On the Far Side of Darkness (18 page)

“
Petite
, if I told you the stupid things I did when I was your age we’d be here all night and until at least noon tomorrow.”

For the first time she acts like the girl she is and giggles. The young are so resilient.

I stand, drawing her up. “Let’s go. Train station. We can arrange for you to get home.”

“I can’t,” she stammers as we start out of the alley, “can’t afford something like that. Even if I sold everything I own, it’s not enough.” She looks at the limp heap that beat her. “It’s all at his place, anyway.”

“As I said, leave that to me. In a case like this it’s best to leave everything behind. Trust me, I’ve had to run at times in my existence.”

We’re now on the sidewalk and I hail a cab. The driver asks, “Where to?” when we climb in He’s Algerian so I tell him, “Saint Lazare Station please,” in Arabic. “
D’accord
,” he replies with a smile and sets off.

My charge clings tight the whole trip. There’s no passion involved. I’m simply the first person who’s been kind to her in a while.

We arrive and I pay off the cabby. I make sure to give a good tip. He most likely has a family to look after.

As we head for the ticket counter we attract a few looks. Paris is hardly an inhibited city but the two of us, she her age and me mine, apparently cross a line or two. I don’t care, let people make wrong guesses.

It only takes a few minutes to get the young lady a ticket. There’s a train leaving shortly. As I hand it to her, her eyes grow teary and she tells me, “
Merci,
” in a nearly inaudible voice.

“
De rien
,” I tell her. “One more thing though.” There’s a cash machine nearby. It doesn’t allow me to take out all the money I want but there are a number of machines here and I use them. After the short tour is done I hand the young lady 5,000 Euros.

Her brown eyes go wide in shock. “I, I couldn’t,” she stutters, “I can’t. I don’t know how to pay you back.”

“This isn’t a loan. It’s freedom. With this, you won’t have to make bad choices. You can stop and think.”

She looks at me. I can read in her face that she isn’t sure how to react, if she can trust me, what I might want in return. I make sure that all I show is what I want; for her to be free for a while until she can make her own life.

The young woman ponders for a moment more then reaches out, takes my gift and places it in her purse. Again, she thanks me in a voice so quiet even something like me can hardly hear it.

“We’d better go,” I tell her while wiping an errant tear from her cheek, “you’ll miss your train.”

They’re boarding when we reach the platform. I turn to her and spread my arms. She steps into them so that we share a hug for a long moment.

I release her and my charge steps back. I like the way the sweet girl looks now, happy and unafraid.

“Good bye,
petite
. Live a good life.”

Her face takes on a new expression and hardens in determination. The next second she darts her head forward, goes on tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I will.
Merci
.” At that she turns and heads to the nearest car door. Before she finishes mounting the steps, she pauses, turns to wave.

I wave back, smiling, pleased with her.

She disappears into the train.

Shortly, a huff of air comes and the train begins to move. I watch but I don’t see the young woman again.

A smile is plastered on my face. For once I’ve done some good. I’ve needed to take little advantage of my nature. The only person hurt wasn’t badly and deserved it. I wish I had more nights like this.

Merde!
I look at the platform clock. It reads 12:10 AM.

That makes me roll my eyes in frustration. The world working the way it does the time means I may have missed Diane. Of course the night she arrives will be the one where I’ve allowed myself to be distracted.

It’s difficult to keep myself reined in as I race through the station. However, throwing people out of the way like small kittens would probably not be a good idea.

I climb into a cab, direct him to
Le Fin
. The driver must read my mood for he hurries more than a little. He lets me off in front of my café. Blindly, I shove some money at him for my supposition is correct.

Diane sits at the table I had occupied before I was drawn away. Her back is to the street. With her elbows set on the table, her face is buried in her hands and her slumped shoulders I cannot mistake her physical state. My love is exhausted in heart, body and soul.

There is a twinge of pain in my chest at that realization. I rush over to the table, and pull up short, a couple of steps away from her. I am, to my surprise, frightened. Without intending to I’ve played with her emotions again. How she’ll react I do not know but I fear it will be with anger and disdain. It’s several long seconds before I manage to I square my shoulders and speak.

