She turned to stare at him when he said it, and this time she realized who he was. He was the man who had brought the beautiful paper lanterns to the White Dinner and held one for her and told her to make a wish. She smiled when she recognized him, and where they had met before.
“Not yet. It might take a little while,” she said easily, and he was smiling too.
“Oh, one of
those
wishes. It sounds like it’s worth waiting for.” She nodded, and he glanced into her basket, impressed by the assortment of delicacies she’d chosen. The basket was heavy on her arm. “It looks like you’re having quite a party.” She had added two bottles of red wine, which added to the weight and the festive look.
“I’m taking it all to my son in Berlin.”
“Lucky boy. He has good taste, and a nice mom,” he said, noticing the foie gras and the wine.
“He’s a starving artist, he gets tired of sausages and beer.” He laughed at what she said, and then it was her turn at the checkout. When she finished signing the receipt, she turned to the man behind her as she left. “Thank you again for the wish, and the pretty lantern. You made the night for all of us.” She smiled at him and noticed that he had deep brown eyes, and he looked straight at her. There was something very powerful about his gaze, and it felt like an electric current running through her. She remembered that she had noticed his eyes at the White Dinner too, when he held out the lantern for her and told her to make a wish. There had been urgency in his tone then, before the lantern floated away, and he looked just as intense now. He had a serious, handsome face.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. So did I. I hope you get your wish. And have fun with your son.”
“Thank you,” she said, and left. She thought about him for a minute, and how attractive he was, and then forgot about him, and went back to her apartment, and packed the food for Eric in her valise. She couldn’t wait to see him. It had been too long. Waiting four months to see her youngest child felt like an eternity to her. It always did. The long time span between when she saw them was one of the reasons why she worked so much. She enjoyed her writing, but it also populated her life with the fictional people she wrote about, who became real to her while she was creating them. Writing screenplays, and scripts for occasional documentaries about subjects that were meaningful to her, filled her life, and the results were excellent. She put her heart and soul into everything she did, her writing, her friendships, and her children, when they let her. She was excited at the prospect of seeing Eric in Berlin.
Chapter 4
W hen Valerie came home from work at night now, she could cut the tension in the apartment with a knife. She had hardly spoken to Jean-Philippe since he had told her about Beijing. They had dinner together after they put the children to bed, and unlike the conversations they usually enjoyed at the end of their workday, these days she said not a word. He felt like she was punishing him, but she said she just needed time to think. And in the meantime she didn’t want to discuss it with him. She knew all the pros and cons. But her mulling over the decision had precluded all other subjects or exchange.
Their children were too young to understand the unpleasant atmosphere, but they were instinctively aware of the tension between their parents. And inevitably their ultimate decision would impact the children as well. For Western children, to grow up in Beijing didn’t sound ideal to her. If nothing else, the pollution was terrible, living conditions difficult, and most Westerners did not take their young children to Beijing with them. Their children were five, three, and two. She was even worried about medical care for them there, and the risk of disease. For Valerie, it was not just about giving up her job and impacting her career, maybe permanently, but also about her children. Jean-Philippe
“Not yet. It might take a little while,” she said easily, and he was smiling too.
“Oh, one of
those
wishes. It sounds like it’s worth waiting for.” She nodded, and he glanced into her basket, impressed by the assortment of delicacies she’d chosen. The basket was heavy on her arm. “It looks like you’re having quite a party.” She had added two bottles of red wine, which added to the weight and the festive look.
“I’m taking it all to my son in Berlin.”
“Lucky boy. He has good taste, and a nice mom,” he said, noticing the foie gras and the wine.
“He’s a starving artist, he gets tired of sausages and beer.” He laughed at what she said, and then it was her turn at the checkout. When she finished signing the receipt, she turned to the man behind her as she left. “Thank you again for the wish, and the pretty lantern. You made the night for all of us.” She smiled at him and noticed that he had deep brown eyes, and he looked straight at her. There was something very powerful about his gaze, and it felt like an electric current running through her. She remembered that she had noticed his eyes at the White Dinner too, when he held out the lantern for her and told her to make a wish. There had been urgency in his tone then, before the lantern floated away, and he looked just as intense now. He had a serious, handsome face.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. So did I. I hope you get your wish. And have fun with your son.”
“Thank you,” she said, and left. She thought about him for a minute, and how attractive he was, and then forgot about him, and went back to her apartment, and packed the food for Eric in her valise. She couldn’t wait to see him. It had been too long. Waiting four months to see her youngest child felt like an eternity to her. It always did. The long time span between when she saw them was one of the reasons why she worked so much. She enjoyed her writing, but it also populated her life with the fictional people she wrote about, who became real to her while she was creating them. Writing screenplays, and scripts for occasional documentaries about subjects that were meaningful to her, filled her life, and the results were excellent. She put her heart and soul into everything she did, her writing, her friendships, and her children, when they let her. She was excited at the prospect of seeing Eric in Berlin.
Chapter 4
W hen Valerie came home from work at night now, she could cut the tension in the apartment with a knife. She had hardly spoken to Jean-Philippe since he had told her about Beijing. They had dinner together after they put the children to bed, and unlike the conversations they usually enjoyed at the end of their workday, these days she said not a word. He felt like she was punishing him, but she said she just needed time to think. And in the meantime she didn’t want to discuss it with him. She knew all the pros and cons. But her mulling over the decision had precluded all other subjects or exchange.
Their children were too young to understand the unpleasant atmosphere, but they were instinctively aware of the tension between their parents. And inevitably their ultimate decision would impact the children as well. For Western children, to grow up in Beijing didn’t sound ideal to her. If nothing else, the pollution was terrible, living conditions difficult, and most Westerners did not take their young children to Beijing with them. Their children were five, three, and two. She was even worried about medical care for them there, and the risk of disease. For Valerie, it was not just about giving up her job and impacting her career, maybe permanently, but also about her children. Jean-Philippe
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