Despite the fact that she was crying, Debbie couldn't help but feel silently relieved. And more than a little bit justified. Everything was currently going wrong, everything else was going to go wrong, and she was caught up in the middle of it. She knew that part of it had been her fault. She had taken a long time packing, which meant they left a little later. But neither of them had checked the traffic reports, so they didn't plan accurately. It seemed that the universe was hell bent on making them as late as possible for the convention.
By allowing herself to cry, she allowed herself the freedom to get all of her frustrations out without needing to say anything. She was painfully aware that, beside her, Alex had stiffened from uncertainty.
You don't have to say anything, Alex, Debbie thought. Please just let me cry. You're not obligated to make me feel better. I'm jetlagged and feeling very emotional, if you say anything you're going to make it wose.
Out the corner of her eye, she saw Alex turn toward her. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned away from him to look out the window. As frustrated as she was by the whole situation, she had to admit that Paris was a beautiful city. Seeing the City of Lights from the back seat of a cab was a great way to get to know the layout of the city.
It's just a shame it's going to make us so damn late! she thought bitterly. She rested her head against the cool pane of glass. The roads were just as packed as the highway had been back in Baltimore.
Suddenly, the driver said something in French. It sounded like a joke. Alex responded, sounding annoyed. The driver said something in an apologetic tone. Alex grunted and fell backward into his seat, tilting his head back so he was looking at the roof of the cab. His lips were pressed into a tight line and he had closed his eyes. Debbie heard him breathing. He was taking long, deep breaths to calm himself down. Wiping the tears from her eyes and regaining her composure, Debbie turned to Alex.
"What was that?" She asked. She cringed at how her voice sounded. Her throat was a little swollen from tears, and it came out sounding a little raspy.
Alex opened his eyes and turned his head to face her. "Our buddy here saw you crying," he said in a low voice, pointing at the driver. "In the rearview mirror. He said," Alex thought for a moment as he translated in his head, "he asked if you're always crying like that, and said I should look into upgrading to a model that doesn't leak as much."
Debbie's jaw dropped. "Well that's not nice!" She said, in her strained, tear-soaked voice, it sounded pathetic. She glared at the back of the driver's head, and caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. She looked like an absolute wreck! Her makeup was smeared from the tears, her hair was wild and in sore need of a brush, and on top of it all she had just gotten off a plane, so her clothes were more than a little rumpled.
Debbie shrank back in her sea, feeling a faint blush creep up her neck. This was humiliating.
"I'm sorry," Alex said weakly. "For what it's worth, I told him you clean up nicely, and you're one of the most beautiful women in the United States."
Debbie gave him a flat stare. "And what did he respond to that?"
Alex gritted his teeth and winced slightly. "He told me that I need to get my eyes checked," he said in a small voice. "Don't worry, I'm not tipping him." He glared at the meter that was running over. "He's taking enough of my money as it is."
Debbie sighed and closed her eyes. "Don't worry about it, Alex," she said. "We aren't together anymore, you shouldn't feel the need to defend me like this."
Alex gaped at her. "But-"
"No buts," Debbie said, opening her eyes and looking at him. "You're going to tip him, nothing too crazy, but just enough so that he doesn't harass us afterwards. Got it?"
Alex gritted his teeth again, and nodded. Then, he gave her a sympathetic look.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Debbie nodded, silently relieved. She was growing increasingly concerned that the trip was about to get a whole lot worse. She pulled out her phone and checked the time, and suddenly it felt like someone had punched her in the gut. A bitter taste filled her mouth, and she wanted to cry.
Alex looked over at her, his forehead creased with worry when he saw her expression.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
Debbie showed him her phone. He went pale.
"Oh my god," he said softly. "We're screwed."
Debbie nodded, checking her phone again to make sure that the time was correct.
"I can't believe it," she said. "We missed our check-in time."
Alex groaned and jammed his fingers into his hair
"I should have listened to you!" he moaned. "This is all my fault!"
Debbie shook her head. She wanted to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but she was worried that it would set a precedent and give him the wrong idea. Instead, she sat back in her seat and watched as Paris flew by outside the car window. As despondent as she felt, she had to admit that Paris was a beautiful city. In her tired mind, she vaguely remembered the flight attendant on the plane mentioning a nice bistro near the Moulin Rouge. She would have to try it sometime.
