Or I will guide elderly American couples I meet in Paris. The kind who shout in frustration when the metro clerk doesn't understand them. I will live in a small hotel with bedbugs, ten francs the night. And I will be perfectly happy. I look out for the children and see them in a clump at the water's edge, examining something Samantha has found, a hermit crab perhaps.
Belle is still asleep.
I want her to wake up and see it. I am embarrassed that I am behaving like a teenager. I worry that Samantha will come back up the beach and ask what it means. Belle is still sleeping, and I am behaving like a lovestruck idiot. I look into the future and, knowing how weak I am, sense I will never leave Frieda, or live any different life than I have now.