It had been three days since I'd seen her; that night after the concert, walking with her, the café and chatting until the early hours. It felt unreal - the feeling. I could breathe again, everything was brighter. I couldn't concentrate, unusual for me, and couldn't make the hours pass quickly enough. im src
Eléonore, I spoke her name in my mind so many times in those three days, aloud also if I'm totally honest, and saw her smile and sparkling eyes in my mind. I heard her laugh, sweet music, and the way she'd say my name, her accent. I sighed a lot and let my imagination run. Eléonore, I'm lost without you, or so it had seemed for these past three days.
But today I was seeing her...I was nervous.
I'd asked her that night, just before we parted. "When may I see you again? Umm, assuming you'd like to Eléonore..." My voice had trailed off, sure she would but uncertain enough to worry.
She'd smiled, perfectly, it seemed to push back the darkness, and said, "I'd love that."
We agreed to meet at the Musée de l'Orangerie in the Tuileries Garden and make the rest up as we went along; I was ok with that, I was simply pleased she'd said yes.
It was a beautiful day, cool but sunny, and as I waited I watched autumn leaves fall to the ground, a blanket of golds, browns and yellows...The breeze caught and swirled them now and then; It was beautiful and I loved this time of year in Paris.
I was early, punctuality was important to me, and besides, it would have been rude and disrespectful to make her wait on me. She was an amazing, capable woman but I'd not have wanted her to stand there alone due to my tardiness. Also, I relished the thought of that moment I saw her walking my way; something about how her hips moved, and I anticipated her smile when she saw me. My heart raced a little.
As I waited I contemplated what this was. A date? Honestly, I didn't know but I wanted it to be. Could I even call that night at the café a date? Maybe it was just a lovely moment we shared...But then she'd said yes to meeting me today so is today date number two? I contemplated the matter until...
...She walked along the tree-lined path, a bed of leaves swirling at her feet, breeze tugging gently on her hair, that smile. Looking back, I think it was right at that moment I realised my heart was lost to her. As she walked closer the words, just the way you are ran through my mind. She was perfectly unique to me...But I had to control myself...She was here.
I smiled, the lopsided grimace smirk that passed as my smile. Yes, I was trying to be charming. Hell knows if I actually was. It was right then I realised I hadn't thought this moment through. Shake hands? Hug? Cheek kiss? Fuck, I thought to myself.
I extended my hand for a shake like a fucken idiot and caught the slight upturning of her lips, she extended her hand and we shook though. I loved her hands. Small, soft, short nails. Perfect. I willed myself to concentrate.
"So formal?" Her smile touched her eyes and she tilted her head slightly sending her hair cascading down her left shoulder.
Her accent melted me, but the way she looked...She was beautiful. She stood looking at me just gazing back then flicked her eyes to my hand. Damn it! I'd forgotten the flowers. Trying to resurrect some small degree of cool-factor I held them out for her.
"For you Eléonore, you said you loved dahlias." She took the small bouquet in both hands then cradled them to her body, "oh, they're so beautiful," she exclaimed.
They were; the white, pink and lavender blooms were simply lovely.
I wanted to say, no, you're beautiful, but refrained somehow. "Yes, so very beautiful. I said simply, looking into her eyes. She smiled shyly and hugged the flowers a little closer. "Thank you, I feel special."
We stood chatting a little, catching up on the last few days and decided on a take-away coffee then a wander through the Musée de l'Orangerie - Pleasingly, she liked art and we chatted about her drawing and painting as we slowly made our way through the Musée de l'Orangerie. We sat with Claude Monet's water lilies talking softly about art, Giverny where Monet's inspiration for the paintings derived and both agreed we'd like to visit and spend some time in his garden.
Within that white oval room, surrounded by Monet's lovely works we sat and connected. She sat angled towards me on the bench, right leg crossed over left knee, both hands resting lightly on her right knee, her right foot only millimetres from my leg...She leaned forward and I found myself mirroring her; I just wanted to be closer.
In those hours the unfolding that had begun three days earlier continued. I remembered those autumn leaves outside swirling in the breeze, one almost indistinguishable from the other; that's how I felt with her. Combined.
That's when it happened...No, not our first kiss although how I wished for that moment. She glanced at her watch. I knew what that meant. I was boring her.
Ever the gentleman, despite feeling like a total idiot, I kept the conversation going for a few minutes then said, "Eléonore, it's been a few hours, I'd hate to keep you from anything. Should we move?"
She looked a little disappointed then nodded and reached for the flowers; I stood and held my hand out to help her up which she took thanking me for the courtesy. The touch of our hands together felt tantalisingly good. Her hand was cool in mine, so soft. She stood and left her hand in mine for a second or two. She looked up at me with those lovely eyes of hers and thanked me for a lovely morning, engaging conversation and the flowers.
That was that. Her hand slipped from mine and it was like the room dimmed.
We walked to the exit and when at the head of the path outside she turned to me. "Thank you," she said simply. "You are a beautiful man."
That moved me.
Her head was tilted upwards to me and I drank in her beauty as if it may be the last I might see her. Her lips were slightly parted, eyes intently upon mine. A few stray locks of hair blew across her face and I wanted to take them and tuck them behind her ear, to leave my hand there, on her cheek, to lean forward and kiss her lips.
I didn't, and the moment passed.
