Perspective

The barista flicked her stir stick one last time as she poured the remaining espresso into my cup. She passed it to me over the flawless marble counter top with gold trim. 

“Bonne miss jour,” She said.

“Je vous remercie” I reply. 

I take my cup an walk to the quaint terrace overlooking the Parisian hills. My Louis Vuittons click-clack gloriously the rhythm of my peaceful stride against ancient cobblestone. I can hardly help but lift my chin higher and let the my red lips crack a smirk.

This is the life I have made for myself. I make it to my seat across from Carter, who reads the New York journal with his tea still in mid steep.  I sit back and the morning sun kisses my cheeks. Still  a mild chill in the air, for late April, but not the slightest wind. I look ahead to him and watch his hands. His hands always kept me intrigued. They were without blemish and they were far smoother than I could ever dream for. They were tanned, and just as they were smooth and feminine in look and touch, they were just as masculine when he went for what he wanted. I make my gaze upward, taking in and agreeing with every precise pick in both button down and vest he chose for today. How does he do it? dress better than every gay man I dress on the runway! Yet here he is, mine. Well I suppose he’s mine and I am his. All that matters is that I know he is here now. His jet black hair and brown eyes, his 5o’clock shadow and chiseled jaw, and to make it hurt only a little more; one dimple on his left cheek when he smiles. How many times have I kissed that spot. He hates it, always wiping away my kisses. 

I stop the thought and reach for my phone. I turn thirty four this week, and the ever pressing absence of a Tiffany engagement ring on my polished finger reminds me that this could be the year he proposes. I punch in my password to display he and I in the Himalayan Mountains on my iphone screen. I tap to facebook and check us in -

“Just a leisurely morning with my main squeeze in Paris, life is good”

I hit post and then head over to Instagram. I hike my skirt just a little more and position my legs crossed towards Carter. I place my delicately hot cafe’ in proximity to the shoes I want to make sure get captured in the photo. I align it all just right, Carter and his jaw, oh and perfect his rolex watch I got him in Barbados catching a slight reflection and shimmer from the sun. The hills behind him and that gorgeous hair of his. I snap and capture the very essence of the beautiful life I have made. 

“I’m the lucky one” It will read.  I slide through and decide on the Valencia filter.. Post!

“God dammit Alena, enough with the pictures already. You can’t ever stop with the pictures and checking in.” Carter says in a low tone. 

I roll my eyes and sip my coffee. It’s gone cold. I watch the screen of my phone light up with notifications. Ah, Mary says, OMG can I please be you!!. 

Gretchen that fat whore says; Rough life eh? when will he put a ring on it?

“Ha, Carter look on instagram, what your ugly cousin Gretchen has said”.

A long and drawn out sigh from him and he puts down his paper and grabs his phone beside the tea.

He reads and chuckles to himself. “A ring eh? That’s cute.” 

He put his phone down and shakes his head side to side. I can’t help the burning sensations lately in my stomach. The end is near Alena, I think to myself. 

I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat and pick my phone up again. Before I tap the phones password I catch a glimpse of my reflection. The lines around my lips are more and more pronounced these days. I look back to Carter, and the ambiance that we’ve surrounded ourselves in time and time again. Five years we’ve been traveling and drinking the finest wines and making love in the most pristine sheets all the 5 star resorts have to offer. He doesn’t kiss me anymore, and I can’t remember the last time he merely held my hand. The thought of a life apart from such a man, makes my stomach turn. I start to think of all the things I dislike of him, so that when I go to tell the story of our end, I somehow make it out on top. With now an ever appearing ache in my heart, I push the thought away. I unlock my phone, and begin to look at my Instagram feed from everyone back home. The little chubby cheeked cherubs with cereal all over the counter, the newly weds, embracing in a kiss on the beach. One friend has a daughter that just graduated the eighth grade. 

“I’ve booked us a couples massage downstairs at eleven” I say to him. The slight wind brings a lock of his dark hair into those chestnut eyes. He wont look in my direction. 

“I’ll be heading back to New York today, forgot to tell you, it’s business. But you go on ahead. I’ve paid us until the end of the week here in Paris, stay and enjoy it.” He stood and slowly walked around the table over to me. I still sat with my legs crossed, head and eyes focused on the goddam hills. His fingers touched my wrist, and gave it a little pinch. He walked away.

A notification appeared on my phone, from my lifelong best friend. Her Instagram comment; 

Alena, I wish my husband made us travel!! But hopefully after this baby pops out we can join you! love you have the greatest time!