Paris Descartes University

[The Exodus]

Part of Paris' extensive university system, the Paris Descates University is the premiere learning establishment for those studying science, social science, mathmatics or law. Its amenities-- including a library, gymnasium, and auditorium-- are open to visitors. But sometimes, it's just fun to sit and watch the harried scholars rush on by...

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

The most time consuming part about being a stage manager was, even at local playhouses, was reading the play, pouring over the heightened language of Shakespeare, tripping on the difficult names within the pages of Chekov, wrapping the mind around the abstract chaos of Shepard. Bill searched along the laden shelves of the university. The library didn’t carry Ruhl. He couldn’t fathom why, since he had heard this Ruhl block was supposed to be, like, famous or something.

But amongst the Rostand and Ruskin, Ruhl still eluded him. He glanced around for a sign, preferably glowing neon and exclaiming “you’ll find Ruhl here!”. But instead, he found a brunette. He cleared his throat and stood beside her amongst the Mamets and Millers.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, for there were pupils studying. “I’m looking for S. Ruhl… ‘The Clean House’… Ever heard of it?”

[The Exodus]

Toni Vandeleur

Toni loved the smell of books. It made her think of her father’s study back in Rotterdam, before they moved to Paris. It sent her to her earliest, fondest memories, sprawled out on the floor with him as he read to her stories from all corners of the globe and she happily traced over the words in languages she didn’t yet understand. She had come to the library, a woman on a mission, but found herself sidetracked by Yasmina Reza’s ”The God of Carnage” in its original French. She’d seen Ralph Fiennes on the West End a few years back doing the show. It had been opening night and an hour in, all the power just quit. That was live theatre for you, really, but since that night, Toni had been determined to see a proper production of Reza’s show. Thus far, she hadn’t had occasion. And if you couldn’t bring the mountain to Mohammed… You put the d*mn show up yourself. And that was exactly what Toni was thinking of doing now that she was half way through reading.

She wandered through the stacks and stacks of books, nose buried between the pages as she walked. She kept peering over the top of her book to see if there was a free nook to sit in, but luck evaded her. She finally alighted upon a ladder somewhere in the “Ms” and she tucked her book under her arm and climbed up, perching on the topmost rung. If she hooked her feet on a lower step properly, she figured she could sit up there for ages comfortably. She pulled the book out and resumed reading happily. But after ten minutes, bits of her began to go stiff and then numb. She flexed her shoulders and tried to sit through the pain.

Christ, it’s hard to think straight…

Her eyes began to wander and Reza nestled in her lap, all but forgotten. She had a birds-eye-view of the library and it was oddly entertaining. She could see students cram-studying for midterms—a few of them hers—and professors doing research on Mac laptops.

And then there was the man staring at her in the aisle.

She blinked in surprise. He didn’t look like a student; if he was, he was a graduate student and certainly not one of hers. He had a mop of curly, light brown hair and he looked frustrated, as though he’d taken yet another wrong turn in the library’s labyrinth.

“Excuse me,” he said softly. He had a pleasant British accent that made Toni smile. “I’m looking for S. Ruhl… ‘The Clean House’… Ever heard of it?”

“You mean Sarah Ruhl?” Toni asked. She stood up precariously on the ladder to climb down. “I might have heard of her once or twice.”

She placed one foot on either side of the ladder and slid down it carefully. Her boots hit the ground with a soft “thud”.

“But you aren’t going to find her. It’s midterms week and—if I know my undergrads—“The Clean House” was probably checked out for a final study session.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

“You mean Sarah Ruhl?” The woman asked from up above him. And Bill felt suddenly stricken dumb. All along, he thought the ‘S’ stood for Steve or Samuel or something masculine. Never Sarah. He wasn’t sexist or misogynistic, he just assumed she had been a bloke for… Well, Bill didn’t really know why. But he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to appear nearly as idiotic as he felt.

