Larel looked across at Ron. Her husband. He was chewing on a hunk of parisian bread with sincere appreciation. "It's just -" he caught himself, she knew, before he said fucking awesome - and continued, smiling "- awesome." He was clean-cut. Athletic. Loyal.
"This cheese, this cheese is awesome. Have you tried this soft cheese? With the bread?"
What did she see in this guy? They were in a textbook-cute cafe in Paris. They were in Paris for the second of two weeks. On their honeymoon.
So many couples coming to Paris to make everything perfect in the world for a fortnight. She wondered if all that pressure of expectation caused a greater rate of blowups? Or was there understood to be a ceasefire for the duration, like a muslim holiday?
She pulled off a corner crust and wiped it in the cheese, making sure some stuck. Popped it in her mouth. "Yup! Awesome!" she chirped. He gave her a look.
"What?"
What did she see in this guy? He was a sweetheart, but how could she spend her life with him? And what exactly was this, cold feet for procrastinators? But seriously: could she spend the rest of her life with him?
He was culturally hopeless. His overall impression of the Lourve? "That place was HUGE." Yesterday they had spent all day there, and his most insightful reaction to any given masterpiece of art was awe not at the piece itself, but at how long it must have taken the artist to "do that." Twice he expressed relief at the invention of the camera, to make things so much easier for everybody. Apart from that, he listened appreciatively to everything she explained, and laughed unselfconsciously at her vicious eviscerations of the various pieces on exhibit. Occasionally after she'd been particularly savage to some poor dead master's minor work, he'd lodge a mild, smiling protest: "I'm sure that's accurate and all, but it's still pretty." And his amused eyes said the same thing about her.
What had she been thinking? What had attracted her to him in the first place?
She liked that he looked like a quarterback but had played lacrosse. She liked his self-assured way of dealing with any situation. They had great sexual chemistry - and not only that, but the sex wasn't bad either! But how had she managed to get through two and a half years without realizing what a lunk he was?
He wasn't unintelligent! On the whole he was a quiet, deep thinker; no genius certainly (like she was! ha ha) but capable of surprising leaps and sharp observations in any number of his fields of interest: contract law, science fiction plotlines, the vicissitudes of his favorite pro sports franchises, even politics and world affairs. But in terms of art or culture, hopeless!
A sudden realization occurred to her: that the reason she hadn't noticed this before was that her own daily life was fairly bereft of art and culture. In her private time she might read, or look something up, but there was an almost entire absence of culture from her real life, from her activities, and it was certainly not a part of the things they did together.
But so what? Art and culture are useless relics in today's world! She had a certain disdain for them, she could admit that. But it was an educated disdain. You have to know what something is before you can disdain it. You can't just not care! That's cheating.
He was looking at her still. Grinning. "Hey Lar, wanna go back to that museum again today, if your feet are up to it? If we do nothing else and extend our trip another 2 weeks, we can probably see the whole thing!"
She laughed. Tried some more of the cheese.
It was awesome.
What had she been thinking? What had attracted her to him in the first place?
She liked that he looked like a quarterback but had played lacrosse. She liked his self-assured way of dealing with any situation. They had great sexual chemistry - and not only that, but the sex wasn't bad either! But how had she managed to get through two and a half years without realizing what a lunk he was?
He wasn't unintelligent! On the whole he was a quiet, deep thinker; no genius certainly (like she was! ha ha) but capable of surprising leaps and sharp observations in any number of his fields of interest: contract law, science fiction plotlines, the vicissitudes of his favorite pro sports franchises, even politics and world affairs. But in terms of art or culture, hopeless!
A sudden realization occurred to her: that the reason she hadn't noticed this before was that her own daily life was fairly bereft of art and culture. In her private time she might read, or look something up, but there was an almost entire absence of culture from her real life, from her activities, and it was certainly not a part of the things they did together.
But so what? Art and culture are useless relics in today's world! She had a certain disdain for them, she could admit that. But it was an educated disdain. You have to know what something is before you can disdain it. You can't just not care! That's cheating.
He was looking at her still. Grinning. "Hey Lar, wanna go back to that museum again today, if your feet are up to it? If we do nothing else and extend our trip another 2 weeks, we can probably see the whole thing!"
She laughed. Tried some more of the cheese.
It was awesome.
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