In the Bag Part 3

CHAPTER 22"Coco".

I don't know if it was jet lag or the=mussels we had for lunch or the stress of=meeting-or =not =meeting-Webb.=Whatever the reason, I wasn't hungry for=dinner that night. Neither was Mom. But I=needed to check my e-mail.= "Actually, =something =sweet =sounds=good," I told Mom. We were walking back=to the apartment from the Metro stop. "Can=I =pick =up =some =treats =for =us =at =the=patisserie across the street from Solange's=place?"= "Good =idea," =Mom =said. ="Get =me=something =lemony. =I've =gotta =call=Solange."= "Cool," I said. "I'll meet you in the=apartment in a few minutes."= After I saw her put her key in the front=door to Solange's building, I ducked into=the =Internet =cafe =to =see =if =Webb =had=responded. He had.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: What a tangled Webb=. . .= Not =mad, =just =disappointed. =Mr.=Hitchc.o.c.k had such high hopes for us.=(And no, I've never done it before,=either.)= "Love,"Webb"

Love? I stared at the word. Love. What=a sweet boy. Okay, I had to make this=work.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: =Re: =Re: =What =a =tangled=Webb . . .= I know. I'm disappointed, too!=Love,=Coco= =.

I studied my message before sending it.=Coming from me, "Love" seemed forced. I=deleted the word. But then that looked=cold. =So =I =deleted =my =name, =too, =and=pressed SEND.= His response arrived seconds later.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: Re: Re: What a tangled=Webb . . .= Can I suggest an alternative? (Tell= me now if I'm wasting my time.)= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: What a=tangled Webb . . .= No! I mean, yes! Suggest away! I=really DO want to meet you.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: What a=tangled Webb . . .= Okay, here goes. What if instead of=meeting in Madrid, we met in Paris?=Could you convince your madre that=you've got some kinda bug-I don't=know, =maybe =like =spontaneous=leprosy or something-and you're too=sick to fly to Madrid tmw? If so, I=could take a morning train up to Paris=and meet you there tmw pm. Without=the weirdness of parents. I'd return=before your mom gets back-or my=dad =notices =I'm =gone. =Brilliant =or=stupid? You tell me.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:=What a tangled Webb . . .= OMG. You're brilliant! Do trains=run between Paris and Madrid?= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:=What a tangled Webb . . .= Looking at the online sked now.=Leave here tmw morn at 8:45. Arrive=in Paris at 10:41 pm. Depart Paris the=next =morn =at =7:10. =Arrive =Madrid=7:42 pm.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:=Re: What a tangled Webb . . .= OMGx2. Let's do it!!!= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:=Re: Re: What a tangled Webb . . .= Serious?= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:=Re: Re: Re: What a tangled Webb . . .= 100%. Can you check your e-mail=tomorrow morning before you leave?=Just to make sure I can weasel out of=going to Madrid? Not certain I can=pull this off, but I'm going to TRY=TRY TRY! The good thing is, I had a=really high fever once when Mom/I=were flying to L.A., and I pa.s.sed out=cold as soon as we landed at LAX. It=ended =up =being =nothing, =but =my=mother toooottallly freaked. So this=might just work!= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:=Re: Re: Re: Re: What a tangled Webb=. . .= Try, Blousey. That's all I can ask.= Mr. Hitchc.o.c.k is rooting for us.= By the time I got back to the apartment, I=was a complete wreck. Luckily Mom was=still on the phone. When she hung up, she= stared at me: "Where's dessert?"="Oh," I said. "I forgot."="Honey, what's wrong with you? You're= white as a sheet."=I flopped facedown on the futon. "My= stomach feels funny."=And I was only half lying.=

CHAPTER 23"Andrew".

I spent the rest of the day putting out fires=at the exhibition s.p.a.ce.= Someone-a =disgruntled =laborer =was=my =guess-had =apparently =flushed =wet=cement down the toilets in the women's=restroom. =I =had =to =find =an =industrial=plumber to clear the lines. Meanwhile, an=electrician was working on the shades,=which =were =cooperating =but =only=intermittently. It would all get resolved by=the =time =the =exhibition =opened =the=following evening.= My bigger concern was the show itself.=Was art getting worse, or was I getting=more jaded? Because this show, with all=its monitors and high-tech digital effects,=left me cold.= If these artists were trying to convince=me that the pursuit of love in the postdigital=age was more exciting, more mysterious,=more . . . well, everything love should be,=they'd failed. None of the exhibits pa.s.sed=the =Jimmy =Webb =test, =which =was =the=standard by which I judged all works of=art.= The =test =consisted =of =comparing =the=work in question with the song "Wichita=Lineman," where the tension between what=you understood and what you didn't was=just the right mix to pull you in deeper. Art=has to ask questions and make you care.=Nothing I saw elicited even the slightest=emotional response. But maybe that was=the point. Maybe love was impossible in=the postdigital age. Maybe pa.s.sion was=pa.s.se.= Or =maybe =I =was =just =too =old =to=understand it-or worse yet, to experience=it. When was the last time I'd been with a=woman who moved me half as much as a=Jimmy Webb song? Moira in grad school?=Blythe during my interns.h.i.+p in New York?=Frances, =later, =in =Vancouver? =They =all=eventually tired of my inability to fully=connect, and who could blame them? And=then when Laura got pregnant with Webb,=that changed everything.= Never mind the past. I had to focus on=the show.= After I finally had the electronic shades=working to my satisfaction, I returned to=the hotel to put on a clean s.h.i.+rt for dinner.=Webb was in the room, watching soccer on=TV.= "Hungry =for =paella?" =I =asked =while=b.u.t.toning my s.h.i.+rt.= "Uh-huh," he answered.= "So how'd you spend your afternoon?" I=asked, hoping to be surprised.= "Yeah, uh-huh," he said. His eyes didn't=move from the TV.= "What'd you do this afternoon?"= "Uh, nothing really. But I want to do=some stuff tomorrow. Hey, Dad, can I have=some euros?"= I gave him a stack of bills. At least he'd=put on the new clothes.= We walked from the hotel over to Plaza=de Santa Ana, a photogenic old square=filled with street musicians and tapas bars.=I chose a restaurant with a nice crowd of=locals.= "I'm going to have wine with dinner," I=said as Webb and I seated ourselves at a=small table near the back. "You can have a=gla.s.s, if you'd like. It's legal here."= "Enh, pa.s.s," he said. "I'll just have a=c.o.ke."= As we waited for our paella, I couldn't=help staring at Webb. For years I'd done=my best to make sure he was cautious,=careful, not too much of a risk taker. I=wanted to help him =learn to make smart=choices, unlike his mother.= But maybe I'd gone too far. Maybe I'd=created a young man who was a coward-=or worse yet, a dullard.= "What's the favorite thing you've seen= so far on this trip?" I asked.=He didn't answer.="Webb," I said. "What's the best thing= you've done so far in Madrid?"= He =still =didn't =respond. =He =had =a=faraway look in his eyes. Somehow he=wasn't hearing the impatience in my voice.= "Webb, dammit, I'm talking to you!"="Sorry," he said. "I was thinking about=something else."=Thinking seemed like a pretty generous=word for it, I thought as I poured a second= gla.s.s of wine from the carafe. With the=alcohol came a depressing thought: Whoam I to call anyone a bore? I'm a first-cla.s.s a.s.s.

