A girl graduates with honors from an art institute in the USA and travels to France using a gift certificate. The very first meeting marks the beginning of a new life. The romance of a French town captivates the soul and heart of the young, impressionable girl. But what lies behind the guy’s silence about his affairs? Will they be together? And will the French romance continue?

“Your ticket,” a nice girl at the counter says, handing over the precious item that opens the door to a new life.
“Thank you so much,” Lana replies, sharing her happy smile. She successfully completes the check-in for her flight.
“Enjoy your flight,” a friendly flight attendant wishes her with a smile at the plane entrance.
“Thank you,” Lana says, still smiling as she boards among the first passengers. She calmly takes a seat by the window. It’s a habit; she always asks for a window seat, no matter where she goes—bus, train, and now, a plane. She gazes out at the airport’s long runways. How many millions of take-offs and landings have occurred here over the airport’s long existence?
      Her favorite music plays in her headphones. Just before leaving the house, she’d saved a week’s worth of songs, specifically curated for the trip, onto her phone. The selection was difficult. Each song was a struggle; she had to carefully filter out any that might spoil her mood. She already misses her parents a little, even though she was just hugging them with teary eyes a few minutes ago. It feels slightly strange. She wouldn’t call her parents exemplary. Phrases and events from the past echo in her mind.
“Lana needs a new school uniform,” her mother quietly asks. “Last year’s is worn out.”
“I don’t have money for a new uniform!” her father sharply declares.
“The uniform doesn’t cost much more than your liquor,” Lana’s mother riskily reminds him. “You can skip one day of drinking, and the problem will be solved.”
“I’m already giving her an education!” her father proudly boasts after another glass. “So I have the right to drink more than anyone! And I’m in my own house! I do as I see fit! And I spend my money on what I want!” yes, her parents helped their daughter get an education. But that help significantly loses its value when Lana remembers what she went through. The eternal parental quarrels, the lack of attention, love, simple affection, the deprivation of everything the girl deserved, all in favor of her father’s daily drinking. “And why are you looking at me like that, you ungrateful girl?!” the painful beatings in the evenings hurt the most.
“Jessica is having roasted duck with apples tonight,” Lana whispers, looking out the window while her mother sets the table.
“We used to have a dinner like that once,” Lucy recalls with a sad smile.
“And what’s wrong with having potatoes for dinner?” Ray protests, walking into the kitchen unexpectedly. “Whoever isn’t hungry can leave the kitchen.”
“We were just talking,” his unhappy wife defends herself.
“I know your ’talking’!” sparks of malice appear in his drunken gaze.
      When other normal families sat down for dinner, in their family, it was like a horror movie; a prolonged, predictable argument would start after sunset, inevitably ending in bruises, scrapes, and bitter tears. Instead of the necessary happy child’s shouts and infectious laughter, the house was rocked by blows and running tears. The roar of her father’s voice crushed the sensitive child’s mind. Lana often went to bed hungry. Not because there was no food in the house, but simply because she didn’t want any. She practically never had an appetite. She wanted to quietly die in her small bed, not to see or endure any of it. She wasn’t lucky in her modest, sorrowful wish. Morning came again and again, filled with the heavy residue of the previous day.
“How long are you going to sleep? Get to work!” her father, irritated by a headache, delivered a fresh portion of hurtful and undeserved phrases to his wife and daughter every morning.
“I can’t take this anymore!” Lucy’s patience ran out; she was fed up with her husband’s terrible behavior.
“What is it you can’t take?” her husband perceived every phrase as a threat.
“I’m tired of all this!” for the first time, Lucy loudly and clearly voiced her discontent. That’s when the girl realized she was losing her mother.
“And what are you going to do?” Ray inquired sarcastically and smugly.
“There’s only one solution. I’m leaving you!” the woman rushed for the exit with nothing, not even having packed her things.
“Mommy, don’t go,” Lana whispered through tears, holding her mother’s hand. “Everything will only get worse.”
“I’m sorry, daughter. I’ll either leave, or I’ll die here. And don’t worry, everything will work out,” her mother tried to calm her daughter, but they both knew it was a lie.
