Torn [h.s.]

One

We arrived in Paris in the late spring before the full glare of summer had settled into the air, thank God. It's hot enough already and it's barely June. Although, I must admit, I would take the quaint streets of Paris over the hustle of New York any day. I understand the appeal that comes along with a city like New York; bright lights, big city kind of deal. To me, New York always seemed like a concrete prison. When you live there your entire life, it tends to lose its sparkle. 

Even though I enjoy the scenery here in Paris, that does not mean I came here without a fight. I have a life back in New York, a life I couldn't live if I went away for the entire summer. My friends and I just graduated from high school, which makes this summer the last official summer of fun. The time between high school in college is sacred, you're stuck in an in-between that feels weightless, almost as if it was the calm before the storm. 

I also didn't want to leave my boyfriend, Niall. Niall and I have been dating since our sophomore year of high school, and I do love him, but the older we get the more we seem to grow apart, and I was hoping this summer would change that, or at least give me some clarity.  

Niall has always been the popular guy, everyone loves his infectious laugh and kind eyes. I never cared much about high school status, but dating Niall definitely gave me some pull. He is very sweet, but if I honestly thought he wouldn't cheat on me at least once this summer while I'm away, I'd be stupid. Niall gets what he wants, and that includes girls. 

I've known he's probably cheated on me before, but honestly it never really bothered me much. It's high school, and I have fun with him. Plus, while he's hooking up with Jessica from English, who knows, maybe I could find someone too...

"Elizabeth Carlisle, you come here this instant!"

My mother's sharp voice pulls me from my thoughts. Great, wonder what I did this time, I think to myself as I walk down the stairs of our townhouse. She continues her ranting before I even reach the kitchen.

"You've already blown off your French tutor twice and we've only been here a week! Honestly, Elizabeth, what do you expect to do with your time? This is not a free-for-all. You know we are here for your father, and learning French is the best way to mingle at dinner parties."

She says this as if I haven't had my French tutor since I learned to speak.  

"Maman, je parle français très bien, et aussi, je voudrais des temps libre s'il vous plaît" 

I know exactly once the words leave my mouth this was the wrong response. The one thing my mother hates more than me defying her, is being considered incompetent. Even though my French is barely conversational, it's more than she knows, and she hates it. 

"Fine. You want to play it that way. You'll be lucky if you see anything other than the inside of this house all summer." 

I stifle a laugh as I head back upstairs towards my bedroom, even she knows that's a load of shit. One of my main "duties" as daughter to successful business man Henry Carlisle is to attend dinner parties and schmooze with his associates and their sons. Mostly their sons. I know my role in this family and I play it very well, it's all a game to me. 

Those people already have an idea of me in their heads, so all I have to do is play into their games. I don't have to be myself, I just have to be whatever version they already have concocted. It's easier that way, to keep myself closed off, it's hard when you aren't sure of other's intentions with you. Most people already know who I am when I walk in to a room, so I don't bother correcting their assumptions. 

Father already told me that tonight is a very important dinner party, it is a gala in honor of the Atelier des Lumières, one of the more contemporary art museums in Paris. I've never been, but the way Father was describing it to me sounds magical. Famous works of Van Gogh are projected on the walls surrounding you, immersing you in the painting while music and other sounds fill your senses. 

It seems enchanting. 

I lay back on my bed already dreaming about tonight; what I'll wear, who I'll meet. I nearly forget about the envelope tucked neatly in the back of my dresser drawer as I drift off to visions of colors whirring around my head...

//

So sorry if I got the French wrong I literally haven't studied French in like three years. I meant for it to say "Mom, I speak French very well, and also, I would like some free time please." 

I've also never been to that museum I just have always wanted to!!