Paris, France

12:24 pm, Sunday. January 1901.

The Eiffel Tower still lived up to its majesty through the flurries of the winter snow. Travis Lebeaux gazed at its beauty as he sat upon the rooftop of his homely duplex apartment, resting carelessly against the covered chimney. The city entranced him--filled with so much romance and beauty. Tonight, a light smile played upon his lips, as his thoughts were none to pleasant.

The hazel-eyed thief lord scaled down the side of the building and jumped swiftly off the fire escape into the cobblestone alley. The snow crunched beneath his feet and his breath was visible in this weather. The boulevards and street lamps were all covered with a white blanket, leaving nothing but large edifices to exhibit their color. Patting down his navy blue suit, he kindly walked the streets, searching.

A loud woman stepped out from the local saloon. Her flaxen curls fell chaotically around her face, sapphire eyes glazed from a night of heavy partying. Her aquamarine evening gown soaked snow as she trudged angrily through the streets towards her home.

She dropped her gemstone clutch purse.

Travis embraced opportunity.

“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!” He scooped the purse from the snow, catching up to the woman who decided to look back, “Mademoiselle, your purse,” His eyes played innocent as he handed it back.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” She hiccupped, “My entire life was in your hands!”

“It was a pleasure,” His face floated inches above her face, so she shrunk back, disgusted, “Forgive me! Your eyes--you resemble an angel,”

She blushed slightly, “Merci beaucoup,”

“And your hair. Beautiful. I cannot understand why any man would leave you alone. Especially on a night such as this. No one should ever be alone.”

“I know--the bar said I had had enough,” She closed her eyes, shivering.

“Jolie fille! My pretty girl! You’re cold. Come hither before you catch influenza, something awful that is.”

He pulled her in close; she was intoxicated by his charm. He brushed his cheek against her skin and whispered in her ear a poem in French. He pressed his lips against hers. He left her bewildered and enchanted, now counting the francs he had just pocketed from her clutch purse.

Lille, France

9:35am, Monday. January 1901.

“No, no, no! I said the red roses, not the pink ones!” A customer in La Fleur De Lis argued with the young cashier.

“Forgive me, I must have forgotten.” The pink-haired teenager made her way to the back room once again, returning with a posy of red roses for the old man.

“Merci!” He slammed the francs on the table, leaving the shop.

“Navi,” The manager stood behind her, clearly bothered with the girl’s performance, “You seem to be forgetting more and more as the days go by--,”

“It will not happen anymore, I promise,”

He sighed, “I have heard this before, Navi Bellamont,”

“Please! I need the job,”

“If you were not a friend of the family…” He trailed off.

The unsaid words had more power than they intended.

Paris, France

9:12 pm, Monday. April 1901.

“We could take our work farther than France, Travis!” His partner in crime, Jacques, sat upon the table, his long legs stretched before him, “We could be rich and infamous!”

“It’s all about the fame for you, not survival.” Travis disregarded him once again, consuming his dinner.

“Survival? Have you seen this apartment?” He threw his hands up, “This is thriving.”

“So quick to get a swelled head,”

“At least let us travel outside of Paris,” Jacques mumbled.

Travis grinned, “Now you think like a true Confidence Trickster,”

Jacques removed a cover from a glass sugar bowl on the table and picked up a dart. Across the room was a large map glorifying France. He blindly tossed the dart.

“Where has it landed?” Travis asked.

“Somewhere called… Lille?”

Lille, France

12:00 am, Thursday. April 1901.

The one room flat was practically empty and silent, except for the sound of running water that awoke the green-eyed goddess. Her long pink hair was tied into two pigtails and she wore her black rimmed glasses along with a pink towel robe. She rushed to the sound that came from her bathroom, squeaking the bathtub knobs shut.

“Oh, no…” She looked at her pajama pants, now wet from the water she had forgotten to shut off. Drying to floor as much as she could with her robe, she went to find the mop. Passing by her greenhouse, she popped her head in to check out the plant life. She stopped to caress a fallen tiger lily, repotting it in soil a giving it a kiss. It shifted, growing its roots in its new home, “So easily adjusted.”

She went back into her room and sat on her bed. Underneath the bedside table lamp was a picture frame, “Goodnight, Mère. I miss you everyday.” Staring at her mother’s picture, she quickly remembered why she had awoken in the middle of the night. She ran to the kitchen and retrieved the mop and proceeded to clean up the mess.

10:30 am, Thursday. April 1901.

“We’ve arrived.”

The trip took well over three days by automobile, mostly for all the stops Jacques insisted upon taking. Travis impatiently stepped outside of the car and stretched, already deciding on what hotel room he should inhabit.