"Tu es une femme charmante Eléonore. Est-ce que je peux vous revoir?" My French was terrible but I tried. You are a charming woman Eléonore. May I see you again, I'd said, or at least I'd hoped it was something like that.
She smiled then and..."Yes. When?" Her eyes sparkled. I'm not the smartest man on the planet but I saw what looked to be happiness and so I thought I'd try my luck.
"Today?" I grinned.
She laughed at that. Today.
Her hand reached out and took mine, not a hand shake, a tender touch that conveyed emotion and feeling..."Yes today."
We chose Café Latéral in the 9th arrondissement where we both lived, just near the Arc Du Triomphe. I was there first of course, but she was only minutes behind.
She looked stunning. Her coat was cinched at the waist accentuating her waist and flare of her hips. We greeted, this time with a hug and we went in. I knew the owner and had arranged the best table, away from the rest, tucked in a little corner. On it was a rectangle parcel, a gift I'd arranged for Eléonore. We approached and the café-owner made a fuss over her taking her coat. All I could do was stare at her.
Stunning didn't quite cover it.
She had on a cowl-neck halter top - not too low - but it hinted somewhat. I was captivated by the hint. It was classy though, fitted just right, loose and tight in the right places. Her leather skirt reached just below her knees but was split up the left to mid-thigh. Black stockings and open-toe strappy shoes completed the look. My heart pounded.
"You're simply stunning, " I blurted.
She smiled and tilted her head. "Merci gentil monsieur, vous êtes gentil de le remarquer. C'est pour vous."
It's for me, she'd said and I smiled, took her hand and helped her sit at the intimate little table.
We sat in silence for a few moments - words didn't seem necessary - and looked at each other. I leaned forward both hands on the table, one atop the other and hers were in her lap. She sat straight, her posture pulling her blouse in all kinds of pleasing directions and...Yeah sure, I looked. I caught myself though and diverted my attention to the gift I had for her. She noticed where I'd been looking and smiled just a little, moved around unnecessarily, just a bit more than she needed to and looked directly at me. I appreciated it of course.
"I have something for you." I placed a hand on the small parcel and pushed it closer to her.
She blushed demurely, "for me?" She took it and began to unwrap it smiling when she read the title. Mad Enchantment: Claude Monet and the Painting of the Water Lilies. She had mentioned she'd like to read it earlier at the Musée de l'Orangerie.
She looked across at me with a serious but kind expression.
"You're so thoughtful. You..." She stopped to think, gather her thoughts..."You're solicitous towards me; hold the door, walk on the outside of the footpath closest to the road, make sure I'm safe and protected from harm, you listen, truly listen, and I see it all. You...Show care, the sort of genuine care that brings me deep comfort." She reached over the table and placed her hand lightly on mine and almost whispered..."Tout en toi parle à mon cœur avec beauté et mon cœur répond au tien."
Everything about you speaks to my heart with beauty and my heart responds to yours, she had said. I felt...Well, I knew I loved her.
We entwined that night, emotionally. The unfolding.
We had dark corners within, parts of us that we allowed no one to see, but we shared them and they seemed less dark and foreboding, less important. We found light and together that light seemed much easier to reach.
We ate together, shared our plates, sampling a little of everything and, yes, I dropped some on my shirt. I know right? She laughed thinking it was the funniest thing ever. C'est la vie.
She reached over the table and picked the morsel from my shirt and said, "here, don't waste it," and popped it in my mouth then licked her fingers. Being a perceptive man I took note of the expanse of her chest it revealed when she leaned. I grinned like an idiot. We had had the best time, laughed so much, cried a little and fell a little more deeply for the other.
It was midnight when we left. We walked not really knowing where we were going and as we passed the Arc Du Triomphe stopped to admire the structure, lit up as only the City of Light could. I couldn't help but hear the Edith Piaf song la Vie en Rose in my mind; it was that kind of moment.
As we stood side by side I felt a touch on my hand - cool fingers - and mine responded. Silence. No words.
Our fingers intertwined and we stood there feeling, truly together. She squeezed my hand and I turned to her. As our fingers naturally untwined and re-found each other my other raised to her face, touched her cheek lightly. She leaned into it, eyes closed slowly, relishing the touch. Her face tilted upwards to mine and as a leaned down to kiss her she opened her eyes to look directly into mine...The lights of Paris reflected in hers and I was lost to the light.
Our slightly open lips touched so lightly. Hers were soft and warm and that smallest of touches spoke volumes, but craved more - It brought sense to chaos, stopped time. It was like everything that had come before was forgotten - there was just us and the moment. She exhaled, like a release, a sharing of herself with me, and I inhaled in that same moment - we lived on the same air - and then we kissed.
We walked to my apartment, once a place of solitude and silence, a place I retreated to; my cave. That night it felt forever different. It felt like a beautiful garden, a place where I was gladly held captive, no captivated, by Eléonore, and where love blossomed into the beautiful thing we share to this moment.
I could write about that night, and have done, but it's ours alone and I'll never share it with another soul.
We had many more dates after number four...Maybe I'll even write about some. Hmm, maybe date number seven, Giverny and Claude Monet's garden, and that picnic by the stream afterwards...
[A fiction]
You can read the post that inspired this one here, called Bring me to life.
Design and create your ideal life, don't live it by default - Tomorrow isn't promised so be humble and kind
