From:	misanoe@yahoo.com

This is a Paris/Tristan friendship story. Sort of. I think. It's 
early, I'm tired and slow now. Puwahahahahahaha.)

Rebirth
by: misanoe

When I was a child I loved the water. I remember sitting in my 
bathtub after it was full and shutting of the tap just barely so 
there would be a continuos stream of dripping water throughout my 
bath. It fascinated me. I could sit there for hours, dipping my hands 
in the water and watching each drop of water trickle down my arms. 
Sometimes I would lie there and float to the top of the water; I was 
flying, soaring in the air. There was something about water, so 
cleansing, so pure. 
I had just finished seventh grade my parents took me to our beach 
house during the summer. I was ecstatic. There would be the ocean to 
swim in every day, what more could I ask for? At night I asked my 
mother if I could go swimming, it was all right with her. I don't 
think she was even really paying attention to me. She was getting 
ready to go to a dinner party one of her high society friends was 
holding. For a moment I watched her, transfixed at the glittering 
jewels that were dripping from her throat as she picked up the brush 
to retouch her hair. 
"Yes, Paris. You may go." She said distractedly as she shooed me out 
of her room. 
"Are you sure?" 
"Yes, yes, just go." 
I walked outside and watched dark water move loudly under the pale 
moon. The sand felt soft underneath my feet. Flinging my towel in the 
air I joyfully ran to the water and dove into a giant wave that 
crashed into the sand. I swam farther and farther out, there was 
something about swimming at night all alone that appealed to me. The 
joy I felt when in the water was like a secret, something for me to 
keep and hide for myself. All alone. I had never been comfortable in 
the presence of others. I did best by myself. I always do. 
The waves grew stronger and stronger as the night grew darker but I 
wasn't afraid. I was an excellent swimmer and the water had always 
been my friend. I didn't expect the waves to grow so strong as to 
drag me down and choke me, but it did. I began to struggle, the salty 
water burning my throat as I opened my mouth to scream. I was 
flailing in the water and the ocean was tossing me about like a rag 
doll. There was nothing I could do, no one to save me. I nearly 
drowned that night. Somehow I managed to make it back to land. I was 
hacking up water and my eyes were burning as I crawled higher on to 
the sand to get away from the waves. I heard the sound of an engine 
and managed to raise my head up enough to see my mom's Mercedes 
pulling out of the driveway. Looking back down I let my body lie 
limply on the sand. After an hour or so of lying there in the same 
position, I got on my knees to push my body up and dragged myself to 
the house. The lights inside were dark and the door was locked. I 
didn't have a key. I almost laughed then, but instead tears made 
there ways up in my eyes. I curled up next to the door and cried 
myself to sleep. In the morning when the maid came, she silently 
unlocked the door and prodded me with her hand. Getting up I followed 
and walked upstairs to my room. I laid down in my bed in the fetal 
position and promised myself I wouldn't cry anymore. 
That was the day I started to hate my mother, my father. I began to 
take showers and stayed away from swimming pools, beaches, lakes, 
whatever. Any large body of water I wouldn't go near. I hated water, 
like I hated my life. 