That stupid note was like a rock in my=shoe. So what if I had slipped an admiring=note in a woman's bag? Was it such a=G.o.dd.a.m.n =crime? =Part =of =me =knew =it=wasn't. But the other, more honest part of=me wondered if it wasn't the beginning of=the end. Because it wasn't just the note-in-=the-bag debacle. There was also the fact=that =I =clearly =didn't =understand =or=appreciate the Love in the Postdigital Ageexhibit. Maybe I was too old for this stuff.= Maybe I'd lost my eye for modern art.=Would I soon start defending the work of=Thomas Kinkade and collecting keepsakes=from the Franklin Mint? Did the fact that=I'd so misjudged the appropriateness of a=romantic gesture mean I'd lost my compa.s.s=in that realm, too? Would I start pinching=women's =a.s.ses =in =elevators-or=frequenting Hooters? Was I turning into a=pig?= "Dad, =don't =you =think?" =Webb =was= asking me.="What?" I said.="Just . . . everything," he said, laughing= and making a sweeping gesture with his=hand. "I like everything here. Don't you?"="Yeah," I said.= With the possible exception of myselfc

CHAPTER 24"Daisy".

Poor Coco.= Normally =I =would've =blamed =the=mussels. But I'd had them, too, along with=two beers, and felt fine.= Before she curled up on the futon to=sleep, Coco had complained that her head=was throbbing. Shortly before midnight, I=heard =her =in =the =bathroom, =rummaging=through Solange's medicine cabinet. I got=up to check on her.= "What do you need, honey?" I asked.= "Aspirin. Tylenol. Anything," she said,=holding her head.= Her skin was chalk white, but she didn't=feel feverish. I got some nighttime formula=Excedrin from my bag and gave her two=capsules. "Do you want a wet washcloth= for your head?"= "No," she whimpered.= "Go back to sleep. You'll feel better in=the morning."= She looked at me with her big, kitten-in-=a-basket eyes. "Mom, I don't think I can go=to Madrid with you."= "Oh, Coco. We have to do this. I'm=sorry. I really am, but-"= "Mom, =I can't," she cried, her voice=breaking =into =a =kind =of =wail. ="I =will=seriously =throw =up =or =pa.s.s =out =or=something if I have to get on a plane."= My mind became a murky blur of dark=images. I couldn't let Solange down. I just=couldn't. But how could I drag Coco to= Madrid =if =she =really =felt =this =bad? =I=remembered =the =time =at =LAX =when =I=thought she'd died.= Oh, G.o.d. This is what I get for wantinT to throttle my daughter earlier in the day.This is my punishment for being a terriblemother.

"Do =you =think =you =need =to =see =a=doctor?" I asked.= "No," Coco said, gulping for air. "It's=just like . . . a bug or something. Can't you=go without me?"= "I can't leave you here alone."= "Why not?"= "Because I can't," I said, picking up the=phone and dialing Solange's number.= She =answered =on =the =first =ring. =Of=course Solange was awake at this late=hour.= "I hate to do this to you," I said after=explaining the situation. "But I knew you'd=understand."= "I =do =understand," =Solange =replied.="But, Daisy, I need you here. Would Coco=be more comfortable on a train?"= I =asked. =Coco =buried =her =head =and=started crying.= "I'm =afraid =she really =doesn't =feel=well," I said.= Solange asked to talk to Coco. I could=hear =only =my =daughter's =end =of =the=conversation.= "Hi . . . Thanks . . . I know . . . No, it's=nothing =like =that. =It's =just =. =. =. =I =feel=crummy. I'm sure it's nothing . . . Of=course I wouldn't mind. I know! College,=right? I'm going to be on my own in four=months anyway."= Of course she'd already begun thecountdown for when she was leaving me.It's okay. Perfectly normal, in fact. Don'ttake it personally.

"Uh-huh," =Coco =was =now =saying.="Yeah, okay. Thanks. I will. Bye."= She handed the phone back to me.= "The =problem =is =solved," =Solange=reported. "Coco will stay in bed and get=better. You will call Coco from Madrid=every four hours. She has music, =DVDs,=TV, and a refrigerator full of food."= "But-" I objected.= "You =will =leave =Paris =tomorrow=morning and be back the next morning,"=Solange reminded me.= "That's a whole day," I said.= "D'accord," Solange said. "And Coco=will be in bed. If she starts to feel worse, I=will have my doctor go and look at her."= "Doctors make house calls in Paris?" I=asked.= Coco =lifted her head. "Of course they=do, Mom. Didn't I tell you to see Sicko?"= Her =superior =tone =coupled =with =her=ability to keep a running tally of my flaws=convinced me that she was already on the=road to recovery.= "Daisy, you have the best daughter in the=universe," Solange was saying. "You can=trust =her =to =stay =in =my =apartment =for=twenty-some hours, for G.o.d's sake."= "D'accord," I said. "I do have a great=kid."= Coco looked at me and smiled.= So I agreed to keep my commitment to=Solange. And part of me-that secret part I=really and truly don't like very much-was=grateful to have an excuse to spend some=time on my own away from my perfect kid,=whose only fault was that, at times, she=reminded me exactly of me.=

Day 3: Tuesday"

CHAPTER 25"Webb".

I didn't sleep much that night. Could've=been the paella, but more likely I was=stressing about meeting Coco.= Somewhere around 2:00 a.m., when I=was sure Dad was zonked, I got out of bed=and pulled on my jeans and a s.h.i.+rt. I=grabbed a room key and went downstairs=to the business center to check e-mail.= Nothing from Coco, so I read some of=the other messages I'd been ignoring the=last few days. They were all from friends=at school.= =.