The ladder shook and Bill, instinctively reached out to steady it. “I might have heard of her once or twice.”

Good so she could help him.

The woman slid down and Bill stepped aside to give her room.

“But you aren’t going to find her. It’s midterms week and—if I know my undergrads—“The Clean House” was probably checked out for a final study session.”

“Bloody f*ck…” Bill murmured under his breath. This was the third place he had checked and rehearsals started next week. The situation just seemed to get more and more hopeless.

Bill took in a deep breath and counted to three.

One…

He was at his wits end.

Two…

This woman… this beautiful woman… seemed to know a lot about the books.

Three…

She referred to the book as if it was a person.

It didn’t take too much thinking for Bill to play along. “Do you know where I can find her? It’s a bit of an emergency, you see.”

[The Exodus]

Toni Vandeleur

The stranger swore softly and Toni inclined her head sympathetically. She’d been in his shoes before; who hadn’t? He took a deep breath and then: “Do you know where I can find her? It’s a bit of an emergency, you see.”

“The person or the book?” Toni asked, smiling. “If you’re looking for the author, you’ll need a plane to America. But if it’s the book you’re after…”

She bit her lower lip and paused.

“And you promise me you aren’t a student and that you’ll take good care of her, I’ll let you borrow my copy. Good plays are meant to be shared, anyways.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

“The person or the book?” Toni asked, smiling. “If you’re looking for the author, you’ll need a plane to America.” Bill fought the urge to bite his lip. He had no idea who she was talking about then; the author or the book? All he wanted was to read the play, possibly make a copy of every single page, or type up a version with the directed cuts. He didn’t need the actual author.

“But if it’s the book you’re after…”

Bill looked up with bright-eyed excitement. “Yes?” He asked, his voice not quite pleading.

“And you promise me you aren’t a student and that you’ll take good care of her, I’ll let you borrow my copy. Good plays are meant to be shared, anyways.”

Bill’s smile stretched from ear to ear. That was the best news he had had heard all day. “Thank you, miss!” he exclaimed. Students shot him and his noise level looks too dirty to be shown on BBC. “You have no idea how happy that makes me, I could just kiss you!” He stopped, shifting his weight, his voice lowering once more to a neutral level. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.” He extended a hand. “I’m William, by the way. And you are?”

[The Exodus]

Toni Vandeleur

She had a policy against lending students her books, particularly the books they needed for class. Too many precious copies of plays had walked off in someone’s messenger bag over the years, including an entire collected works of William Shakespeare two years ago. But this wasn’t one of her students; rather, he was a desperate—and quirkily cute—stranger. From the sounds of it, he’d checked as many libraries as he could think of. The city was woefully void of American playwrights, however overstuffed with American tourists it was. Toni didn’t mind parting ways with her “The Clean House” for a little while, anyways. She knew it well enough, anyhow.

“Thank you, miss!” the stranger said, grinning.

A few students looked up harshly; Toni met their gazes steadily and they looked away hastily.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, I could just kiss you!” the stranger continued. The looks were back; this time directed at them both and intrigued. Toni ignored them and laughed.

“Metaphorically speaking, of course.” He extended a hand. “I’m William, by the way. And you are?”

“Toni,” she said, taking his hand and shaking it. “A pleasure, William. Why don’t we stop by my office and get you that book?”

[The Exodus]

Toni Vandeleur

She had a policy against lending students her books, particularly the books they needed for class. Too many precious copies of plays had walked off in someone’s messenger bag over the years, including an entire collected works of William Shakespeare two years ago. But this wasn’t one of her students; rather, he was a desperate—and quirkily cute—stranger. From the sounds of it, he’d checked as many libraries as he could think of. The city was woefully void of American playwrights, however overstuffed with American tourists it was. Toni didn’t mind parting ways with her “The Clean House” for a little while, anyways. She knew it well enough, anyhow.

“Thank you, miss!” the stranger said, grinning.

