a couple of months ago, i changed my long distance plan from at&t to some cheap company that i found on the internet (and whose bill i have still not received). after several early morning and dinner time phone calls charged with the task of getting me back, at&t finally gave up their efforts at rationalization and decided to buy me back. the check was for one hundred dollars. spring break was approaching – and me without a dime. i accepted the pieces of silver with the intent of immediately changing back after spring break. they made me sign up for an international plan, which would give me excellent rates to france, italy and sweden on sundays.

i’ve been back from spring break for a week now, and not to my surprise, i’ve been too lazy to change my long distance back (the ingenious foundation of their marketing ploy). so, i decided to at least take advantage of this low rate to france, because i’ve been missing paris more than usual lately, and my mouth longs to form my foreign tongue. none of my friends were home, so i started looking through the old book of old numbers that i had acquired. i found this lebanese*american girl’s number who i had known. she once cooked me hummus and tabooli. i knew that she had left france around the same time that i did, but i remembered that she had this roommate named aurélie. i had only met her once, but I had acquired a little crush on her that night we met and ate lebanese food together. she did film editing and had a big tattoo and was very pretty. i always wanted to meet her again and maybe ask her on a date, but for one reason or another (boyfriends really), i never met her again. right before i left her apartment that one night, she took a photo of me, and i remember wondering if she looked at it from time to time.

all that to preface the fact that i called her. six hours difference from here to there, and i punched her code. she answered, « âllo? » i fumbled for a few seconds saying that i had known her old roommate, and that i had a good deal on international calls and that i missed making her latin words. she laughed, and said that she did indeed remember me. we talked for maybe ten or fifteen minutes until i had another call (the frenchly familiar and soothing tone of my first love). she was doing something on the internet and i foolishly gave her the address for this page knowing that i would probably write of her. she probably won’t come, and maybe even if she does, she won’t bother since it’s in english. it’s been over a year since the only time i ever saw her, and i am having difficulties recalling exactly what she looked like. but i do remember how it felt to place my cheek against hers.

on ne se connaissait même pas. je ne t’ai vue qu’une fois, et nos joues se sont embrassés. normale, je sais. mais je m’en souviens car je voulais te connaître et car je voulais que ce ne soit que nous dans la dix-huitième arrondisement ce soir-là. plus qu’un an, et j’ai pensé à toi. j’ai tappé ton code sur cette machine connective. mes mots étaient enfantines et mal formés. les tiens me chatouillaient l’oreille.