“I feel a little rich today,” Travis smirked.

“Ah,” Jacques faced the Inn before him.

Entering the building, Jacques suavely made his way to the front desk. Beaming at the female receptionist, he laced his hands upon the counter and gazed into her light brown eyes.

“May I help you, monsieur?” She hesitated.

“Have I seen you before?” He asked.

“No, at least, I don’t think so,”

“Maybe in a film? A beautiful heroine?”

“No,” She blushed, “I haven’t acted before,”

“No!” He chuckled, acting surprised.

“Well…I was in a play, once,” She smiled bashfully, “I was the lead,”

“I might have seen you there! So beautiful--you must have played the part of Juliet,”

“How did you know?”

“Romanesque beauty is engraved in your features, it would be hard to imagine you as the Nurse,”

She giggled girlishly.

“Ah, well, ma’am--I must be on my way,” He leaned over the desk and kissed her lightly on the cheek, “Goodnight, goodnight, parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Jacques returned to Travis, jingling a pair of keys in his hands.

2:55 pm, Friday. April 1901.

La Fleur de Lis had an incredibly slow afternoon. The last five minutes before Navi would be let off were agonizingly dragging passed her. She was in no rush, but she felt as if she were wasting her time sitting behind the counter without an assignment. In front of the shop, she tended to the flora.

2:56 pm, Friday. April 1901.

Travis left Jacques at the Inn for a breath of fresh air. Time was of the essence for him, so he barely had any to stop and smell the roses. The dirt road scuffed his new leather shoes, bought from an Italian man looking for passage back home. He put his hands in his pocket, strolling, whistling a tune he heard on the radio. When he turned his head, he saw her.

2:57 pm, Friday. April 1901.

Nearly concealed by the plants in front, she whispered softly to them as if they were her friends. She had forgotten all about time, work, and the outside world. Until someone brought her back.

“Bonjour!” Travis called.

“Do I know you, monsieur?” She stared blankly.

“No, no, just admiring your work! Did you grow all these?” He stepped closer, hands on the white picket fence.

“Most of them,” She smiled at her roses, lilies, and lilacs.

“Astounding,”

“May I help you?” She asked sternly.

“If you could be so kind as to tell me your name,”

“If you would tell me yours first,”

“Travis Lebeaux,” He put out his hand.

“Navi Bellamont,” They shook hands.

After a silence, Travis asked, “Have dinner with me tonight,”

“No, thank you,” She continued on her plants.

“Lunch with me today?”

“No,”

“Breakfast tomorrow morning, at least,” He was now irritated that his boyish charm had no effect on her.

“I will not. Good day, sir.”

Navi walked back into the shop, waving to her manager, and leaving through the back door.

12:00 pm, Monday. May 1901.

“I knew you would be working today, I brought lunch,” Travis smiled, holding a basket.

“How many times must I tell you…” She tried to recall his name, only just seeing him yesterday for what seemed like the hundredth time, “Sir--”

“Travis,”

“Travis. I will not have breakfast, lunch, or dinner with you,”

“Just this once. I promise you’ll be back safely,”

“No,”

“I will come back every day for a year if you do not agree,”

“Then I guess you’ll be waiting a year,”

“You drive a hard bargain,”

She laughed, “Slightly,”

“Ah! Finally I hear your beautiful laughter!”

She blushed a little, “Nothing spectacular,”

“Au contraire, mon cheri, it means the world to me,”

She walked back into the shop, without another word to Travis. He huffed, another day wasted, not completely comprehending why he was stuck on such a beautiful girl who rejected him when so many others fell at his feet.

“Planning to leave without me?” Navi asked.

Travis turned, “So, you decided to give me a shot,”

“I was hungry,” She shrugged.

He grinned, tilting his head, “I know the perfect spot.”

The sun beat down rigorously on the freshly cut grass of the small park ten minutes from the shop. The two sat upon a blanket; picnicking, laughing, and playing as if they were friends for years.

“Pass me a drink, Navi,”

She went into the basket, but stopped to look at him after two minutes of searching, “What was it that you wanted again?”

He chuckled, “A drink,”

“Oh, right,”

“Now, Navi--tell me,” He smiled his million dollar smile, “How is it that a beautiful girl such as yourself works in such a place as that? With your looks you could work the silver screen,”

She laughed, “There’s only one problem with that,”

“What would that be, exactly?”

“All that money!”

“How is that a problem!”

“Greed could drive a man to insanity and solitude,”

“Or make him the happiest man alive,”

“But what is money when you cease to exist?” She debated, “As humans time is so precious,”

“Time is money,”

“No, time is life,” She stated, “We should be living life while we still have it, cherish it, and remember it,”

“Why are you so against wealth?”