A few students looked up harshly; Toni met their gazes steadily and they looked away hastily.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, I could just kiss you!” the stranger continued. The looks were back; this time directed at them both and intrigued. Toni ignored them and laughed.

“Metaphorically speaking, of course.” He extended a hand. “I’m William, by the way. And you are?”

“Toni,” she said, taking his hand and shaking it. “A pleasure, William. Why don’t we stop by my office and get you that book?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

“Toni,” she said and Bill took her hand, long and warm in his. He smiled toothily. “A pleasure, William. Why don’t we stop by my office and get you that book?”

“Yeah,” Bill said, releasing her hand with an odd reluctance. “I’d love that.”

She led him out of the library and up a tube of spirally stairs. He followed her, catching his breath steadily. Conversation would be difficult as they tackled the mountain of steps and handrails. He followed her, almost winded as he captured his breath, clutching at a stitch in his side. Either it was the smoking catching up to him or he was really out of shape. Either way, it did not in any way boost his self-confidence. He felt not only dumb and socially awkward for his mistakes and volume in the library, but unimpressive at his windedness. He could only imagine what the woman, Toni thought of him by now.

She unlocked the door to her office which was spacious and blank.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Bill managed to get out, offering up the first conversation starter since the library. “Roomy . Rent must be high.” It was a joke, of course, but Bill couldn’t help but feel like a clout as he watched his attempt at wit fall flat before it even had the chance to inflate. He could find a way to play it off as not knowing much French, or he act as if he never said anything. Either way, it would not improve the situation much.

Blimey, Bill, he thought, you’re luck Damien isn’t here to see you fail. He’d never let you live this down.

[The Exodus]

Toni Vandeleur

William followed Toni up the spiral staircase to her office. After half a flight, her lungs wished they’d taken the elevator. Edward and her mother, both doctors, were so appalled by Toni’s smoking habits and she could almost hear them give her the usual I-told-you-so with each step. She smiled through it; there was little else to be done and she didn’t want to be a wheezy wreck in front of the handsome stranger. Toni wondered why he was so keen on getting the Ruhl play anyhow. It wasn’t usually in such high demand around here; only during midterms for her American Playwrights class.

They finally reached the second floor and Toni led William down the hall and to her office—the very last one in the corridor. The window overlooked a courtyard and it was the best view on the floor. On summer days, Toni left the window open and she could hear the fountain and the bubbling chatter of summer students. A breeze would sometimes roll through, bringing with it the smells of street food and cigarette smoke both. But it was autumn now and the window was tightly sealed to keep out chill. The rest of her office was starkly white. There was an awful rule prohibiting a new paint job, which really was a shame. The shelves were lined with books—plays, all of them—which made up for the emptiness a bit.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Bill managed to get out, offering up the first conversation starter since the library. “Roomy . Rent must be high.”

Toni laughed and turned to look through her shelf.

“That’s why it’s empty; can’t afford much furniture,” she quipped back. She grinned over her shoulder at William and gestured to one of the only two chairs. “You can sit, if you want, you know.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

“That’s why it’s empty; can’t afford much furniture,” she quipped back. She grinned over her shoulder at William and gestured to one of the only two chairs. “You can sit, if you want, you know.”

Bill relaxed a bit. She seemed to appreciate his lame joke enough to toss back a nice rebuttal and what looked like the beginnings of a nice banter made him smile.

“Thank you,” Bill said, setting himself in a red plastic chair. He leaned back in it and crossed his ankle over his kneecap. “I was worried the chair might be reserved for someone else, a more expected visitor. And thanks again, Toni for letting me borrow the play.” He said, playing absently with the joint on his jaw.

“So what did you have to do get a nice place like this?” He asked in a convoluted way of inquiring what it was exactly that she did.

[The Exodus]

Toni Vandeleur

“Thank you,” said William. Toni heard the plastic chair groan slightly as he sat down. “I was worried the chair might be reserved for someone else, a more expected visitor.”