“Good! Get out!” the already drunk father proudly shouted at his leaving wife. The door slammed shut, leaving the father and daughter alone.
      Lucy left for Peter, a respectable man, a colleague from work, heartlessly abandoning little Lana to face the perpetually drunk and enraged monster her father had become in her eyes. She looks at him the same way now but tries not to show how she feels. Things like this stay with you for life. It’s easy to leave a bad impression, especially in a child’s memory; it’s impossible to fix later. Lana cried out all her tears in childhood; she never cries anymore, no matter what happens. That’s why the little tears at the airport today surprised her so much. She must be sad to be leaving Dayton.
“Why is it taking so long?! Can’t you make dinner yourself?” her drunk and angry father shouted.
“I’m trying, please forgive me.” The girl was exhausted after every hard day.
“Try harder!” another round of nitpicking was accompanied by another round of drinking.
      Before her mother left, everything seemed awful. Then the girl realized things could be worse. Ray started drinking even more. He lashed out at his little daughter more often. It turned out it could be more frequent. Now she got it for two, taking her mother’s place. Her father’s alcohol-worn body began to fail.
“Hello. I’m sorry to bother you, but my father is doing badly again,” Lana frequently called an ambulance to save her father from a low and shameful alcoholic death.
“Don’t worry, Lana, we’ll be there soon,” the paramedics knew the troubled house. They came in with a sad smile, looking at the weeping Lana. “We’ll help your daddy now. And everything will be alright,” they tried to cheer up the sensitive girl. They understood that in such a situation, it was impossible to lift spirits with a smile. “That’s it. We gave him an injection; now your daddy will sleep soundly and recover. And this is for you,” the paramedics often treated the girl to tasty cough and mood-lifting lozenges.
“Thank you,” Lana smiled through her small tears. The doctors left, and she was alone again among the nightmares. The main character of the terrible series relived the same scenes every day. She believed that the black streak in her family would end someday. She turned out to be right. A white streak began. Not exactly white, of course—more of a crooked gray line.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” one day, her father’s heart failed. He hadn’t yet managed to drink himself into unconsciousness, as usual. He felt the intense, life-threatening pain very clearly.
“I…“ Ray, unable to say anything, simply held his breath, fearing that any inhale might be his last.
“Don’t worry, Lana, everything’s fine. Why don’t you go play in the yard? The girls are waiting for you,” the familiar nurse gently suggested.
“Okay,” the girl herself couldn’t stand such scenes anymore. She simply left the house.
“We’ll sort things out here,” the paramedics said more sternly, looking at the dying Ray. Luckily for him, the medics arrived in time and saved the slow suicide.
“Why are you leaving?” Peter openly wondered, baffled.
“Lana is growing up,” Lucy argued with something few men would understand. The poor, long-suffering girl had just turned thirteen. The beginning of a new difficult period in the girl’s awful life. Lucy knew her daughter needed her during such a special time for a developing, forming young woman.
“And you’re ready to go back to that nightmare?” Peter was still surprised.
“Things are a little simpler now,” after that incident, the father of the now grown-up Lana quit drinking. Learning that Ray had stopped drinking, Lucy thought about it a lot, had her doubts, but eventually returned home. Her husband walked around like a guilty dog, head down, unable to look his wife in the eye. Lucy couldn’t look her daughter in the eye either, having left without a second thought, abandoning the little girl alone with the monster for seven long years. She had done the worst thing possible.
“Here, take this, girl,” the neighbors always spoke to Lana with genuine kindness, helping during the difficult time.
“Thank you all so much,” Lana cherished everyone as family, considering them her one big family.
“We all pitched in a little,” mostly, the kind people brought food.
“I hope this fits you; everything is practically new. Kids grow fast; they don’t have time to wear things out. If it fits, wear it, don’t be shy,” those who had children the girl’s age brought clothes.
“Thank you. These are such beautiful things,” the girl was always genuinely happy about the new items.
“And you’re ready for school,” the whole neighborhood chipped in to get Lana ready for school. They bought pens, notebooks, and textbooks. The girl didn’t look rich, but she looked respectable.