Fr: [email protected]= To: [email protected]= Subject: Wa.s.sup???= hey =wa.s.sup =someone =said =yr =in=costa ricka or russ.h.i.+a or s/ware izzat=right well b cool and stay safe you=missed =a =b.i.t.c.hin =party =last =pm =at=gavin's house no parents + lotsa beer=+ laaaadies= "Fr: [email protected]"To: [email protected]"Subject: w/r r u?"Attached: You gottta hear this!"

hey webbmaster. didnt c u @ G's=party and yr not r/trnin my t/msgs or=calls u ok? g's party was awsumest of=the year open this file. u wont bleeve=yr ears= I clicked on the attachment and was=treated to the sound of farts performing the=opening =bars =of =Beethoven's =Fifth=Symphony.= I =hit CANCEL =and =closed =the =file. =I=decided =to =reread =Coco's =messages=instead.= It =wasn't =my =imagination. =She wasdifferent. Unlike my friends, she sounded=alive. Awake. She was funny, which meant=she was also smart. And she was polite,=which meant she was also nice. Best of all,=she seemed to =like me. Me! ME! ME!!!=Which, I admit, made me like her even=more.= I decided to reread the messages I'd sent=her. h.e.l.l, I didn't sound half bad myself.=But it was easy to sound good in e-mail,=especially if you were operating under the=a.s.sumption =that =the =person =you =were=writing to liked you.= Was that how it worked? You just find=someone and agree to like each other-and=then take it from there? Jesus H. Christ.=This was so much more fun than wandering=around like a pack of wolves with my=dumba.s.s =guy =friends =who =lived =in =the=hopes of hooking up with a pack of willing=she-wolves-preferably she-wolves with=big =b.o.o.bs. =It =wasn't =even =fun. =It =was=boring and depressing.= This was fun. Coco was fun.= Thinking =about =her =made =me =feel=strangely energized, so I went for a walk. It=was pitch-dark, but the city was still wide=awake. Cabs raced past the hotel. A couple=kissed on the hotel steps, the girl folded=into the guy's arms.= How =did =people =learn =to =do =these=things? And why weren't there cla.s.ses at=school for stuff =like this-the stuff kids=really wanted to learn? Kissing seemed so=natural for this couple. I wanted to watch=them more closely but, Christ, I didn't=want to stare. So I kept walking.= I crossed the street to a narrow, tree-=lined park that ran the length of Paseo del=Prado. A group of sketchy-looking guys=had a card table set up with stuff on it.=They yelled something to me in Spanish,=which I didn't catch. Probably for the best.=Then they were waving something at me.=One of the guys had matches. Were they=selling =drugs? =The =matches =guy =was=lighting something.= Oh, sparklers. =They =were =selling=sparklers!= I =hadn't =thought =about =sparklers =in=forever. My dad used to put sparklers on=my birthday cake every year. We also lit=them on New Year's Eve. Dad had home=movies of me running around in my Indiana=Jones =pajamas =at =midnight, =holding=sparklers over my head and squealing.= Matches Guy was saying something to=me. "Para ti, cinco euros." He was waving=a handful of five sparklers at me.= Five =sparklers =for =five =euros? =That=seemed reasonable. I reached in my pocket=and pulled out a five-euro bill. Matches=Guy took the money and handed me four=sparklers.= "Uno mas," I said, pretty sure that was=Spanish for one more.= They =laughed =and =pretended =not =to=understand me-or the fact that I knew I'd=just been rooked one sparkler.= I =should've =moved =on. =I =should've=known better than to try to be a tough guy=with =them. =Judging =from =their =business=hours and retail s.p.a.ce, they were marginal=characters with thuggish leanings. But I=wanted my fifth sparkler, dammit.= "Five =for =five," =I =said. ="Cinco =por=cinco."= They suddenly stopped laughing.= "Que dijo?" Matches Guy asked.= "Cinco por cinco," I said again.= The guys looked at one another and took=off running, =leaving their card table and=sparklers behind.= I helped myself to a sparkler-I hadpaid for it, after all-and kept walking.= Sparklers. This was perfect. I'd take=them to Paris and give them to Coco when=I met her at the train station.= Or maybe I'd keep them with me and=light one after we kissed for the first time.=And if there was other stuff to follow,=well, I'd light a sparkler to commemorate=that. I wouldn't have to tell her it was my=first time. Or maybe I would. She sounded=like a girl who'd be cool with that. I'd just=have to play it by ear.= I walked back to the hotel and took the=stairs up to our fourth-floor room. I opened=the door quietly, careful not to wake Dad.=He =was =out =cold. =After =slipping =the=sparklers inside my (or, really Coco's)=duffel bag, I lay in bed wide awake until=the =sun =came =up. =I =was =equal =parts=exhausted and excited.= This is what New Year's Eve used tofeel like, I thought, impatient as an eight-=year-old boy for the day to begin.=

CHAPTER 26"Coco".

I thought Mom would never leave.= And I really did feel crummy that the=very =last thing I'd said to her, after she=asked for the five-hundredth time if I was=okay =with =her =leaving =was: Mother, Icannot get better with you hovering overme like this!

Honestly, I wanted to strangle myself=when I said stuff like that to her. But it was=almost like I couldn't help it. My bratty,=eight-year-old =self =was =always =more=verbal than my trying-to-be-nice eighteen-=year-old self. I knew I was uberstressing=about meeting Webb and taking it out on= Mom. But of course I couldn't tell her that.=When she was finally gone, I threw on=some clothes and ran down to the Internet=place. =My =fingers =flew =across =the=keyboard.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: [email protected]=Subject: =Strangers =on =a =Train=Platform= Spidey!= My mom just left. Believe it or not,=I really DID get sick, but I'm feeling=much better now. Think I was just=nervous. =(You =too?) =Anyway, =I'll=meet you tonight. Just tell me which=station and I'll be there, OK?= Blouse Girl= P.S. I'll wear an article of your=clothing for easy identification.= I waited. Was it possible he'd given up=on =me? =Or =maybe =he'd =chickened =out.= Before I could consider other possibilities,= I had a new message.= =Fr: [email protected]=To: =Subject: =Re: =Strangers =on =a =Train=Platform= Thanks for coming up with a t.i.tle=for =our =little =scheme. =And =please=don't worry yourself sick. I'm the=most harmless guy you (don't) know.= Leaving here p.r.o.nto. I'll bring your=bag. I =like the idea of you wearing=something =of =mine. =I'll =wear=something of yours, too. We'll switch=clothes =in =some =dramatic =and=Hitchc.o.c.kian way.= Station = Gare de Lyon. See you=there at 10:41 pm.= Love,= Spidey= Oh my G.o.d. There it was again: Love.