Toni was seldom in her office; only during a three hour chunk twice a week for office hours. Maybe she’d be there more often if it was decorated. But whatever the mights and maybes were, she seldom had visitors, save for a handful of students who wanted to talk about letters of recommendation or get a couple after-class pointers. Not many took advantage of Toni’s free time, which suited her just fine. It allowed for more time for days like today when a mysterious stranger crossed her path.

Save the dramatics for the stage, she chided herself, thankful William couldn’t see her grin as she searched through the shelves. He’s just a man, looking for a play.

“And thanks again, Toni for letting me borrow the play,” said William, as if on cue. She said nothing; kept looking for the play. She found it and stroked the spine before pulling it out.

“So what did you have to do get a nice place like this?” William asked.

“Ten years of university, a dissertation, and a year and a half at the Royal Shakespeare Company,” she said, turning around. She offered him the play, but found herself hoping he’d stay a little longer. “What about you? What do you do?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

“Ten years of university, a dissertation, and a year and a half at the Royal Shakespeare Company,” she said, turning around.”

Bill was thoroughly impressed. He did three years of university, and had a growing arsenal of technical theatre credits to his name, but nothing nearly as impressive as Toni’s. He felt his ego deflate and the room seemed worlds bigger than his small, seemingly insignificant self.

Bill whistled in astonishment and approval, a long, straight tone of nicotine and mint flavoured air shooting out in a focused channel.

“What about you? What do you do?”

Bill blew out a soundless sigh this time, taking the book and shuffling it round in his hands. “Nothing nearly that expanse and impressive, I’ll give you that.” Bill admitted, thumbing mindlessly through the pages, touched, handled and loved to the point of obtaining that wonderful musty yellow. He felt almost like his occupation, though the cushion for the actor’s onstage, was shadowed by the mere mention of Toni’s credentials.

He waved the book slightly, grasping it firmly in his hand. “I’ll get this back to you before opening night. I promise.”

[The Exodus]

Toni Vandeleur

Toni was curious about this stranger who she was trusting with her copy of the play. Not because he was handsome (he was) or because he was a stranger (many people were), but because he was looking for an American play in Paris and spoke with a British accent. He had gotten past the university’s security guards, which meant that he clearly wasn’t some dumb tourist who wanted to pick up a bit of light reading. He must have been some sort of theatre professional. Though what he did was hard to say. He had a face fit for the stage, but that meant next to nothing. He could just as easily be a director or producer or techie. He could even be a new professor. The last thought made Toni uneasy. Until she made tenure, new professors would always make her uncomfortable.

“Nothing nearly that expanse and impressive, I’ll give you that,” he said cryptically. He stroked the pages for a moment and then, “I’ll get this back to you before opening night. I promise.”

“What theatre do you work at?” she asked, jumping on the verbal cue and lighting up like an old-time stage marquee. “Or is it a secret?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

“What theatre do you work at? Or is it a secret?”

Bill laughed, shaking his head, his brown curls bouncing round his ears. “It’s not a secret—it’s just not a permanent thing. Currently, the Théâtre National de la Colline is putting on a French translation of ‘The Clean House’. I’m stage manager, but it’s not my theatre. Do you know it? It’s a great space, but incredibly short-handed on staff. But I tell you this,” Bill said, unimpressed by his current venue. “If you want to see a really good show,” he dropped his voice as if this was a precious secret. “Go to the Moulin Rouge. Best light design in all of Paris.” He smiled with pride and leaned back in the chair. “I mean, it’s worlds away from the RSC, mind you, but I’m quite proud of my work there.”

It hadn’t been hard to say, but it landed on his own ears as arrogant, a pompous air circulating around his words. If his ego, small is was, could inflate and speak, that was what it would say.

He wondered if it sounded that way to Toni or if he was simply imagining things. Only time and the direction their conversation headed could tell.