“What if they tease me at school?” sometimes, the girl still remembered the harsh realities of life, where cruelty abounds, especially from children.
“Let them just try!” her neighborhood friends always supported and defended her, despite the material and emotional situation in her family.
“I am infinitely grateful to all of you.” The love for one’s hometown lies in the close people. Farewell tears are dedicated to them.
“Now we can afford a little more,” Lucy started bringing in more money after returning home. Her boss knew the family’s situation well and gave her a raise.
“And I have a decent salary, too,” Ray found a job as an electrician at the local factory.
“Here, take this, for our Lana’s studies,” the neighbors didn’t stop helping, secretly paying for Lana’s education.
“That’s exactly the right amount,” the woman at the bank counter happily announces, counting the deposited money. “People have been bringing small amounts all morning,” this was the little secret behind the girl’s high school education. Lana got into institute honestly and completely on her own merit.
“Thank you all so much!” the neighbors remained her true extended family. She said goodbye to each one separately. She hugged and kissed them like the dearest people in the world. “I wish I could take all of you on my trip!” she strongly wanted to repay them for their help and support.
“Then a whole plane wouldn’t be enough, and you only have one ticket,” her friends and loved ones answered with a laugh.
“Hurry up,” Lana whispers, looking out the window. She is doing her best not to show the inexpressible delight of the trip, or the whole institute would flip out. All of Dayton would learn about the girl’s great happiness.
“Please turn off all electronic devices,” the slender flight attendant approaches. With a friendly smile, she asks Lana to turn off her perfectly selected music.
“Yes, of course,” Lana says, smiling back as she turns off her favorite song. She returns to reality. The cabin is completely full. She is sitting on the plane now and can’t believe her immense good fortune. She still doesn’t fully grasp the incredible turn in her stagnant, dead-end life.
“Esteemed passengers, please listen to the safety instructions,” the flight attendants routinely conduct the briefing for the passengers.
“Please fasten your seatbelts,” another flight attendant checks if all the belts are fastened.
“Goodbye,” Lana whispers, looking at the airport building.
“Esteemed passengers, this is your captain speaking. We are beginning our taxi and are leaving the airport of the beautiful city of Dayton. Scenic France awaits us all. Have a pleasant journey.” The plane smoothly gains speed. The runway slides past her eyes so quickly that it seems the flight has already begun. They aren’t flying through the sky but across the ground itself. A jolt, and the plane confidently lifts into the air.
      Lana feels her own wings, lighter than air and whiter than clouds, growing. The girl is leaving her hated life behind. The difficult past, with its small patches of light, gradually fades. Ahead lies only a tempting, unknown future.

      Voluminous, rolling clouds settle in the porthole for the entire flight, occasionally allowing a view of the home planet from the unprecedented height. Yes, there’s a little sadness in the soul, no one argues with that. Yet, joy and lightness prevail throughout the body. The stark landscapes of the huge country give way to the massive, uniform expanse of the ocean.
      The only variety here lies in the shades of the element, from tender blue to an intense blue-black, like ink. The girl had once spilled such ink as a child, soaking the light-colored carpet which then had to be thrown away. Lana always loved the ocean, though she had never seen it up close. She yearned to go every year, but she never managed to reach a sandy coast. She loved it, yet was afraid of it deep down. The danger lurking within the depths of the element simultaneously attracts and frightens the inquisitive, young, and energetic girl.
      Now, she is closer than ever to what she desires. It seems she could reach out and touch the water, feel the refreshing dampness, despite the thousands of meters below. Lana would have walked the miles across land. She wouldn’t have needed any transportation, just a comfortable pair of shoes. Since childhood, she has loved to walk long distances. She used to sneak out of the house at night for a stroll, to be alone with herself and get a good rest from another difficult day, in every sense of the word.
      She eagerly anticipates frequent walks in picturesque places. The plane shakes a little. The passengers tense up. Some clutch the armrests with fingers hardened by fear. But not Lana. Happy travelers don’t fear turbulence. The girl notices nothing bad during the long, exhausting flight across the ocean. The noisy passengers in the seats nearby, the shaking of the plane, the slight coolness by the window. Everything now brings her only joy.