Suddenly I felt sick to my stomach-=again. Switch clothes in some dramaticand Hitchc.o.c.kian way? Was he suggesting=we strip each other like in a creepy p.o.r.n=flick?= I =read =the =message =again. Our littlescheme? Did he think we were going to=have s.e.x?= Then =I =quickly =reread =all =of =his=messages, searching for clues. They were=everywhere.= (h) fall madly in love . . . I haven'tdone it, either. But I'm ready . . . Try,Blousey. That's all I can ask. Mr.Hitchc.o.c.k is rooting for us.

s.h.i.+t. He definitely wanted to have s.e.x.= Okay, granted, having s.e.x was on my to-=do list before I left for college. I definitely=did not want to be the only girl in the=freshman cla.s.s at Was.h.i.+ngton University=who hadn't done it. And maybe the first=time would be easier with someone you=never had to see again. Maybe this was=perfect!= Okay, it was perfect. So why was I=completely freaked?= Because I didn't even know this guy.=What =was =I =thinking? =Why =were =we=moving =so =fast? =And =what =about =birth=control? Someone was going to have to=bring that up. I hoped it didn't have to be=me. =I =mean, =I could. And I would if I=absolutely had to. My mother had been=harping on the importance of safe s.e.x since=I was six years old. But she'd neglected to=tell =me =the =most =important =part: Whobrings the condoms-the girl or the guy?

When I got back to the apartment, I=plugged in the electric kettle for tea. While=the water was heating up, I flipped through=my Paris guidebooks in a frenzy. I knew=I'd seen something in one of the books=about buying condoms in Paris. Where was=it? s.h.i.+t! Where the h.e.l.l was it?!

Oh, =here: The only place to buycondoms in Paris is at a pharmacy.

Webb's train wasn't scheduled to arrive=until late. Would pharmacies still be openthen? Should I go out and buy somecondoms now-just in case?

Oh, G.o.d. I was starting to work myself=up into a full-blown panic attack. If I got=hives on top of this, I'd kill myself.= I turned off the teakettle. Then I took all=of =Webb's =clothes =out =of =his =bag =and=examined them, article by article, =like a=criminal =psychologist. =Unmatched =tube=socks. =(Was =he =careless =or =carefree?)=Three Speed Stick deodorant stubs. (Manly=and =sweaty =or =OCD =issues?) =Rumpled=jeans and s.h.i.+rts. (Typical guy or a red=herring?) His dog-eared copy of Walden.=(At least he's a reader. But Th.o.r.eau? Bit=of a slacker.) Plain boxer shorts with the=little flap in the front. (Okay, he's a boy.=So he has a . . .)= I ran back to the Internet place so I could=reread all of Webb's e-mails slowly, from=beginning to end. With each message I=read, I breathed a little more easily. Need Itell you what my nickname was inelementary school? Charlotte.

With =a =childhood =nickname =like=Charlotte, he couldn't be a s.e.x maniac. In=fact, he sounded really nice. And funny.=And smart. A triple threat, as my friends=and I called the nice/funny/smart combo=platter. And his plaid boxer shorts were=cute.= As I walked back to the apartment for=the second time that morning, my mind=spun like a kaleidoscope with a dizzying=combination =of =thoughts: I can't believe I'm going to have s.e.x tonight!!!!!!!!!!!!!Will it hurt? Will we laugh? Would I cry?Would he secretly think I was fat? Orugly? Or beautiful? What would I say?Would he be nervous, too? Should Icompliment his . . . Hitchc.o.c.k?

Then a terrible idea occurred to me:=What if Webb was into tantric s.e.x, thathippie style of s.e.x that lasts all night?

Ugh. I just wanted to do it and get it overwith.= My first real date and my first s.e.xual=experience. I'd kill two birds with one=stone. Or wait, that's rude to birds.

Feed two birds with one meal. That was=it.=I made a cup of tea and then =left the=apartment in search of a pharmacy.=

CHAPTER 27"Andrew".

I =woke =up =to =the =sound =of =singing. =I=cursed, thinking the noise was coming from=the room next door. Then I glanced at=Webb's bed: empty.= Minutes later, Webb emerged from the=bathroom. He was freshly showered and=wearing one of the plush terry-cloth robes=provided by the hotel. I noted the rare=appearance of comb marks through his wet=hair.= "You're =up =early," =I =said. =Then =I=remembered something. "Webb, were you=awake in the middle of the night?"= "Uh-huh," =he =answered. ="I =couldn't=sleep. So I went downstairs to check e-=mail."= "Jesus Christ, Webb. Why didn't you=just use my BlackBerry? You can get to=your Facebook account or e-mail on it."= "No can do," Webb said, smiling slyly.="Privacy."= "Right." =And =with =that =I =heard =my=BlackBerry buzz. Eight new messages-all=from Solange. And it wasn't even seven=o'clock.= I realized I probably wouldn't have time=to return to the hotel and change before the=gala, so I hung a jacket, s.h.i.+rt, and tie on a=hanger. I felt tired just thinking of all the=things that had to be done in the next=twelve and a half hours.= "You're going to wear your new jacket=tonight, right?" I asked Webb.= "Yep," =he =said =with =a =faint =note =of=excitement in his voice. I was pleased he=liked the jacket.= "And you're going to do a better job=keeping in touch with me today, right?"= "Correct," he answered.= "Great. =I've =gotta =get =moving. =And=tomorrow morning, I plan on sleeping in.=So no singing in the shower, please."= "Won't happen," Webb said in a happy=voice.= He was certainly in a good mood. His=color even seemed better. He looked less=pale. His cheeks were almost rosy. Then it=hit me like a brick to the forehead. It was=obvious what Webb's problem had been=the =past =two =days, =and =why =he =was=suddenly so light on his feet.= He'd been constipated.= I mentally kicked myself for not picking=up =on =the =clues =earlier. What kind ofun.o.bservant parent was I?

CHAPTER 28"Daisy".

As soon as I left for the airport, I regretted=it.= What if it wasn't a stomach bug? What if=it was food poisoning? What if she became=dangerously dehydrated? People died from=that.= And =leaving =her =alone =in =a =foreign=country? What kind of mother was I?

