in her life. “Every time I tell grown-ups I’m going to start high school, they say they wish they could go back and do so many things over,” she explained weeks earlier as she sat at her keyboard typing. “So I’m making a top ten tips list.” Katie looked at me, her facial features now thin and delicate. “What would you tell kids my age?”

The question alone exhausted me. “I guess I would tell you to enjoy life, to embrace every moment and focus on the journey instead of the destination.”

“Yeah, I’m looking for something a little pithier,” Katie said.

“Fine, tell them that passion is fleeting, but the Internet is forever.”

“That’s good,” she said, tapping the keys.

I thought about whether or not I was really embracing the moments in my own life. Some of them were easy, like dinner parties with William’s great cooking and a houseful of laughter. I organized theater nights for our friends. And Katie was now a good enough piano player to do sing-along nights. Other moments were less embraceable. When the toilet backed up; buying a new phone plan; the time our roof sprang multiple leaks in a rainstorm and our home became an obstacle course of water-filled buckets. Even with the drudgery, though, life was relatively smooth, which in some ways made me more afraid of dying. This is too good, I would think, lying awake in bed. It can’t last. The other shoe will soon drop and it’ll be a fatal blow to my head.

William warned me that one day we really are going to get old and die. “Why waste energy worrying about the inevitable?” he asked.

I looked at him incredulously. “You are not Jewish, are you?”

***

I was amazed at how fast Katie and I could run down the crowded streets of Madrid. Being chased by bulls didn’t hurt. The ground beneath us rumbled as thousands of human feet—and hundreds of hooves—pounded through the winding streets of the Spanish capital. From the corner of my eye, I saw an angry bull gore a man then leave him bloody for others to trample. I turned back, but Katie grabbed my hand. “Keep moving forward or they’ll kill you,” she shouted. We flew through the narrow, dusty streets until something reached out from a doorway and pulled us in. My back slammed into the stone wall, which was surprisingly cushioned.

Katie was already in the doorway with a cigarette dangling from her mouth. My father reached to light it for her.

“I knew you weren’t really dead!” I said, gasping at the sight of him.

“You say that every time,” he replied, laughing. It was so good to hear his voice again. He sported a vintage Nathan’s T-shirt, well-worn jeans, and leather clogs; his hair was thick with long sideburns.

I grabbed his hand before it lit Katie’s cigarette.

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