A Magical Realism Short Story Set in the Heart of Paris
I sat alone at a cast iron table that seated two outside the little patisserie in the heart of Paris. The trip was my attempt to escape a bad breakup, finding myself in unfamiliar places after four years of being one half of a couple. Movement to my left caught my eye while I tried to remember the limited French I learned when I was younger. I turned slightly, expecting to see a server there to ask for my order, instead what I saw had me doing a double take. How had I missed the vibrant pink and all the sparkles as I was sitting down?
There was a woman sitting at the edge of the sidewalk tables outside the patisserie, blonde hair flowing down her back and swooping away from her face. Pouty lips formed a mysterious smile as she gazed at the bejeweled bird sitting on the table. Or I assume she was looking at the bird—she was turned in that direction, but with the ornately filigreed sunglasses she was wearing it’s hard to tell.
The server came up just then, startling me as I realized that I had been staring, unaware of my surroundings except for this woman. “Puis-je prendre un mimosa et regarder le menu pendant une minute?” I stuttered out when I noticed a menu had been sitting on the table waiting for me.
The server left and I tried to look over the menu, but I kept glancing back at the woman. More birds started showing up. Each of them vibrant, but the coloring felt wrong. No bird I’d ever seen in person or on nature documentaries came in these vivid combinations of pink, green, and blue feathers, or even stranger, blue and pink with yellow and coral wings. I kept trying to read the menu, but when my mimosa showed up and the server was annoyed that I hadn’t even managed to look over the first page, I gave up and just requested a yogurt and granola with a croissant. Every patisserie in the city seemed to serve those items, so it felt like a safe bet.
Glancing back over, I noticed that the birds had shifted and I was able to catch a glimpse of their faces. They were all wearing sunglasses, just like the woman! Who has ever heard of such a thing, birds wearing sunglasses.
As the sun glinted off the jewels the woman was wearing, my mind wandered away, thinking about the kind of life this woman must live. I was sure that she went to wonderful parties every night, where people drank fruity drinks from small glasses and danced until dawn on newly waxed hardwood floors. There were probably always suitors lined up around the block wanting to date such a compelling woman.
My food arrived, and as I sip on my mimosa between bites of my croissant, I began to imagine my next stop. I was only in Paris another night before I headed to Barcelona. And after that, who knew?. I glanced back over to the woman sitting with the birds. No one else seemed to be staring at her, which surprised me..
Maybe for my last night in town I could be a bolder version of myself, striking up a conversation with a stranger and getting an invitation to join her on an adventure. Again, my mind wandered to bright, wild parties, with women in colorful clothes and jewels, laughing and spinning in circles as music played in the distance.
Just when I had finally worked up the nerve to walk over and speak with the woman, I looked up and the woman was gone. Where had she gone? I twisted and turned looking around but she was nowhere—not a single sparkle or feather left behind. How had she left without me noticing?
I sighed as the waiter walked up to check on me. I was fine. As he turned to walk away I stopped him and asked “Do you know the woman who was sitting down there with the birds?” pointing towards the other side of the sidewalk tables. He gave me an odd look, as though he didn’t understand my French. I tried again to describe the woman and he went pale, “No, I have no clue who you are speaking about.” He quickly turned and walked away. That seemed a little odd, but I thought nothing of it since the patisserie was busy inside.
I quickly finished my meal, paid, and then went inside to use the restroom before leaving to go about my day. As I was leaving the restroom, I turned to walk back out into the patisserie and a painting caught my eye. I stopped and stared. It was the woman, in all her bejeweled glory with her birds wearing sparkling sunglasses and all! It felt like the breath had been pulled from my lungs as moments stretched into hours. Finally, just as I was getting my wits back, the painting turned her head to look at me, tilted her face so I could see her blue eyes over her sunglasses and winked.
I decided to go out tonight instead of staying in and packing for Barcelona. Paris beckoned to me with laughter, music, and new faces to meet. Maybe I’d even run into a familiar stranger, a woman dripping in jewels with exotic birds following her everywhere.