Then again, maybe Solange was right.=Coco was eighteen. She'd be on her own=in the fall at college. I'd left her with a pile=of euros, a list of phone numbers, tea,=juice, plenty of food.= And, =yes, =she was the world's most=responsible kid. I'd never had to worry=about her-not her grades, not friends, not=drugs, not drinking. If anything, she was=too cautious. My financial planner told me=this was common in women, especially=those =of =us =with =deep =streaks =of=perfectionism. =We =had =to =get =better =at=taking =risks, =he =said, =and =we =had =to=encourage our daughters to do the same.= But leaving her alone-in Paris? What=was =I thinking? And how much of my=willingness to leave her in bed for a day=was a result of my desire to get the h.e.l.l=away from her? It was a terrible thing for a=mother =to =admit, =but =there =it =was. =My=daughter could annoy me like no one else=on earth. Her self-righteousness. Her piety.=Her short temper and know-it-all att.i.tude.= Of course I knew exactly where it came=from: me. This was the h.e.l.l of parenting-=seeing all your worst qualities in someone=else. =And =then =there =was =the =added=frustration of being unable to change them=in your child just as you were unable to=change them in yourself.= At least Coco knew what she wanted.=She =wanted =to =study =psychology =at=Was.h.i.+ngton University. And she would.=She'd make a terrific psychologist. She=had no qualms about dis.h.i.+ng out advice,=especially to me. Mom, you've got to stopovertweezing your brows. Mom, you're souptight. Mom, you have to startmeditating!

She was usually right. And she was=certainly =focused =and =driven. =I =just=worried if she was happy. Of all the things=I'd tried to teach her, that was the one area=in which I'd failed. Sure, I'd taught her=how to be a good student and get good=grades, =which =translated =into =getting =a=good job as an adult. But there was more=to life than work, wasn't there?= My mind flashed back to that annoying=headline: ="What =Does =Daisy =Sprinkle=Want?" =Nancy =thought =I =needed =more=therapy. I knew I needed a small vacation.=Was it too horrible to admit that what I=really wanted was a vacation from being a=mother?= To =say =motherhood =was =a =humbling=profession didn't begin to describe it. And=it wasn't just the =lack of grat.i.tude. That=part I could handle. It wasn't even the G.o.d-=awful macaroni and cheese and ridiculous=nuggets children insisted they preferred to=real food. It was the suffocation of it. The=asphyxiation. =That =combined =with =the=rejection. How ironic to find yourself at=the =wrong =end =of =an =unrequited =love=relations.h.i.+p with the very person you'd=given birth to.= Was it too awful to admit I wanted a=break from this?= Yes, it was awful. But honest, too.= As the plane took off, I pulled out my=notebook and reviewed my shopping list:=b.u.t.ter, lemon, sugar (white and powdered),=baking soda, flour, chocolate, vanilla.= At =first, =Solange =had =been =confused=when I told her that I planned to serve=predigital comfort food at her gala.= "What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"=she said when she called at dawn to make=sure I was still coming.= "Well, =didn't =you =say =this =was =an=exhibition of artists who came of age in the=postdigital world?" I asked.= "Yes," she said slowly.= "Okay, so that's the era when people=stopped baking," I explained. "Everyone=was =too =busy. =Everyone =was =either =at=work, chained to a computer, or at home=glued to a TV and video games."= "Just tell me what you are making,"=Solange said. She sounded nervous.= "Gooey =b.u.t.ter =cake," =I =said. ="Texas=sheet cake. Red velvet cake. Chocolate-=chip cookies."= "Chocolate-chimp =cookies!" =cried=Solange, her English failing her by only=one letter. "I have not thought about those=in years. Not since you made them for me=in =Paris." Then she paused. "But =Daisy,=Europeans do not eat sweets like that. This=I am sure."= "I know," I said. "So it will seem exotic=to them and vaguely nostalgic, like a past=they never knew. But it's the kind of food=that makes you feel happy and sad, =like=when you want something, but can't quite=name what it is."= "I am not sure what you mean," Solange=said. "But I =love you, and I have to go=because =the =d.a.m.n =exhibit =designer =is=making a million last-minute changes, and I=feel like killing him. I will send a driver to=pick you up at the airport at noon."= "Perfect," I said. "Wait! What about=waiters? Servers? I was going to have=Coco help me, but-"= "All taken care of," Solange interrupted.="The man I originally hired for this job, the=baker whose father died, has a whole crew=lined up. Handsome waiters with their own=tuxes. It will be perfect! Kisses!"=

CHAPTER 29"Webb".

After I read Coco's message, I sprang into=action.= First, I downloaded a free program that=lets you send e-mail messages anytime you=want. Then I wrote a bunch of vague e-=mails to Dad to be sent every 2.68 hours.= Of course I felt guilty about missing=Dad's big night. He'd been working on the=design for this exhibit for more than a year.=And I felt even guiltier lying to him. I knew=my dad only wanted the best for me. But=sometimes he didn't know what that was. I=did. The best thing for me was to meet=Coco Sprinkle in Paris.= I found the concierge in the lobby.= "You are looking for your father?" he=asked. "He left the hotel ten minutes ago."= "Gracias, senor," I said. "But no, it's=something else. No necesitamos, um, la=ayuda con la casa en la sala 403 hoy dia.=Ni manana."= "You do not need help with the house?"=he asked.= "Housekeeping," I said. "Can you ask=housekeeping not to visit room 403 today=or tomorrow?"= He scribbled a note on a pad of paper.="It is done, senor."= "Gracias," I said.= I =bolted =back =upstairs =to =the =room,=where I stuffed pillows in my bed and=pulled the covers up over it, just like in a=Disney movie. Then I grabbed Coco's bag=and hung the privado/privacy sign on the=door.= As I rode the Metro to the train station, I=felt like I was in a dream. I could feel my=life changing in a huge and fantastic way. I=could already imagine myself telling the=story to my dumba.s.s friends. You met agirl where? =they'd =ask. How? Are yous.h.i.+ttin' me?

