Life begins at the end of your comfort zone… challenges of living in a foreign place
The next two nights I spent with my friends. We ate in cafes and then retreated to Sebastian’s flat both nights. We talked about the attacks of course, but tried to distract ourselves with a little bit of wine-talk as well. I was becoming a bit upset that I had received very little contact from Benjamin. I would have preferred him to be making sure I was okay and wanting to see me again despite the turmoil. It was a disappointment as I had thought he had felt more for me.
In addition to this, my attic apartment was having problems. First it was the washer and dryer breaking, and me needing to shuffle my laundry to the laundry mat every week. Then, the floorboards were coming up, causing such a slant in the floor that I could barely open the refrigerator door. I sent pictures to the landlord and asked for it to be fixed immediately. I started looking for new apartments right away. The final straw was when the little electric toilet stopped flushing and I had to spend twenty-four hours using public restrooms and peeing in the shower. Gross! I put in my thirty-day notice and quickly starting searching on-line for a new apartment. I chalked up all the problems in the attic to a major sign I was not meant to stay living there. I was starting to realize everything takes a bit longer in France. Back in the US a plumbing issue, or floorboards popping out of the floor, probably would have been fixed that day. Not, days going by with slower than molasses responses from my landlord.
I was now experiencing many waves of discomfort since moving to France. Between the attacks, Benjamin’s behavior and my apartment having issues, I was starting to feel majorly homesick. It was during this time that I also received the following e-mail.
Hello Frenchie!!! I miss you. Unfortunately, I am in jail. The thought of you has brought me through some tough times during the past few months. I want to thank you for the thousand kisses that you have given me that I can still feel on my face, you loved me and I see that more than ever now, Its hard letting go. The last time we lost communication this long you were already dating, hope you take time for yourself. I am safe and well and working on myself. I hope this EMAIL reaches you the same.
With Love, Eddie
Well, there was my answer for not having heard from Eddie in two months. He must have been arrested for drug use or substance malplay in some capacity. Part of me was shocked reading this e-mail. He was in JAIL. I could not believe someone I had shared five years of my life with, was in jail. This was really bad and I felt very sad for Eddie. My heart went out to him in the moment of reading this message. I also knew that me moving to Paris was the best decision of my life in this moment. I needed to get away from someone that had such an addiction that they would end up in this predicament. A person, which undoubtedly would end up either on the streets or in jail. Through these realizations I still wished that I could have fixed Eddie. Wished that I could have taken this disease away from him and healed him. I decided I would not respond just yet. I almost did not want to know more details. Images of men beating each other to a bloody pulp surfaced in my head, especially after having seen the movie Shaw Shank Redemption recently. Oh my God, poor Eddie. Chills invaded my spine. I could only imagine.
At that moment I wished I had a crystal ball or a telescope to see what the mystery of Paris would bring next…