      A man about seventy years old sits next to the girl; his hair looks remarkably like clumps of unpicked cotton. He is flying home, joyful, looking at a family photo. He has a large family. Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. He also looks separately at a worn black-and-white photograph of his once-young wife. He smiles with tears in his eyes. Lana worries the entire time that the man might be overcome by the intensity of his emotions.
      Behind the sensitive passenger sits a young girl, a little younger than Lana. She’s learning French from a phrasebook, silently moving her lips, and at the same time reading a study outline with underlined definitions and complex formulas. Clearly, she’s an exchange student. Though, what difference does it make? If she thinks about every one of the two hundred-plus people on the plane, she won’t have time to enjoy the flight.
      The passengers in the neighboring seats held the firefly’s attention for only a short time. It is much more interesting to observe the beauty of the world from the height than to look at ordinary people whom she can examine at any moment on the ground. Maybe they have a rich life story, an interesting future, and a fulfilling present, but for Lana, they are merely temporary fellow travelers whom she will forget as soon as she descends the steep gangway after her first flight.
“Would you like anything?” the flight attendant walks gracefully through the cabin like a model on a narrow runway, offering snacks and drinks. Lana has lost her appetite from happiness.
“Orange juice, please,” Lana agrees so as not to leave the flight attendant’s polite offer unanswered. Her neighbors boldly take full sets. They are doing the right thing for practical reasons; it’s not a short journey. The monotonous drone of the powerful engines lulls Lana to sleep and plunges her into a deep slumber with a smile on her face.
      Early morning, a path along a mirror-like lake. The spring freshness awakens a good mood for the whole day. What could be better than an invigorating morning jog amid the peaceful silence? The trees are asleep, gently wrapped in the remnants of the mist. The sun is only about to rise, yet Lana’s sneakers are already making a path beneath her strong, beautiful legs.
      Light, easy movements add enjoyment to the morning. The feelings from her sporty youth in school remain in the girl’s body and memory forever. There are no thoughts at all. Complete freedom of mind. She simply runs, enjoying the quiet spring morning. In moments like these, she wishes the morning would never end. It seems it will always be like this.
      She turns her ankle. She loses her balance, almost falling. She holds herself up with effort. The world shakes and swims before her eyes. Beams of light impudently pierce the peacefulness of sleep. Not the dawn, but the momentary slumber. Lana wakes up from the landing gear touching the runway. She yawns, carefully restraining herself and covering her mouth with a neat palm. Rubbing her eyes, she looks into the oval, slightly fogged-up porthole. The long-awaited airship port.
      Lana holds back a joyful smile; she doesn’t want to look like an ecstatic simpleton. Her body is eager to leave, but she has to wait. That’s reality. To get what you want, you have to wait patiently, especially if you can’t influence the events taking place. The fragile girl definitely won’t be able to force her way through the living corridor to the exit. A couple of minutes is nothing compared to the long years of waiting for this happy moment. The plane stops. The seat belt sign goes out. She can unbuckle the belt, in which Lana noticed no safety whatsoever.
“Dear passengers, we have landed at an international airport in France,” the captain says in a tired voice. “Thank you all for the pleasant company on the journey. Have a nice day.” The passengers sluggishly retrieve their small carry-on luggage from the overhead compartments, slowly moving toward the exit, clearing a path for those following.
      Only the seventy-year-old emotional man and Lana hurry. He is rushing to his family; she is eager to taste a new life. To breathe the air of freedom. She grabs her backpack and heads with the living stream out of the plane toward the baggage claim. A special bus, obediently waiting for everyone by the gangway glistening in the sun, transports the passengers to the airport building.
      After a few minutes of driving, the arriving passengers enter the airport building. A second bus delivers the rest of the travelers. The baggage carousel is empty and still. A noticeable tension appears in the room. Passengers, thoroughly tired from the nine-hour flight, begin to worry and fret about their luggage. Their legs are tired, and there aren’t enough seats for everyone. The first quiet murmurs of discontent can be heard. Lana is unaffected by the situation. The girl stands calmly to the side, patiently waiting for her beloved suitcase to appear.