I paid for my round-trip train ticket with=the money =Dad had given me. I hadn't=realized =how =expensive =it'd =be. =After=buying the ticket, I had only twenty euros=left when I boarded the train at eight thirty.= For the next thirteen-plus hours, I stared=out the window at the pa.s.sing towns and=countryside. =All =those =lives. =All =those=untold stories and private dramas. There=was something so beautiful and sad about=it. I felt weirdly emotional, like I was=running away from home, but also running=to a new home. I ate a cheese sandwich on=a baguette for lunch.= Hours later, I watched Spain turn into=France. I had another cheese sandwich for=dinner =around =six =o'clock. =After =two=sandwiches and a big bottle of water, I had=only ten euros =left. I tried to ignore my=appet.i.te.= As the sky darkened, I began to feel=almost giddy with excitement. The sound=of =the =train =seemed =to =be =saying:=YESshelikesyou, YESshelikesyou,YESshelikesyou. But even I realized the=absurdity of that.= Okay, =so =she =liked =me =a =little =bit,=anyway. That much was obvious in her e-=mails. But it was important to play it cool.=Not =to =be =an =idiot. =Suddenly =the =train=started mocking me with the sounds of=JEEZyou'restupid, JEEZyou'restupid,JEEZyou'restupid.= I remembered then that I'd forgotten to=wash my jeans. The train answered my=thought =with JEEZyoureekyoudumbs.h.i.+t,=JEEZyoureekyoudumbs.h.i.+t,= JEEZyoureekyoudumbs.h.i.+tc Finally at 10:40, the train pulled into the=Paris station.= I was stiff from the long ride, and my=left =leg =had =fallen =asleep. Great. Nowshe's going to think I have cerebralpalsy. I stomped my foot hard and tried to=get the blood circulating. I stepped off the=train, holding Coco's bag in my right hand.= The other pa.s.sengers seemed to be in a=big hurry. I fell to the back of the pack as I=walked down the platform. Somehow I=wanted to delay the moment we met-to=make =the =antic.i.p.ation =last =as =long =as=possible.= I knew her the second I saw her. She=was standing under a clock. Her brown=hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She=was wearing my white s.h.i.+rt and carrying=Walden.= She smiled at me.= I wanted to kiss her right then and there."

CHAPTER 30"Coco".

I never would've guessed it was him. He=looked so European!= He was wearing a crisp white s.h.i.+rt-=possibly =new-with =perfectly =decrepit=Levi's and Chuck Taylor shoes. He even=had a scarf around his neck, like all the=French guys wear. It was only when he got=closer and started to unwrap the scarf that I=realized it was my peasant blouse.= "Blouse Girl?" Webb said, handing me=my blouse.= "Yes, it's me," I said. "Hi!" I extended=my hand to shake his, but he leaned in for a=kiss.= "Aren't we supposed to do this?" he=said, kissing both sides of my face in a= funny, noncreepy way.=I laughed. "You're totally right."="I think it's a great custom," he said.="I =know," =I =said. ="It's =like, great, right?"=He was smiling at me. "Yep, great."="Totally =great," =I =added. Why was I repeating everything he said like anidiot? "Are you exhausted? I can't believe=you've been on a train all day."= "It wasn't bad," he said. "In fact it was=kinda nice."= "Really?" I asked. Why couldn't I thinkof one freakin' interesting thing to say?Why hadn't I prepared a funny little storyto tell him? ="Hey, =did =you =know =the=guillotine =wasn't =invented =by =Dr.=Guillotin?"= "Seriously?" =he =said. ="Who =invented=it?"="Uh, I'm actually not sure. Dr. Guillotin= just =sorta, =y'know, =improved =on =the=original design."= We stood there, staring at each other. Or=at least I did. He seemed like Mr. Super=Casual =Cool =while =I =apparently =was=working on my Girl Scout guillotine badge.= "What a cool train station," he finally=said, looking around. "Why don't we have=train stations like this at home?"= "I know," I said. "It's actually . . .=great."= Ack! Mom was right about actually. Itsounded stupid. I sounded stupid.

"Did you want to just hang here for=while or . . ." he began.= "Oh, no," I said. "We can actual-, I=mean, we should go back to the apartment.=Are you hungry or tired? Do you want to=get something to eat or just walk around the=city?"= "Yes, yes, yes, and yes," he said. "And= if I missed one, yes to that, too."=I laughed. "Well, you're certainly easy."=Oh G.o.d. Did I really just say that? But= he was laughing. Thank G.o.d.

"I =don't =know =about easy," =he =said,=smiling. "But I am starving. And I'm dying=to see Paris. C'mon. We've got eight hours=till my train leaves."=

CHAPTER 31"Andrew".

I should've known. Because it's always=the same.= The =day =before =an =exhibit =opens,=nothing-absolutely nothing-is right. But=by show time, the art G.o.ds always smile=down, and the opening reception is an=unqualified success. Bad dress rehearsals=make good opening nights and all that.= This show was no different. The exhibit=area =was =filled =with =well-dressed= Madrilenos who were clearly enjoying the=show, judging from their smiling faces,=which were illuminated by the tiny blue=twinkle lights I'd used to set off the s.p.a.ce.= A successful opening always felt good,=though I was too exhausted to enjoy this=one. I looked for Webb among the crowd=of =cell-phone-carrying =art =patrons=navigating through the Spin the Cell Phoneinstallation. The pulsating techno beat was=unbearable. I wandered off to the side with=a piece of sweet, golden pastry and tried to=ignore the epilepsy-inducing music.= Solange saw me from across the room.=She =walked =over, =a =thin =grin =creeping=across her face. "I just spoke with the art=critic from El Pais," she whispered in my=ear.= "Oh, yeah? What's the verdict?"= She grabbed the pastry from my hand=and took a bite. "Impressive, exciting, and=energetic," =she =said, =still =chewing =but=savoring every word.= "Nothing about the functioning toilets in=the ladies' room?"= She smiled. "Andrew, you know your=job is to draw attention to the art, not to the=s.p.a.ce. And no one does it better than you."= "Thanks."= "And I am sorry I have been such a=dictator =these =last =few =days," =she=continued, eating my dinner. "I have never=worked =for =this =museum =board =before.= Most of my clients, they are in France and=Belgium. So this was new and-"="Say no more. I understand. With a new=client, there's a zero margin of error."= "Exactly," she said. "And for a while, it=looked like the whole thing was going to=go pouf! Tumbling down. And then when=the caterer quit on Sunday, I thought I=would have the nervous breakdown."= "Right," I said, remembering one of the=few problems that wasn't mine to solve.="You didn't ask the caterer to miss his=father's funeral, did you?"= She =smiled =and =wiped =a =dusting =of=powdered sugar from her lips. "No. I have=the wonderful friend who just happens to=be a chef. It is my luck that she was on=vacation in Paris."= "That's =not =luck," =I =said. ="That's=kismet."= "What =is =the kismet?" Solange asked,=making a face.= Just then, a strangely familiar-looking=woman walked past us carrying a tray.= "Solange," she said, "you know what=kismet is."= "I do?" Solange said. "Remind me."= "It means fate or destiny," the woman=said.= "Of course," Solange replied. "My brain=has gone to merde. Daisy, you have met=Andrew Nelson, the designer of the s.p.a.ce?=Andrew, this is Daisy Sprinkle. She made=the . . . what do you call this?"= "Gooey b.u.t.ter cake," the woman said,=smiling. "Nice to meet you."= Even her voice was beautiful. Her hair=was swept up. She was wearing a black=silk =blouse =and =the =same =wide-legged=black slacks she'd worn on the plane.= Was it possible she didn't recognizeme? Had she really not seen me b.u.mp herarm while boarding?

