JULY 26, 2018

Lovelocked

The 78th episode of the Word Count Podcast is a special one based on the following image.

On July 13th, R.B. Wood presented the podcast live at ReaderCON 29 in Boston, Mass.

I wasn’t able to attend the conference in person, but author Bill Kirton and I collaborated on the story and recorded a video for the occasion. As with our previous efforts, we passed the baton back and forth, writing our story in four parts. Feel free to learn more about the process from a blog written by Bill.

Due to technical difficulties, the video portion did not play, but the audio is included in Richard’s comprehensive blog about the conference. If you’ve ever considered attending ReaderCON, you must read more about it here.

I’ve attached the story portion of the video below. In Richard’s audio file, there is also an introduction by Bill and other end matter. I’ve removed them due to lack of space but will save Bill’s commentary for a future post. Many thanks to JB Graphics for putting the footage together.

Hope you enjoy!

“Forever.” That’s the word Dylan chose to scribble between their initials. Maya encircled the letters with a heart, and together, they hooked the padlock onto the bridge’s railing. Not just any bridge, but the Pont des Arts in the most romantic city in the world.

Soon after meeting as strangers, Maya and Dylan became lovers. What was it about Paris that made it possible for them?

Was it the food? Dylan had intimated he wasn’t a foodie, yet they started each morning with a melt-in-the-mouth croissant and sweet jam. Over numerous cups of coffee, they watched the world go by from the sun-kissed terrace of their corner café. When not talking and laughing, Maya gazed into Dylan’s blue eyes and giggled as he rhymed off in French.

He surprised her with the love lock, which he referred to as a symbol of eternal love. After latching it in place, he dropped the key into her palm. “Toss this in the water,” he said. “and we will be forever linked.”

Maya stared at the waters of the Seine and closed her hand around the tiny piece of metal.

* * *

It was all carefully calculated, of course. Dylan didn’t see the key disappear. They kissed, but when they drew apart again, her hands were empty. Maybe she’d just let it fall into the water, but surely he’d have felt some movement. If she was playing him according to some plan of her own, she was the first one who had. The others had all been so easy. He’d taken the job – tour guide for parties of American students in Paris – because a long-time girl-friend had ditched him. For a teacher, of all things. And it hurt; left him bitter, determined to share the hurt around. He’d conned the tour company with his near-perfect French accent, and spent morning after morning that summer meeting groups of sleepy young Americans in their hotel reception areas, who obediently followed him to the Sainte-Chapelle, Notre Dame, the Louvre, and the rest.

And in each group, there’d be one girl who’d get the special treat of breakfast at Le Rostand in Saint-Germain des Prés, with its view of the Luxembourg gardens. But was this one different? Maybe she’d been ditched, too, and had her own agenda.

* * *

Maya didn’t believe in love any more than she believed in the Easter Bunny. She certainly didn’t believe in forever.

All those padlocks jostling for space on the bridge, as if anyone could lock down love. She saw nothing romantic about it, just a mess of metal. She could have easily thrown the key in the river, but she didn’t care to pollute the waters any more than they were already polluted. She had slid the key down her sleeve by the time Dylan noticed it was gone – a trick an old boyfriend taught her when they first met. He had pulled a coin out from behind her ear and made it disappear by doing the very same thing.

Men. Always trying to impress her. Her porcelain face and curvaceous body attracted them like magnets. Dylan had been a good start because he spoke French and had a few connections, but she had no interest in him beyond how he might be able to help her.

From her home town of Ketchum, Idaho, population of fewer than 3000, she had always dreamt of snagging a filthy rich man and living her life in luxury. According to something she’d read, Paris boasted the highest number of single, millionaire men per capita, and she intended to find one for herself.

* * *

The puzzled frown on Dylan’s face amused her. Hiding the key was step one. She disengaged herself from his embrace and wiggled the tips of her fingers at him, mouthing a simple “Bye” as she turned and headed back towards the Métro.

Dylan watched her disappear. The parting of her lips as she breathed the word ‘Bye’ stirred the same feelings in him that had made her his choice. Their sex really had been great. The best. But sex wasn’t love.

He felt an emptiness, a pointlessness. He kneeled by the railing and cupped his hand around their padlock. Before locking it, in the lobes of the heart she’d drawn he’d added two more words, “A’ and ‘jamais’, together the French for ‘Forever’. Now with his thumb, he rubbed out the first three letters of the English word, scratching in their place an ‘N’. When he’d also erased the ‘A’ in the left lobe, the lock read ‘Jamais’ and its English equivalent ‘Never’.