“Why are you so against time and life?”

“I just believe it’s better to make as much as you can as fast as you can and relax later,”

“That’s unhealthy.”

They sat in silence, sipping their drinks. Navi stared at the sky, her pink hair swooshed in the wind, and her jade eyes mocked the grass. Travis could not help but stare at her--wondering what could be bothering her so, what she could be hiding.

“Flowers wither and die, sometimes even if you take the best care of them, they still die,” She still stared up at the blue sky, “But unlike flowers, we might not have someone who watches over us every season. So we must take care of ourselves, but remember the beauty and fragility we both possess,” Her eyes flickered down, “Forgive me,”

“No need, Navi Bellamont,” He stared in awe, but shook it off quickly. I cannot be in love.

“I must be off…” She tried to recall his name once more.

“Travis,” He added.

“…Travis, yes, Travis. I had a wonderful day,”

Paris, France

11:34 pm, Friday. October 1903.

The note was simple:

Navi, my love, my world beyond words.

Meet me where we first picnicked.

I have something incredibly important to ask of you.

--Travis.

But its simplicity is what petrified Navi the most. She had only months before recited to him the same story her mother had told her about her birth. About her own condition.

In her mother’s words, the story was this, “Once upon a time, there was a woman who wanted the most beautiful flower in all northern France. She prayed every night to the Lord, hoping, wishing, and wanting her prayers to be heard and answered. One night, that woman became a mother to the most beautiful little girl in all of France. But, as all flowers do, the little girl began to wilt. Not in features, but in memory. But the little girl was still beautiful, doing her best to keep up with her mother, who was her one connection to recollection.”

Navi added to her story, “But the little girl’s mother soon died of illness, refusal to eat, and her own belief that the Lord will provide. The young girl did her best to remember it all. But every day something is lost and every day she inches closer to complete ignorance.”

Climbing the short hill just below the picnic area, she spotted Travis. But he was not alone. Before him stood a stunning, young woman with blonde hair curled up and dark brown eyes. Slender, tall thing--with a blood red evening gown and red, red lips. She hovered over him, close enough that Navi felt as if they would kiss at any moment. Travis stood still, but the woman flirted on. Navi just watched as…what was his name again? Why am I here for him again?…stood before the woman, clutching her arm now.

“You promised!” The woman hissed, “I let you have the two grand for it!”

“Enough, Guinevere,” Travis declared, his eyes traveling around, then catching sight of the absentminded Navi, who turned away, “No, Navi, wait!”

“I should have known. You were always about money no matter what the cost or who the woman…” She trailed off, “Who are you again!”

“Travis! Navi, Travis!”

“How did we meet!” She clutched the note he wrote, yelling, angry, forgetting.

“You were sixteen! I was nineteen! Love at first sight!”

She began to sprint now, “I don’t believe you!” She ran towards the apartment they both shared, the only home she then remembered.

Travis stopped in his tracks, panting. The woman was a nothing, no one. Navi barely remembered who she was anymore, let alone his explanation about how he bought the ring by conning this woman--who knew she was being conned--and how he wanted to marry Navi.

2:00 am, Saturday. October 1903.

Navi was fast asleep when Travis finished his long walk and returned home. Their apartment was not as luxurious as he wanted it to be, but it fit for the both of them. He remembered promising to her he would get a real job and earn his money, but his get-rich-quick and carefree attitude suggested otherwise, causing him to get into this trouble in the first place.

The doll had one of her arms hanging off the bed while the other was silently tucked under her tear-stained cheek. Her pink hair was a mess with fallen leaves. Below her arm was her mother’s picture. Travis picked it up, wiping it with his sleeve. He laid down next to Navi, hugging her around the waist.

00:00, Unknown. Unknown.

Where am I? Who’s house is this? Who is this man? Who is the woman in that picture?

I stood up quickly, knocking down things from the beside table and stirring awake the man that had laid next to me. Frightened, I picked up the nearest thing I could find--which was a lamp.

“Navi, what’s the matter with you?” He asked groggily, “Go back to bed, mon cheri,”

“Mon cheri?!” I asked, bewildered, “Do I know you!”

He sat up, “It’s me, Travis,”

He told me his name, as if I would remember this stranger. I took another step back, any farther and I would be inside the closet, cornered.

“Navi, calm down, it’s me,” He stood up, his hands before him as I waved around the lamp.

“Not until you get out and leave me alone!”

“But Navi--!”

“Get out!”

“Don’t you remember me?”

I threw the lamp, shattering it to glittering pieces, but missing him completely, “No!”

With that, he packed up and left. Who was that guy