I smiled back. "Nice to meet you."= "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. Then=turning =to =Solange, =she =added: ="Can =I=borrow your cell phone again? I want to=check on Coco."=

CHAPTER 32"Daisy".

Non, non, et non," Solange said. "You=will not call Coco now. It is late. Let the=poor =child =sleep." =She =turned =to =the=handsome designer and added: "I am the=girl's G.o.dmother, so I am ent.i.tled to an=opinion."= "I see," the man said, smiling.= He was tall. =Dark hair with flecks of=gray. Nice haircut. Friendly eyes. A kind=smile. =Lean =but =not =skinny. =He =was=wearing =a =lightweight =gray =flannel =suit=with a white s.h.i.+rt. Midfifties, maybe? I=was =surprised =Solange =hadn't =told =me=about him.= "I knew it tasted familiar," he said. "I=grew =up =on =gooey =b.u.t.ter =cake. =It =was=practically its own food group in St. Louis.=I'd forgotten how delicious it is."= And he was nice, too. Good forSolange.

"Daisy made red velvet cake, too," said=Solange. ="She =is =calling =it =nostalgia=predigital cuisine-or something like that."= "What about Rice Krispie treats?" the=guy said. "Let's not forget those."= "Oh, G.o.d. I did forget those," I said,=laughing. "And they would've been great.=Or maybe not. French marshmallows are a=little too good. For Rice Krispie treats,=you =really =need =those =cheap, =rubbery=marshmallows like we have back home." I=paused. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your=name?"= "Andrew," he said.= Good name. Solid. Cla.s.sic. And somuch better than Andy.

"And what about mock apple pie?" he=asked. "Remember the recipe on the Ritz=cracker box?"= "I made that once!" I said. "For my Girl=Scout troop."= Now he was laughing. Nice teeth. G.o.d,this guy was adorable. Why hadn'tSolange told me about him? I planned to=get Solange in a headlock when we were=alone and grill her on her new catch. He=was such an improvement over her =last=boyfriend, Jean Claude, the photographer=with an ego the size of Notre Dame.= "Anyway, sorry to interrupt you two," I=said again, excusing myself. I had dozens=more chocolate-chip cookies in the back=room. And my professional waitstaff had=professionally =disappeared =promptly =at=eleven o'clock.= I =walked =through =the =thinning =crowd=back to the private room Solange had set=aside for me. After slipping my hands into=plastic =gloves, =I =began =arranging =the=cookies in artful patterns on the empty=trays. The door opened.= "Oh, good," I said, not looking up from=my work. "At least I've got one waiter left.=Let's get rid of these. Just grab any full=tray. Tell people to take the cookies home=to their kids."= "Oh," a voice said. "All right."= I looked up. It was Andrew.= "Oh, G.o.d, I'm sorry!" I said. "I thought=you were one of my waiters." I cringed at=the thought of what I must look like in the=harsh light of the utilitarian room. Haggard=and witchy, no doubt. An old bag.= "I can help," Andrew said, smiling.= "No, no," I said. "I really thought you=were one of the-"= But =he'd =already =grabbed =a =tray =of=cookies.= "Thank you," I said. I grabbed a tray=myself and headed back to the dwindling=crowd in the reception area. I made a=beeline for Solange.= "I =cannot believe you didn't tell me=about =Andrew," =I =whispered. ="He's=fabulous."= "Yes, =he =is =nice," =Solange =said=distractedly.= "Nice? h.e.l.lo? He's so d.a.m.n nice, I'm=jealous."= Solange =stared =at =me. ="Jealous? =Of=what?"= "Of you," I said.= Solange =looked =puzzled. ="Me =and=Andrew?" Then she smiled. "Daisy, I have=been =seeing =a =sculptor =named =Maria=Luciana for six months."= "Maria?" I said. "Luciana?"="Yes. You'd like her."=I didn't know what to say. Fortunately,= we both started cackling at the exact same=second.= "You know what?" I finally said. "We=don't talk enough anymore, do we?"= "No, we do not," Solange said. "But if=you are interested in Andrew, go get him.=He is over there, serving your chocolate=chimps."=

CHAPTER 33"Webb".

I somehow forgot about my idea to give=Coco a sparkler the first time we kissed.=Then again, I hadn't planned on kissing her=on both cheeks. I was just going with the=flow and following my instincts.= "I can carry that," Coco said, as we=were walking out of the train station. She=was eyeing her bag.= "Don't be crazy," I said. "I'm the guy."= I was trying to sound funny and macho,=but =it =fell =flat. Less instinct, I thought.=More thinking. Think before talking.

"Do you have anything special you want=to see?" Coco asked. "Or do you want to=just wander around?"= "Um, well . . ." Should I let her leadthe way? Or should I tell her what I wantto see?

"Is the Eiffel Tower cool?" I asked.= "Umm," =she =said, =running =her =hands=through her s.h.i.+ny brown hair. "You know=it's kind of a tourist trap, right? When it=was =first =built, =Parisians =hated =it =and=wanted it torn down."= "Serious?" I said. "I didn't know that.=Okay, what about . . ."= "But if you want to see it, we could take=the Metro over there. It might be too late to=go up in it, but-"= "No, =let's =. =. =. =um =. =. =." d.a.m.n. Ishould've given this whole thing morethought. Why didn't I do a Wiki search onParis? "I'm pretty much up for anything.= My dad brought me here once when I was=like nine or ten, but I don't remember=anything."= "My mom did the same thing, when I=was even younger," she said. "But I've=read all the guidebooks and memorized the=maps. Let's take the Metro to Saint Michel=and just wander around the Latin Quarter."= "Cool," I said.= Why did everything I say sound sodumb and uninspired?

