Ульяна Солнечная – Its Never Too Late - As Long As Youre Alive (страница 7)

Kate opened the notebook.

On a clean page she wrote:

Tom. Thank you. For everything. I’m going. For both of us.

She stared at the words for a long while.

Then she closed the notebook, walked over to the refrigerator, and straightened the map of Paris.

Outside, the sun was setting — huge and orange, the way it only ever seems to in Oklahoma.

And all at once, Kate felt it clearly:

she was not alone.

The girl who had once dreamed of Paris was with her.

Tom, who had quietly regretted never taking her, was with her.

Her daughter, who had finally understood, was with her.

And Barbara, with her two cats and her Wednesday apple pie, was with her too.

“Well then,” Kate said to the empty kitchen.

“Time to start getting ready.”

She still hadn’t bought a ticket.

She still hadn’t learned the language.

She still didn’t know whether she would ever find Jacob, or simply sit alone on the banks of the Seine.

But one thing she knew for certain:

there was nothing left to postpone.

Jacob

Two weeks passed.

Kate kept faithfully going to French class.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, she got in the car and drove to the college, where Thomas patiently explained the difference between masculine and feminine nouns, while Barbara whispered ridiculous little jokes about Napoleon into her ear.

On Wednesdays, they met at Barbara’s house.

They ate apple pie, drank instant coffee, and practiced verb conjugations.

The two cats — a fat orange one named Garfield and a skinny black one named Cherry — rubbed against their legs and demanded attention.

Kate caught herself laughing.

Often.

Truly.

For the first time in years.

But the name written in the notebook did not disappear:

Jacob.

She had not spoken it aloud in half a century.

Sometimes she remembered him briefly, carefully — the way one touches an old photograph, afraid it might tear.

Without letting the thought go any further.

Without asking what if.

But now, as her life had begun to change, the past stirred too.

As if every unsaid word had risen up and was standing in line, demanding to be heard.

Kate did not know whether he was alive.

Where he was.

Whether he was married.

Whether he had children.

Whether he remembered her at all.

Maybe it was better not to know.

She circled around the notebook for days without opening it.

But every morning, passing the old bureau, she felt it there inside:

the truth she had never spoken.

One evening, after another lesson at Barbara’s, she finally gave in.

“Do you have a computer?” she asked.

Barbara looked surprised.

“A laptop? Sure. My son left me his old one. Why?”

“Teach me how to look for people,” Kate said, trying to sound calm, though her voice trembled.

“On the internet.”

Barbara looked at her carefully.

Behind the thick lenses of her glasses, her clever eyes flashed with immediate understanding.

“A man?” she asked simply.

Kate nodded.

“A long time ago?”

“A very long time.”

“Did you love him?”

“I don’t know,” Kate said softly. “Maybe.”

Barbara sighed, stroked Garfield, and stood up.

“Come on, then. I’ll show you. I’m an expert at this. I’ve found two exes, one old school friend, and a third cousin who still owes me money.”

Kate laughed despite the tension in her chest.

Barbara’s computer really was old.