Hidden in Paris by Corine Gantz

waved his hands impatiently, the piece of paper still between his fingers. “You can’t keep coming here week after week to watch us watch TV. You’ve got to stop spending your weekends walking your mom around town, sweetheart. Our life is what it is,” he chuckled unhappily. “We sure messed that up real good. But yours....”
    “Oh, Dad, don’t.”
    He gave her a stern look and handed her the piece of paper. Althea unfolded it with great difficulty, which had nothing to do with her hands or her brain function and everything to do with the chance she might suddenly become unable to hide her despair. It was a check for one hundred and fifty dollars.
    “That should cover the airplane, no?” he asked anxiously.
    She couldn’t look at him. When she finally did, she saw his eyes were as wet as hers. She gave him a hug and only said, “Thanks, Dad, I think I’ll do that.”
    “Now, go pack. Don’t look back, she might catch you!” Henry added with a nervous laugh.
    Althea put the check into her wallet, arranged her clean and folded clothes into her bag, and said goodbye. She walked home for an hour in the frigid night, but she did not feel the cold this time as thoughts of Paris buzzed through her mind.

    Lola’s heart was pounding. She locked her bedroom door even though Mark would be in Atlanta for several more days. She dug deep into the drawer, tossing lingerie to the side and removed a large brown envelope. She sat on her bed trying to calm the shaking of her hands;
I’m breathing in
, and spread out the contents on the white silk comforter. The sound of her heartbeat seemed to resonate against the cathedral ceiling of the all-white bedroom. She inspected the contents of the envelope for a long time, trying to absorb its meaning, incredulous for having gone this far. Had she tried to stand, her knees wouldn’t have supported her. Three tickets. Three passports.
    She had given the nanny and the housekeeper the day off so she could pack. Tomorrow, the taxi would be here to pick them up at 6:00
AM
. In the cab, she’d tell Simon and Lia that they were going on a surprise vacation. On a school day? She had to lie to Lia. She couldn’t take a chance. She was being duplicitous, lying to her own daughter, stealing her. But is taking what is yours stealing?
    Three weeks ago, Lola didn’t question her life, like the worm not questioning being stuck at the end of a fishing hook. Nor did she really question the validity of Mark’s criticism of everything she did. Three weeks ago, she had only ached to become who Mark needed her to be. And then, almost overnight, she stopped being able to tolerate any of it.
    She had to keep her momentum because she had a tendency to forgive, to see the good side of people over the bad. For the last few days, every bit of Lola’s energy had been spent pretending everything was as usual and planning the trip. The stars were aligning nicely. The end of January was the time for traveling abroad. Her astrologer assured her that she would not get such a perfect planet alignment again until 2022. Things were all pointing in the same direction. It didn’t even feel like she was actually making decisions. But all the while it didn’t seem quite real either. She was going through the motions, accomplishing a little more towards her unfathomable goal every day.
    The passports were still good since their trip to Mexico. Mexico. That was in August, five months ago. She and the children had been so sick amidst the coconut trees and the warm ocean breeze. They’d suffered from terrible stomach problems, except for Mark, who was never sick and who’d had a wonderful time going deep sea fishing every day. She took care of the kids while her own sickness had sent her to the bathroom every hour for days. She’d lost weight to the point of being emaciated. Mark came back with a glorious tan.
    Going to France couldn’t possibly be any more difficult. In fact, without Mark sending everyone into a