"We can catch the Metro right over=there," Coco said, leading the way. "Oh,=wait. What about my bag? You don't want=to drag it all over town."= "I don't mind," I said.= Okay, that sounded pathetic. Of courseI minded. Just say it! Take charge! Showsome initiative.

"Maybe =it'd =make =sense =to =dump =it=somewhere," I said.= "Let's go back to the apartment first,"=Coco said. "You can drop off the bag and=. . . you know, whatever."= Huh. Oh. Maybe she wants to have se9 now. Just a catch-and-release kind ofdeal. Hooking up and all that. I guessthat'd be okay. I hope she knows how todo it because I sure as h.e.l.l don't. I mean,c'mon, I'm sure I can figure it out. I'vethought about it enough. And if mylamebrain friends can do it, I can, too,right? Right?

"Back to the apartment," I said. "That=works for me." I sounded =like a slack-=brained dolt.= Coco led the way to the Metro station in=the =bowels =of =underground =Paris. =She=bought Metro tickets for both of us. She=was confident and take-charge. I liked that.=But as my body b.u.mped into hers in the= Metro =car, =I =felt =like =an =ignorant,=inexperienced ten-year-old boy with his=older and wiser babysitter.= I remembered what she'd written in one=of her e-mails about not wanting a luggage-=stealing conviction on her record. She said=she needed that =like she needed herpes.=Okay, so she was definitely experienced.=This was good, right? And the herpes part=was just a joke, right? Of course it was.=No need to ask her about it, right? Right.= "We've got quite a few stops to go," she=said as the Metro train =lurched forward=after a brief stop. It then stopped again=suddenly, throwing us together, her feet on=mine.= "Monsieur, je vous demande pardon,"=she =said =in =perfect =French. =She =was=laughing. "Je ne l'ai pas fait expres."= "Huh?"= "Pardon me, monsieur. It was not on=purpose," she said. "Marie Antoinette's=last words. It's what she supposedly said=to her executioner when she stepped on his=foot."= "Seriously?" I asked.= Okay, WHY was I such a dumba.s.s?Why didn't I know anything? Why didn't Itry harder in school? Why did I takeSpanish when it was obvious that girlsliked French more?

The train was moving again. I could feel=the night getting away from me.= "My s.h.i.+rt looks good on you," I said,=trying like h.e.l.l to sound charming.= "What?" she said, smiling and putting a=hand up to her ear.= "My s.h.i.+rt," I repeated, louder. "It looks=good on you."= But =the =sound =of =the =train =moving=through the tunnel had made conversation=impossible.= "What?" she asked, louder. She now=looked more annoyed than amused.= "Never mind," I mouthed, shaking my=head =in =defeat. =I =suddenly =felt =an =odd=kins.h.i.+p with Marie Antoinette.= I glanced at my watch. Eleven thirty.=Seven hours and forty minutes left.=

Day 4: Wednesday"

CHAPTER 34"Coco".

I thought I was reading the signs right, but=we =took =the =Metro =going =the =wrong=direction-ack! It was almost one o'clock=in the morning by the time we got back to=the apartment.= "This =is =really =cool," =Webb =said,=admiring =the =walls =of =Solange's =living=room.= "Yeah," I agreed. "My G.o.dmother's an=art freak, as you can tell from all these=paintings."= A stretch of awkward silence followed.= "Um," I said, trying to fill the dead air,="do you want something to eat? I picked up=some food today at the market."= Actually, I'd spent the whole freakin'=day shopping, beginning with the condoms.=I'd had to force myself not to resent Webb=for making me perform this embarra.s.sing=task. After all, he really hadn't made me=do it. He'd probably brought a whole stash=of condoms with him. And anyway, why=should I be mad at him for wanting to have=s.e.x with me? I just hoped he didn't want to=start right away. That whole tantric thing=was making me nervous.= "I'm starving," he said.= "Perfect!" I said, das.h.i.+ng to the kitchen.= I'd spent hours shopping for the perfect=date food. I decided on a baguette from the=patisserie, several hunks of cheese from=the market, a bunch of grapes (I had to go=to a different market for those), and a=bottle of wine.= "I hope you like stinky cheese," I said,=casually presenting him with the dazzling=array of fromage I'd spent hours selecting=and arranging on one of Solange's prettiest=plates.= "Stinky cheese?" he asked, wrinkling his=nose.= Oh, G.o.d. He was 100 percent adorable.I was finally getting a chance to look at=him while he =looked at the cheese. Not=only =was =he =adorable, =he =was =also=handsome. Not =like a kid in school, but=like a man.= "The French love their stinky cheese," I=said. "My mom's really into this stuff. She=always buys stinky cheese in Chicago, but=it's nothing like the cheese you can get in=France. Here, try this."= I spread a slice of the baguette with=Epoisses and pa.s.sed it to him. He popped=it in his mouth. Then I made one for myself.= "This =was =supposedly =Napoleon's=favorite =cheese," =I =said =between =bites.="It's made from raw cow's milk. Do you=like it?"= He chewed and smiled.= "Try this one," I continued, loading up a=thin slice of bread with a thick layer of=Camembert. "My mom is nutso for this=stuff. She thinks it's the best cheese in the=world. The French say Camembert tastes=like G.o.d's feet. Isn't that hilarious?"= He put it in his mouth and smiled again.= "You probably recognize this one," I=said. "Roquefort. The blue, of course, is=mold. Here you go."= I smeared some on a piece of bread and=pa.s.sed it to him. He took a big bite.= "It =comes =from =a =small =village =in=southern France," I explained. Why did Isuddenly sound like my mother? ="The=milk isn't pasteurized, so there's a risk of=Listeria infection, which, get this, can be=deadly in some people and cause pregnant=women to lose their babies."= Okay, WHY was I talking aboutpregnancy and babies? He was going tothink I wanted to get pregnant. And whywasn't he saying anything? Was itbecause I was talking like a madwomanwho wouldn't shut up? No. I was leavingplenty of airtime for him to jump in andsay something. But he was just sittingthere, eating and smiling weirdly at me.Was he thinking about s.e.x? Was he a s.e.xmaniac? Was cheese like oysters-one ofthose hormone-charged delicacies thatturns men on? Did he think I was tryingto turn him on? s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t.