      The scaly ribbon lazily moves past the gathered onlookers. The large, black, and endlessly long snake stubbornly crawls forward. The passengers move closer. The first suitcases appear from the wide rubber strips at the exit. Five minutes pass without joy for Lana. Ten minutes bring a slight disappointment. Fifteen minutes become a mild sadness. At the twenty-seventh minute, the joy of reuniting with her luggage illuminates the girl.
      The lilac suitcase with the stamp of her distant home state is in her hands. She rushes toward the coveted exit. Her step quickens with every second. The wheels of the suitcase roll faster and faster across the clean, shiny, light-colored floor. If Lana hadn’t needed her clothes, she would have dropped the suitcase right there, without a second thought, and run without looking back.

      The airport’s automatic doors open onto the new life Lana has dreamed of since childhood. Without pausing at the exit, the girl heads toward the local taxi stand. The French sun warmly greets the traveler with a comforting embrace. A good sign, promising pleasant moments ahead. On the way to the parking lot, a young man about her age appears.
“Miss! Where do you need to go?” the guy asks in flawless English with a kind smile, holding a worn set of keys with a red oval keychain.
“Far,” Lana offers a restrained, dry smile in return, not wanting to make an enemy of the first person she meets. She continues to look out for local cab drivers.
“How far?” the young man asks, persistent.
“You certainly wouldn’t know the name,” she quips almost involuntarily, without looking at the bothersome young man.
“What’s with the bias, miss?” the guy playfully complains. “If someone’s American, does that mean they don’t know cities or how to drive in France?”
“You’re American?” Lana is pleasantly surprised, looking at him as if he were a long-lost friend. “Why didn’t you say so right away?”
“And you didn’t guess right away?” the young man grins.
“I guessed, but now I know for sure,” Lana’s tone softens as she talks to the persistent guy.
“That’s good. Where do you need to go? Or should I guess until your distrust of me and your suspicions about my driving skills on French soil disappear?”
“Solyè, have you heard of it?” Lana turns fully toward him.
“You won’t believe it!” the guy laughs. “I’m heading right there!”
“You’re teasing me!” the girl smiles timidly, narrowing her eyes in disbelief.
“I don’t joke about such serious things,” her compatriot declares, almost seriously. “Ready to go?” he smiles again, enticing her toward the journey.
“You aren’t, by any chance, a maniac?” Lana asks, half-jokingly, becoming wary.
“Let that be a little surprise for you,” the guy smiles slyly.
“Fine,” Lana watches him warily. After a moment, she completely forgets her caution and walks straight behind him. “At least tell me your name,” she asks politely, catching up.
“Sean,” the quick-footed, hurrying guy replies, turning back for a moment.
“Nice to meet you. Lana,” she stops, extending her hand while looking at the guy’s back. “I didn’t think my first meeting in France would be with an American.”
“It’s quite a surprise for me too,” Sean feels the expectation of a handshake behind him. He steps over, gently and smilingly shakes the girl’s delicate hand. He immediately remembers France, leans down, and kisses the soft, pale skin closer to her fingers. The girl tries not to show her pleasant embarrassment. However, notes of hidden shyness are revealed to the guy’s attentive gaze.
“We can go,” Lana smiles modestly, encouraging him to get going.
“Maybe we can skip the formalities?” Sean’s forward proposal sounds.
“I’d love to!” Lana doesn’t even realize that her tone of voice reveals a liking for her new acquaintance. She immediately feels shy. Sean notices and smiles secretly, hiding a slight grin so as not to embarrass the sweet girl even more.
“There she is!” the guy genuinely exclaims.
“Who’s ’she’?” the girl peers in the direction of the American’s gaze, expecting to see a friend or girlfriend, feeling a sharp pang of unexplained jealousy.
“My dear Sandy,” Sean approaches a used car with no discernible make or model signs visible on the darkened, long-faded paint.
“You named her?” Lana is surprised by this unfamiliar notion. She is quietly relieved that there won’t be another female passenger.
“Of course! A car is the best friend a man or woman can have, for anyone who knows what they’re doing,” Sean explains enthusiastically. “For many, it’s their one true love.”