It was the second week of eighth grade when Tristan kissed me. It was 
a dare I later learned, but it didn't matter to me. I had never 
really viewed Tristan as anything but a fellow student that might 
have had parents just as dysfunctional as mine. He was a person I 
took for granted, that I saw every year in the same class for most of 
my life. The day he kissed me was the day that all my love for the 
water was transferred onto him. I clung to him desperately. To live a 
child needs something to love, so I loved Tristan. The only person 
who went through any motions of caring for me. 
In the mean time I continued to hate both parents. Or maybe I didn't 
really hate them. Maybe I just loved them, and resented them for not 
returning the sentiment. Before I craved warmth and got it from the 
water, now I craved love from Tristan and well, that didn't work out. 
I know people thought I was cold and frigid. Even my parents. But I 
wasn't. I was in an environment that didn't allow me to be warm and 
loving. The only thing caring ever got me was disappointment and 
heart break. When I cared, every time I scraped my knee or had 
something I was proud to show to my parents I was disappointed, 
because they were never there. After that night I spent asleep next 
to my door, I became disillusioned. I guarded my heart with my soul 
because I knew one more heartbreak just might kill me. I wasn't cold. 
I was frightened. Tristan was a solution. A certainty. He would 
always be there, like he had always been. It was okay to love him, 
even if he didn't return the affection. His presence was the one 
thing that had never let me down. That I had come to count on. 
As the years went by it didn't matter that Tristan grew to hold me in 
disdain, or that he got with half the sophomore class of Chilton. I 
knew that he didn't care about any of them. He was like me, holding 
everyone from a shoulder's length, afraid to let anyone get to close. 
I wasn't the only disillusioned one. I wasn't the only cold one. He 
might have had a facade of a friendly face or smile but he was just 
as closed off from other people as I was. He didn't mix emotions with 
his relationships with people. That was another thing I had to count 
on, and he had never let me down until Rory. 
I didn't blame him. Who could. In a throng of snobby, superficial, 
disillusioned children she stood out like a beacon of light. She was 
the one that was loved. That had a glow and smile that said to the 
world, "Look at me. Someone loves me." She was happy, really god 
honest happy. To someone like Tristan and me, who had been closed off 
from all affection, she was so good to look at. It almost hurt the 
eyes to see how happy another person my age could be. I didn't hate 
her because Tristan was drawn to her. How could I when even I was 
drawn to her. I hated her because she was loved. Because she had 
everything that I didn't have. Because she was the antithesis for all 
I stood for. For everything I didn't want to stand for. Because I 
wanted to be her, and I wasn't. 
So I continued my life, angry, bitter. I had money. That was 
something Rory didn't have. I had lots and lots of money. My parents 
bought everything I could possibly want. But make no mistake, 
everything was paid for tenfold by me. In the value of true worth, 
the things they bought me was a drop in a bucket. What I gave them 
because of the debt I felt towards them was worth so much more. I was 
a model daughter. I didn't drink, swear, slouch, shout, talk back, or 
anything else kids my age do. I wore what my mother wanted me to 
wear, I ate what she wanted me to eat, I tied my hair back neatly the 
way I should. I was a proper young lady. A smart lady. I would go to 
Chilton because it was the best, and I was to be the best. And I was. 
But let me tell you something about being at the top. It's lonely. 
I'm alone looking down at everyone I am better then. And I wanted 
someone else to be the best, so I could step down and join the rest 
of humanity. But I couldn't. Because I owed them, and they made sure 
to remind me every chance I could get. Every step I took in Chilton 
was because of their money, their influence. Nothing was given, only 
tallied up in their minds to be used against me later on. So I never 
asked them for anything. Nothing was for free, and I barely had 
anything left to give them. I wonder if they had conversations with 
each other. "How much for Paris's soul do you think? The tuition to 
Harvard?" "Yeah, I think that would do it." And it probably would. 
No liberation, no freedom. No one to pull me out of the deep end. No 
one but myself. I had done it once, I didn't know if I had the 
strength to do it again. 

***** 

I listened to the radio this morning. There is a 90 percent chance of 
rain later on in the day. I decided to walk to school. 

***** 

"...the Prince then leaned down and kissed the princess, who awoke 
from her 100 years of slumber." 

Tristan kissed me. I don't know if he meant to or if he was dared 
again or what. Once again, I didn't care. So far I've had two 
epiphanies in my life. The first was when I almost drowned; the 
second, when Tristan kissed me for the second time. 
When he kissed me I felt nothing. I felt devoid of all emotions. It 
was then I realized that Tristan was not my redemption or key into 
the world. He was something I imagined. After several seconds I was 
the one that pulled back. And calmly I collected my things and walked 
out of the room. 
Later that day, in my empty house, I went to the bathroom with the 
biggest bathtub and drew a bath. I had a major paper due the next 
day, and had been too swamped the past week to complete it. Instead 
of doing my work though, I climbed into the enormous tub with the 
faucet barely off and let the water trickle on my hands. It was the 
first time I was fully immersed in water since that day I lost myself 
in the ocean. It was like greeting an old friend. All the anger and 
resentment I had melted away as the water gently lapped against my 
side. I laid there for hours, ignoring the way my skin was shriveling 
up in the water, and the time that steadily ticked by. 