The cab ride took much longer than either of them had planned. It turned out that driving at a snail's pace through rush hour traffic in the capital city of France made you late for your hotel check-in time.
They unloaded their luggage from the cab and Alex paid the driver. Debbie watched as he took some extra time deciding how much to tip the driver. After a moment's hesitation, Alex handed over an extra 20 euro bill, which the driver accepted graciously. Once the cab had driven off, Alex turned to Debbie.
"Well that was awful," he said, his shoulders slumping. There were bags under his eyes.
"Let's just get inside," Debbie mumbled. "Come on. There's got to be a bed waiting for us."
Alex nodded. "I have a good feeling about this," he said, putting on a fake smile. "Something has to go right."
Alex was right. Something had to go right, and Debbie found that she felt hopeful that, by a stroke of luck, they would have their rooms sorted out in record time.
They made their way into the hotel lobby. The lobby was beautiful with gold touches here and there, comfortable-looking sofas, and artwork by French painters hanging on the wall. A fountain trickled somewhere nearby, adding a nice feeling of serenity to the place. Debbie felt the tension in her shoulders ease as they approached the front desk.
"Hi there," Alex said, placing his hands on the desk.
The concierge, a pretty woman with long red hair, smiled politely at him. "Bonjour, monsieur. How may I help you today?"
"There's actually a bit of a problem," Alex said. "We're late for our check-in time."
"I'm sorry to hear that, monsieur," said the concierge. "May I take your name?"
"Ambrose," he said. "Alex Ambrose. Two rooms."
The concierge typed away at her computer, then looked up at Alex with an apologetic frown. Debbie felt her stomach drop.
"I'm sorry," the concierge said. "I'm afraid that, since you did not call ahead to inform us that you would be late, we had to give away your rooms."
This was all the confirmation Debbie needed. The universe was against them. Any and all chances they had at being friends was slowly being whittled away. She mentally smacked herself. Why hadn't they thought to call ahead?
Alex groaned and hung his head.
"Do you have any available?" Debbie asked, hopefully. "We're sorry. We've had an absolute nightmare of a trip, and we just want some rest."
The concierge nodded. "I will see what I can do." She typed away on her keyboard, and her expression lit up. "Ah! I do have one room available."
Debbie and Alex exchanged a panicked glance.
Before Alex could say anything, Debbie asked, "Is there space for two people?"
"There is," said the concierge.
Relief flooded Debbie as she said, "We'll take it. Thank you so much!"
As they took their belongings up to the room, Debbie couldn't help but feel that things were finally turning around for them on this trip.
Alex scanned the keycard and they piled into the room, settling their stuff before looking around. To their horror, there was only one bed.
"This is not going to work," Debbie said.
Alex said on the bed and sighed dejectedly.
"I'd like to propose something," he said in a tired voice.
Debbie's heart stopped at the word "propose." Maybe it was her tired state, but she did not need Alex proposing to her in a bedroom with one bed while they were trying to remain friends. Her suspicions were almost confirmed when he reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
It was his wallet. He pulled out a coin.
"Heads you get the bed for the first night," he said. "Tails, I get it."
Relief flooded Debbie as she nodded.
Alex flipped the coin and caught it on the back of his hand. He looked at it for a moment, then said, "Tails." He stood up and gestured to the bed. "I'll go to the bathroom and get changed. You should get some sleep, too."
Debbie nodded. She got changed while Alex was in the bathroom, then crawled underneath the plush covers and finally fell asleep.
***
Much like Debbie, Alex didn't want anything to damage their fragile new friendship. Although he missed having her as his girlfriend, he felt they needed some time apart to really process everything that had happened, and perhaps come back together in the future.
He came out of the bathroom and smiled, seeing her fast asleep in the bed. He made a mental note to never tell her that the coin had come up heads. He grabbed an unused pillow from the bed and a spare blanket from his suitcase, then settled down on the floor to sleep.
He just hoped that the convention wouldn't be as hellish as the journey.