“Yes, you’re right. Some people love their cars more than people. And they’re right to,” she whispers, looking over Sandy.
“It’s not even just that. Some people have no one else but their car, so all their love and affection goes to the iron heart, and it’s mutual, too. Although machines can have different personalities.”
“I agree with that, too. Not the worst option,” Lana recalls all the heartache and pain experienced by the heroes in the novels she read during her long years at the institute.
“In those people’s case, it’s the best,” Sean lovingly strokes Sandy’s faded red body, almost kissing it. If she wasn’t so dusty, he would definitely do it, without being shy around his new acquaintance.
“Do you really need to go to Solyè?” Lana can’t believe the coincidence.
“Actually, no,” Sean drawls.
“What do you mean, no?” the girl stops abruptly. Her first instinct is to walk away from this strange man.
“I didn’t know where to go, and then I saw an American. The decision came to me right away,” Sean tries to explain the unsettling oddity as clearly and gently as possible.
“How did you know I was American?” Lana interrupts, stopping her impulse to flee.
“The sticker on your suitcase,” the guy smiles calmly.
“Oh, right,” Lana feels foolish. “Why did you decide to go to Solyè? Didn’t you have other options?”
“I didn’t know which city to pick. I trusted chance. You helped,” he elaborates on the story of his choice.
“You crossed the Atlantic Ocean, flew to France, without knowing exactly where you were going?” Lana is astonished by the young man’s adventurous spirit. She shudders, imagining what it would be like if she were in his place.
“My friends and I arranged to meet here. No one showed up,” Sean sadly admits that he no longer has friends.
“Why didn’t they come if you agreed to meet?” Lana quietly probes.
“They all suddenly had urgent things come up. Families, jobs, houses.”
“I understand,” Lana whispers, having seen people’s plans fall apart for the same reasons. “How did your beloved car end up here?”
“She’s not mine,” the guy admits.
“Not yours? But you just said,” Lana feels a fresh surge of apprehension at the news.
“I mean, not beloved,” Sean pauses for a second. “Yet,” he adds, quickly correcting himself. “I bought her today. Now she’s my dear one.”
“The way you treat her, I thought you’d been together for a long time,” the shifts in mood around Sean strongly affect the girl’s emotional state.
“Cars love affection and warmth,” the guy strokes the car’s roof, philosophizing. “You have to treat them well from the first minute; then you’ll have fewer problems with them. And it’s more pleasant to drive.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Lana quietly approaches the passenger door.
“A car?” Sean clarifies with a smile.
“No, a real girlfriend,” Lana smiles shyly, looking away toward the spot where angry local taxi drivers are watching them.
“Oh, a girlfriend!” the guy yells out happily, almost nervously. “No girlfriend for a long time. Kind of never had one,” he rubs the back of his head in embarrassment, shifting his gaze in the same direction.
“How so?” Lana looks at him uncomprehendingly.
“I don’t even know how to explain,” Sean ponders, flustered.
“Okay, let’s drop it,” the girl decides not to torment the guy with personal questions he apparently doesn’t know the answer to, or thinks it’s better to keep silent about. “We need to go.”
“You tell me first if you have someone or not? And then we’ll drop it,” the guy tries to seize a fleeting chance to find out the detail he is curious about so he won’t have to agonize over guessing later.
“I don’t have anyone,” Lana is secretly glad that she can answer exactly like that. Sean is even happier to hear the answer. He steps closer.
“Please step aboard our comfortable limousine,” he proudly opens the car door.
“Thank you,” Lana nods gratefully, settling onto the soft, albeit old, passenger seat, covered with a barely visible layer of dust, like all of Sandy’s interior.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Sean replies, closing the misaligned door. “Just don’t mind it—no one’s ever ridden in the passenger seat with me before.”
“It’s fine,” the girl reassures him, returning to the excitement of the journey.

I am not urging anyone to do anything.

All events and characters are fictional.

Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

I sincerely apologize if I have offended anyone.

Highly Recommended Age: 18+

The author bears no responsibility for the reader's perception of the book.