***** 

"All right, if everyone would please hand in their papers, we can get 
started with our next assignment." The professor instructed, walking 
around as he collected a paper from each student. Everyone looked up 
when the door opened, all wondering who it was that dared to defile 
the sacred Chilton laws by arriving late. The only person it could be 
was me, and I was already here. It was Paris and I began to gawk. Her 
being late is enough out of the ordinary but her hair was loose and 
slightly awry, and she wasn't wearing her confining stiff jacket. 
"Miss Geller. I was wondering where you were." Staring straight at 
the teacher she shrugged her shoulders. "I hope you were able to 
articulate yourself clearer in your paper Miss Geller." The professor 
dryly responded as he held out his hand expectantly. 
"I don't have it." 
Everyone looked up at her in astonishment. My eyes just grew bigger. 
Paris has never, ever missed an assignment. Ever. Period. I've known 
her since kindergarten and even then she always turned in every 
single picture or math sheet. 
"And where is it?" The professor asked, his eyebrow lifted in 
disbelief. 
"I didn't finish it." 
This was getting stranger and stranger and I began to wonder who it 
was that stood up there and what she had done with the real Paris. 
"Why didn't you finish it Miss Geller?" Asked an equally astonished 
Professor, who was probably wondering if her parents had both died 
and she had been in a coma, unable to do her work. I know I was. 
"I was taking a bath." She responded in a deadtone. 
Those of us who weren't shocked began to snicker as Paris walked past 
the gaping professor and took her seat. Paris had no sense of humor. 
I was sure of that. So she was either joking or being dead serious. 
From the look of her face she was extremely serious. But to have been 
taking a bath instead of doing her paper sounded equally implausible. 
The teacher recovered and continued on with the class, trying to 
capture the attention of the class but I was a lost cause. For the 
rest of my school day I found myself staring at Paris. She seemed 
different. Less uptight, but still closed off from the rest of the 
world. She reminded me of the child she had once been. Just a less 
happier version. Looking back at the professor my mind began to drift 
back to earlier times. To our childhood. 
It was our childhood because they were intertwined. There was no use 
denying that. I had grown up with her constantly around. Not annoying 
as of eighth grade. Just there. I went to her birthday parties, she 
came to mine. Every year she would be in the same class as me. The 
one familiar face I would find every time I scanned the room in the 
beginning of the year. I began to search for that face in fourth 
grade. Just to make sure. She was happier then. She smiled more. Then 
in eighth grade she came back changed. Sullen. Angry and bossy. I was 
a kid and I didn't know what happened. I still don't. So one day I 
had went up to her and kissed her. It was a dare I told everyone 
later on. And it was, but it was something I could have easily gotten 
out of if I really didn't want to do it. I'm not sure why I did it. I 
think I just wanted her to go back to the way she was. To erase the 
dead look in her eyes and give it back the life that had once resided 
there. It didn't work. Instead of her going back to the way she was, 
she began to cling to me. And it scared me. So I began to push her 
buttons. To see what she would let me get away with. I copied from 
her, got her to do some assignments, whatever. I tried to push her so 
she would push me back, but she never did. She put up with 
everything, so I quit. I stopped asking for things because I knew she 
would willingly part with them, and that wasn't what I really wanted. 
Gradually I forgot what it was I wanted, and just held the crush she 
had on me over her head with contempt. I didn't think she would like 
me for so long. 
Yesterday I kissed her. I was bored and it was a means of 
entertainment. I wanted to play with her head, so I kissed her in an 
empty classroom while we were reviewing our notes. I thought it would 
be something I could laugh at later on. But I didn't get any response 
from her. She just left without saying anything, and me utterly 
confused. She hasn't looked at me adoringly once today. It wasn't 
because she was avoiding me because she was embarrassed or anything. 
I could tell. She knew I was staring at her. She even turned to 
around to stare straight back at me for a minute before she turned 
back around to continue her work. She just doesn't seem to care. 
When I look at her, I catch glimpses of the girl I once knew. And I 
realize that something changed for her. Like something changed for 
her before she came back to eighth grade. She's not the same anymore, 
and it seems like this Paris is going to get along fine without 
Tristan. And I really don't know how to feel about that. 

***** 

It's raining outside now and I feel a smile grow on my face. All day 
everyone had been given me curious looks or making snide comments 
when I walked into their hearing range. It didn't matter. Not that it 
ever did. The whole day was like some sort of dream, that I hadn't 
waken up from yet. And I couldn't wait to walk in the rain, to clear 
my mind. Grabbing my books and folders in my arm I take my first step 
outside of the school. The rain is pouring down heavily and students 
are scrambling around, trying to get to their cars without getting to 
wet. Slowly I began to make my way outside, ignoring the eyes that 
follow me as I continued to walk away from the parking lot. 

