Look back and smile of perils past/Paris 3

You need to spend time crawling alone

through shadows

to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun..

( Shaun Hick)

I m in this empty plain room, not very big, with these two women, one short and overweight, one tall but slimmer. The tall one didn't speak much, is the short one who looks at me curiously, makes sure the door is locked and goes on to assure me everything will be fine. I hear kindness in her voice. She as well can see I have been crying and I m quite in distress. She goes on and asks me to pull my clothes up so she can see my belly  properly. My baby moves and she smiles How many weeks? she asks.  Almost 40 I say. Her eyes widens and I can tell she believes me. But she tells me she also needs to do a search on me and asks me to undress completely. It wasn't cold, but can't stop shaking. There s nothing to be found. I told them I threw my Romanian passport in some garbage bin in the city....nothing about the man I have met in the airport the day before.  But I do have more than two hundred pounds on me and she asks me where do I have the money from. I explain that I was sent money by Western Union by my brother in law from London. I put my clothes back on and everything I had is returned to me. We walk back together to the main office, where the same man that I talked to earlier, and seems to be the boss in this office has a short chat with the kind woman. She goes on and confirms that I may say the truth, I can probably have my baby any day now. The man explains to me that I ll be waiting for a while to see what decision will be made about me. I can't help myself crying again Please let me go, I am about to loose my plain, I only want to get to London where my husband is.  He tells me in a calm voice you cannot fly to London, or back home. You have no traveling documents, and if you had, its illegal for you to fly, in your condition. He's amazed at my story on how I managed to board the plane back in Bucharest. 

They removed my shoelaces, once again placed everything from my pockets in a manila envelope and put me in room with the front wall made of bars with four single beds. Two or maybe three people seemed to be sleeping on their beds, their backs at me, they did not move when I was placed inside.I did not like that and  I did not want to sit down on any of those beds. And my legs were hurting. Luckily I was taken out less than an hour later. They drove me outside the airport with the same van and they told me I am free to go. One of them gave me the envelope. I was disoriented , tired, upset and did not know what to do. I don't remember how I knew to say to a taxi driver that pulled next to me, to get back to the same hotel. I guess I must have had a card from the hotel in my wallet. But thats what I did. I asked once again for a room, avoiding curious glances from the receptionist, grateful they did have a room to give me. They asked me how long will I stay, which I had no idea, tried to explain I m waiting for someone here in Paris, and I ll let them know tomorrow morning. He seemed happy with that. 

I just sat on the bed and cried. I did not know what else to do.... I felt helpless and tried to tell myself I ll be fine, but I did not see or knew how. What will happen to me? I needed to call London straight away They must be waiting for me at the airport in London. I need to let them know. 

These were some of my worst days in my life, not the first, not the last. Against the fact that I enjoyed the streets of Paris, and I went and bought anything I wanted to eat. I liked the poulet au rotissoire (chicken rotisserie) and the huge grapes from the fruits and vegetable stands, got these every day. I tried some of the cheeses, I always loved cheese.  Two doors down near the hotel there was a police station. I usually came out of my room twice a day...some of the officers seemed to recognize me and would say bonjour to me. I was very tempted to walk in thinking they might help me somehow. Now I know they could not. The weather continued to be beautiful and there was a river five minutes from the hotel.. One day, when I just sat on a bench and looked at the water, with the sun in my face, a man stopped and talked to me. He wouldn't walk away. He told me I m beautiful. I walked away from him because he made me feel uneasy, thats when he probably noticed I m pregnant and did not follow me.

R kept saying just be patient,"pustoaico" (his name for me- something between a jail bait and chick)  I ll send someone come get you. I called twice a day, some day more.  I trusted him but there were times when desperation took over and I'd fight with him over the phone, tell him I don't believe him.

And than, when I returned to my room, after eating, all I did I picked at my face, squeezed every tiny spot I could see or feel.  In those few very long days, I managed to look like I had some very bad skin condition. I was embarrassed to face people downstairs at the reception or anyone else when I walked out . But I also could not stop. I remember the looks on my brother and sister in law 'faces when I eventually got to meet them. They've seen me in photographs but I sure looked far from my pretty self than. R was quite shocked too. I tried to explain to him. The stress just got me out of control. It will be something I ll struggle with for years to come. I d constantly pick my spots after a fight or at the end of a bad day, just before going to bed, in the bathroom mirror. More than than, I would touch my face and scratch it without even being aware I m doing it, while watching TV. I guess I did that too in my hotel room in Paris. I remember buying my first bottle of foundation to try  cover the scars. But nothing managed to cover them, I wasn't as good at covering it up as I was at destroying my skin. For years after, throughout my painful breakup, I continued to scar my face almost every day. I thank God now the scars are gone. God must love me very much cause my skin healed. And eventually so did my soul.