Seven Letters from Paris by Samantha Vérant Page B

Chris’s mind, I was married to him and therefore he was the only person who mattered in my life. I was the wife. Period. The fights about my mom started two years into our marriage, creating more than a wedge; it had driven us apart. As much as my mom had protected me over the years, I also protected her. To me, it wasn’t a big deal that she occasionally interrupted our meals with phone calls. Look what she’d given up for me. But Chris didn’t see it that way.
    â€œI wanted to.”
    My mom pinched her lips together, her eyes narrowed into a glare. By the way she was breathing, I could tell she wanted to say something else on the subject. For once, she held back. “Sam, I’ve said this to you time and time again. The most important thing for me is to see you happy. You’ve been punishing yourself for far too long and you’re not the martyr type. Now that you’re leaving him, I’m noticing positive changes.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œFor one thing, you’re actually talking to me again, not brushing me off.” She squeezed my hand tightly. “It’s good to have the old Sam back. I’ve missed you.”
    Jessica had said the exact same thing. I wondered how much marriage had changed me.
    We arrived at our hotel at a little past eight in the evening and ordered room service. My mom and I got comfortable on the bed, both of us wearing yoga pants and T-shirts. I pulled out my computer and handed her Jean-Luc’s letters from 1989 while I checked my email. Stunned, I stared at Jean-Luc’s latest message, which described his scientific view of faith, how nature hates empty spaces and unbalanced systems, and how the world needs to be filled with wondrous things. Since he’d been on a business trip to Germany, I was pretty sure he hadn’t read my last message. The more I thought about what I’d written to him, the more like an idiot I felt. “I wish I hadn’t ruined things with Jean-Luc with the last email I sent,” I muttered. “He’s going to hate me.”
    Mom peered over her reading glasses. “Well, what you wrote couldn’t have been that bad.”
    â€œNo, it was pretty bad.” I pulled up the email, cleared my throat, and I read. “Everything in a relationship is passionate in the beginning. But like a star, this kind of intensity fades in brightness over time. After time, things get comfortable—like an old pair of socks, holes included. I’m still leaving Chris, but I need some time to figure out what exactly it is that I’m looking for. Really, you are a truly incredible man, a gift. Our whirlwind of letters caught me off guard. And I wouldn’t trade them in for anything in the world. I will be here for you. But right now, this love affair of letters has to stop, and I can only be your friend.”
    From his spot on the bed, I swore, even my dog groaned.
    â€œYou wrote Jean-Luc a ‘Dear John letter’? Why on earth would you do a thing like that?” asked my mom.
    â€œI was confused.”
    â€œAnd now?”
    â€œI’m not.” I shook my guilt-ridden head. “I’ve been discussing all these pent-up feelings with Jean-Luc. I look forward to his emails. I look forward to writing him back. He knows everything about me.”
    â€œEverything?”
    Technology had connected Jean-Luc and me in a way I’d never thought possible. I’d opened up my soul to the man. “Everything.”
    â€œIt sounds like Jean-Luc is very supportive of you. You’re just writing letters. It’s not like you’re getting married to him and moving to France—”
    I raised my brows.
    â€œOh, come on, Sam. I know you’re a dreamer, but be realistic. You haven’t even seen him in twenty years—”
    I pulled up the photo he’d finally sent. “In the first picture Jean-Luc had sent me, he’d cropped his head out of it. I