Chilton is in the middle of the woods. If someone were to walk to 
Chilton, it doesn't matter where they are coming from. They're going 
to have to go through the woods. So that's what I was doing. The 
leaves from the trees slowed down the rain drops, but I was still 
drenched within the time it took me to walk ten yards. I had been 
walking for thirty minutes in bliss, oblivious to the world around me 
when a car slowed down and stopped next to me. I would have continued 
without noticing if the window hadn't gone done and a person called 
my name instantly over and over. 
"Paris." 
I walked to the passenger's window. And stared blankly at Tristan. 
"Jesus Christ Paris, what are you doing?" 
I looked at him like he was retarded. What did it look like I was 
doing? "I'm walking home." I answered, stating the obvious. 
"You live three miles away." He said in disbelief. 
I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm one-third the way there." 
Leaning over he pulled on the lever that opened the passenger's door. 
I continued to stare at him blankly wondering what he was doing. 
"Paris get in the car." 
I stared at him bewildered. Why would I want to get in his car? 
"Paris, get in." 
I didn't know how to respond to that. So I looked at him, smiled so 
he knew I was all right and continued on my merry way. Slowly his car 
crept next to me and he called out my name again. He was like an 
insect I couldn't get rid of. 
"If you don't get in the car Paris I'm going to get out and carry you 
in." 
I stood there and waited to see if it was an empty threat. I swear I 
thought it was. Who would think that Tristan would get all wet for 
me? It turns out he would and as soon as I saw him open his door and 
step out I grinned. I don't know why I did it. Really I don't. But 
the next thing I did was fling my books at him and toss my backpack 
off, going off into a full sprint. What do you know he actually 
chased me. 
When I ran I felt like I was flying. The water continued to pour on 
me and I didn't even remember I was running away from someone until I 
my foot slipped on wet grass and I fell on my ass. Tristan had been 
right behind me, and was now hovering over me. 
"What's wrong with you Paris?" He nearly shouted as he looked down at 
me like I was insane. Funny, I was feeling much more sane then I've 
felt in the past three years. I looked at my three year former love 
interest thinking only of how unfair it was, that he could still look 
immaculate when he was drenched and standing in the rain. Discretely 
one of my hands closed on the mud around me and I stood up. Walking 
towards him I pulled that hand back and threw it at his chest. His 
jaw dropped and his eyes grew incredibly big. Looking at him I burst 
out in laughter. Wiping some of the hair in my face away, I ignored 
the mud I smudged on myself and ignored the fact that I probably 
looked even grungier then him and just laughed harder. His eyes 
narrowed, and without any warning he grabbed me around the waist and 
threw me over his shoulder. I was the one who was in shock now. 
"I told you I'd drag you to the car if I had to." He said. I knew him 
well. Very well. And I knew that there was a self satisfied smirk on 
his face as he continued to walk to his car, carrying me casually 
over his shoulder like a cave man. I couldn't verify that because I 
was facing his back, so I inwardly shrugged and used my muddy finger 
to draw a happy face on his back. I started laughing again to the 
indignation of Tristan, tears of mirth streaming down my face. 
When he reached his car he opened his passenger door wide open and 
flung me in. Childproofing the door so I couldn't open it, he walked 
to the other side and got in. 
The car smelled like the woods because of my wet clothes, I liked it. 
I looked down, I was getting his car dirty but Tristan didn't seem to 
notice the muddy clothes ruining his leather upholstery. Rich kids 
are like that. We don't care about our material possessions we 
destroy or dirty, we figure there's always someone else that will 
clean it up or replace it, and there is. The downside of that, we 
have no privacy. No chance to make anything ours. The moment the 
color from a shirt wears out or a pile of CD's lay awry on the floor, 
someone is there to put it back the way it should be. As if our daily 
routines in life are dirty and need to be cleaned up by someone else. 
"Is your mother home?" 
I looked up. "I don't know." There were many places she could have 
been. And although it was rare, she was known to be at the house I 
lived in on occasion. 
"Look, we'll go to my house and get you cleaned up. The maid will 
wash your clothes and when you get home, no one will have to know." 
I stared at him. He was busy concentrating on the road and the 
tension in him could be cut with a knife. Know what? I thought to 
myself. Know that her daughter just had one of the most liberating 
moments in her life. It's not like she would have cared. No wait, I 
was dirty and happy. She would have wanted to put a stop to that 
right away. I sighed. 
"Let's go." 
The rest of the car ride was silent. I don't think Tristan really 
knew what to say to me and I wasn't going to volunteer any 
conversation. I was tired of trying to start up conversations with 
him, only to be rebuffed. I looked outside the window and watched the 
trees thin. We would be at his house soon I thought as I saw a bunch 
of tall stern looking houses come into view. I remembered where he 
lived. I've been there every year for the obligatory birthday party. 
Although I never really complained. Not after seventh grade anyways. 
He pulled into his stone driveway and parked outside, not bothering 
to put his car in the garage. Opening his door and getting out, he 
walked to her side and opened the door for her. 
"Are you coming or do I have to carry you again?" 
Mustering all of my dignity, which as a mud covered girl I didn't 
have much of, I daintily stepped out of the car onto the pavement, 
ignoring the hand he offered to help me up with. 
"Let's go." Closing the car door shut he walked towards his house. 
Silently I followed him. He was right, I didn't want to go home and 
face my mother like this. She would somehow find a way to suck all 
the happiness out of this moment. So I followed, and watched him walk 
to the massive door and ring the doorbell. A maid opened the door and 
looked curiously at me, but silently stepped aside without a word to 
let Tristan and his friend inside. He walked across the floor in his 
muddy shoes, once again not bothering to take the time to take them 
off. He knew his feet marks would be gone before his parents came 
home tonight. Assuming his parents came home tonight. Opening a door 
we walked into a room that I assumed was his. It was nicely 
decorated. Kind of looked like my room. Tasteful wood furniture, 
decorator pillows in order on his decorator sheets. No personal 
touches. It definitely looked like my room. Any personal touches that 
he could have made would have been cleaned by the maid. That's how it 
was. Anything that clashed with the decor just disappeared. 
I watched Tristan quietly from the foot of his door as he walked 
towards a drawer and rummaged through his clothes. He grabbed the 
first shirt and shorts he touched and walked towards another door in 
his room, turning around to motion me to follow him. The door opened 
to reveal a bathroom. He tossed the clothes on a towel rack. 
"Here, wear these after you take a shower and leave your dirty 
clothes in the hamper. I'll tell the maid to wash them." 
I nodded. A shower sounded good right now. I stepped inside his 
bathroom and was about to close the door when I heard him silently 
call my name. I looked up to look at him and stood still as he 
studied my face. 
"What changed?" He asked, his face unreadable yet comforting just the 
same. I smiled. What changed? 
"Everything." 
He nodded and I shut the door. 

