Somewhere Beyond the Subway

by Ana Clara Mansur Carvalho (Brazil)

I didn't expect to find France

My lovelife, as well as the ones from those around me, were preposterous for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t, for the love of everything you hold dear, be capable to name one friend that had a sane love life. So, I guess you wouldn’t be surprised if I say that I wasn’t very excited to pass a Valentine’s Day season alone in Paris, the city of cancan, traffic jams, protests and romantic getaways. And well… Love was never much my thing. I actually tried out the “parisian romance” with a local boy, and we did the whole package. From picnics overlooking the Eiffel Tower, to sharing a box of fancy macarons at the borders of the Seine. The sweets were even the type that came in the colored sixteen pieces boxes and although they taste like heaven they are also pricey like hell. We even went as far as putting a padlock engraved with our initials in the front of the Sacré Coeur. Long story short, it didn’t finish up well, he dumped me after saying that he decided to never see me again. So, love in that city lasts until it chooses not to anymore. It got me grumpy. While strolling down the Luxembourg Gardens I couldn’t help but throwing a evil laugh to all the couples living their lives that never wore none of my business. “He’s just going to dump you, why even bother?” I would say in my wicked voice at the back of my mind. And I would do that while weirdly staring at them from one of the green metal chairs that you can pick in front of the French Senate (by the way, the view of the flowers and the palace of Catherine de Médici is truly amazing even if you are too busy acting like a cartoon villain to other people). And then things changed. In that night the rain were falling like the pitch black sky itself would fall down on my head. Obviously it were also cold. When I got to my subway station, also known as Pigalle, I cursed the world for being in the cold. It were one clock in the morning and in Paris, at weekends, the public transport works until two among the dawn. So, on the bright side, I had no particular risk of being forced to go back home walking. But it were freezing nonetheless. I were alone at the station, at least I thought I was. They were in two, a man and a woman. Hugged up, hiding behind some orange plastic chairs, they were lying on the floor on the arms of each other. They were dressed in rags and the smell of urine were in the air. I am not going to romanticize and say that everything was well because at least they had each other, but I had the impression that things were last horrible because they were going through it together. The lady opened her eyes for a moment and noticed that she had all the blanket for herself, she stretched up the fabric so it would cover the man as well. He woke up with the movement and when got a notice of what she was doing he cuddled her up like a burrito and hugged her even more tightly while leaning a bit to kiss her on the cheek. I didn’t get to hear what they were talking and I wouldn’t dare to, they were so deprived of all. I wasn't very keen to the idea of violating their privacy one minute further. But I won’t forget what I saw, the smile on their lips were heartwarming. At the end, I still don’t know the first thing about romantic love. But if I did, I’m sure that it is something like that, being together and taking care of each other. Something else from fancy pastries and long walks, but more in the way of not abandoning each other no matter how tough things get. And that was love, away from the lights of Paris they were together. When no one was watching, apart from sincerely yours, they were still there by each other’s side.