Chloe Woodsmith had never had a boyfriend. She had never been to a drinking party, a lavish banquet hall, or, in fact, anywhere very far outside of her small hometown in the U.S. in Washington. She had never had a real job, though she had tried to get one numerous times. She had never been invited anywhere by someone outside of her family, much less someone from a different country.
What made her any different than a rock on the side of the road was made up of several rather boring facts. She was twenty one years old, she was a blond beauty, and she knew how to study and work hard. She had some friends back home, but at the moment, here in France, they seemed so far away and such abstract minorities, that she almost did not consider them a part of her life any longer. Almost, but not quite.
“I met my business person,” she typed rapidly into the textbox for her email on the computer that sat on her room’s desk. This email was already set to be forwarded to not only her own family’s account, but also to those of her two best friends, Amber Salkovitz and Kelsey Abrams. However, before she could finish and send, the dots next to each friend’s names lit up a bright neon green. They were online! How wonderful.
“Hey gal!” popped up Amber’s perky message. It was immediately followed by the romantic but obviously ecstatic chat from Kelsey: “Can it really be you, Chloe?”
“It is!” Chloe typed. “But can you believe it…oh I have so much to tell you guys!”
“Is it a man?” Kelsey questioned. Chloe paused and stared at her blinking cursor for a second. How could she have known?
“Yes!” she finally responded, unable to contain her excitement. “He invited me for dinner to the restaurant across the street! But something seems a little weird about his company…he explained it to me but I don’t know if it’s all some sort of made up lie.”
“How weird?” Amber replied, which was nearly simultaneously countered by Kelsey’s message of “Oh how romantic! A French man in France! Don’t tell me you’re considering not going!”
“Well, I don’t know,” was Chloe’s answer to both responses. “I guess I’m just kind of surprised, that’s all. And I suppose I should go, otherwise he might kick me out of the company.”
“Well, in any case, be careful,” Amber cautioned. “And keep in touch. Anything too funky happens and you come straight back home, sister, ok?”
“Yeah, we’re rooting for you. You’re our French bride to be. Keep us updated on the wedding!”
And with those very supportive and courage inducing words, both friends simultaneously signed off. Chloe was not left any more reassured than she’d been, but at least she had contacted someone from her previous life, and that felt familiar, comforting. She returned to unpacking her things, and when she was done, she sent the previously begun email to her family. She knew she would not get much support from them either, but that was why she had to make new supports here, and as fast as she could, before her new life ended with a lightning strike.