***** 

I lay on my bed and listened to the comforting sounds of the shower 
and rain. I was at a loss of words for what happened today. Contrary 
to popular belief I am a good student. I have to be if I want to get 
anywhere in the future. I wasn't going to be some washed up spoiled 
brat that was surviving on his parents money when I was forty. I 
stayed after class to review an assignment that was due the next day. 
By the time I left the classroom the school was pretty empty. Most 
kids are in and out within ten minutes. The end of school is the end 
of school and everyone has places to go, people to meet, things to 
do. Driving home in the thick rain I saw a lone bedraggled figure on 
walking on the side of the road. Normally I wouldn't give a rats ass 
and even think of stopping, but this girl was wearing a Chilton 
uniform. Curiosity overcame me and I pulled over. Lo and behold there 
was Paris walking to god knows where. 
Earlier I might have left her there, sped off without giving a damn. 
But something about the way she walked made me want to drag her in 
the car and explain herself. Tell me what had happened to change her 
so much. I called her name and she stopped after I honked my horn. 
She was out of it, but she looked enlightened. Like a load had been 
lifted off of her. It didn't surprise me that she didn't want a ride. 
It wasn't as though she didn't have her own car to drive home in. 
There must have been a reason she was walking home. But I couldn't 
let her continue. I needed to know. I don't know when I was more 
surprised. When she threw all her books to the ground without a care 
and ran, or when she threw mud at me, or when she drew that happy 
face on my back. I felt it. I knew what it was, and I heard her 
snickering. 
I wasn't as mad as I should have been when I looked down to see the 
mud trailing down in big thick clumps down my uniform. Normally I 
would have been, but she started laughing and I was in to much awe to 
remember that I should be angry. 
I've know Paris for a long time, for as long as I could remember, but 
I have never ever seen her laugh like that before. I've seen her 
smile, a real smile, and I'm one of a few who can claim to have seen 
that elusive smile. But laugh, joyfully? It was incomprehensible. 
Gone was the bitter angry girl that had an annoying crush on me. In 
her place was someone that was- happy. Really happy. And that in 
itself was the most startling thing I have ever seen. 
She was drenched, dirty, mud on her face, and standing there in front 
of me laughing. Her clothes clung to her and her hair hung in loose 
strands in front of her face. I wanted her. I really wanted her, and 
not in a sexual way. Okay, not completely in a sexual way. I wanted 
to be with her. Similar to the way I felt about her when I was a 
child, but I wasn't sure if the feeling was mutual. If this Paris I 
fondly remembered from childhood felt anything for me. My thoughts 
were getting so uncharacteristically muddled I just threw her over my 
shoulder and dragged her to the car, trying not to look at her legs. 
I child locked her in the car. I didn't want her to get away, not 
until I found out everything I needed to know. I brought her to my 
house, not just because I wanted her to