“
Bonsoir, ma cheri. Comment-allez vous?
”

Diane’s head snaps up, and that’s all for what seems like an eternity.

I don’t move. I won’t until I’m sure.

She sets her hands on the table and draws a deep breath. The next moment she stands, shoving her chair back. It almost hits me. After letting her breath out, Diane draws another deep one. She turns to face me.

Mon amour, je suis tellement désolé! My love, I’m so sorry!
My heart, unbeating and cold though it is, almost breaks at the sight of her.

Her once bright eyes are nearly empty now. There are more lines on her face. They show that she has carried a great burden of pain and loneliness. Her mouth, those sweet lips, once wore an easy smile. Now they support a loose grimace.

We stare at each other for a protracted instant. Then her face changes.

The emptiness vanishes and her eyes glisten with tears. Her new lines smooth, disappear. Her mouth pulls up, the corners drawing into the beginning of a smile. But her lips tremble.

Then our arms are wrapped around each other.

I can feel her heart hammering. I hope she doesn’t notice that mine is silent. But it would if it could. That familiar warmth envelops me.

“Georges,” she whispers, “don’t ever do that again. I couldn’t bear that you left me.”

“I won’t,” I tell her. I hope it’s true.

We hold together for several minutes, making up for the time we’ve been apart. Finally we pull away and look at each other. Although the marks still show, my Diane is back. Once again I feel as I did when we were together, almost like a man.

“I don’t blame you for leaving,” she starts, “after what I did…”

I interrupt by placing a finger on her lips. “My going had nothing to do with that.”

She grows puzzled. Her eyes frown a question.

Before she can speak that question, I go on. “That’s one of many things we must discuss.”

Diane nods. “Now?” is the query she makes instead.

“No. Not tonight, not tomorrow night. Two nights from now. We set that night aside. We’ll need all of it.”

“Always at night,” she smiles. “You don’t change, do you Georges?”

“That’s one of the things we’ll talk about.”

“So what’s for tonight?” she inquires.

“Dinner,” I tell her. My hand takes her hand to lead her to the sidewalk where I hail a taxi. The destination I give the cabbie makes her glance at me in the mirror. I nod a confirmation.

It’s a ten minute drive. The smell of the river is strong when we exit our vehicle. The building we’re in front of is three stories high, brick construction and with curtained windows. Wedged between a boutique and a bookstore it’s not apparent what purpose it serves. We climb the short flight of stairs and a discreet brass plaque informs us that we’re standing at the entrance to
Le Restaurant du Carl
. I reach forward, turn the knob and open the door. Smiling, I wave Diane in then follow her inside.

We’re standing in a small, well appointed foyer. None of the furniture or hangings are excessive but to someone who knows, they are the best. It’s the perfect entrance. The atmosphere is quiet and comfortable.

The maitre d’ is standing next to a small podium. His eyes light up and a smile forms at the sight of us.. “Ah,
Monsieur
Belleveau. I see your guest has finally arrived.”

“She has, Phillipe. I trust all is ready.”

“It is,” he replies, and brings his attention to bear on Diane. “
Enchantez, Mademoiselle
. It’s rare for our patron to bring a guest. We shall endeavor to make your meal a very special one indeed.”

My lovely lady colors at that. She reaches out to take my arm, huddles close. Her eyes grow worried and her mouth forms a moue of uncertainty. Diane brushes her hair with her free hand, smoothing it.

I lean over and give her forehead a gentle kiss. “Here, you’re always welcome. Don’t worry about how you appear.”

“Exactly,
Mademoiselle
,” interjects our greeter. “Your presence is glorious. It enhances our establishment.”

Diane colors again. Her smile comes back and she squeezes my arm.

“This way, please,” we’re directed and we follow the maitre d’ into the main restaurant.

Despite being nearly one in the morning the place is busy. There are fifteen tables here and ten are occupied. Mostly couples, they speak in low voices, smile at each other. The wait staff bustles about in an efficient manner without intruding on the patrons.

We’re led to a set of stairs. Up them we go, past a landing and then up some more to a door. Our guide opens it, steps out and holds it for us. Diane and I step through it.

She gasps at the sight. We’re on a small balcony at the back of the building. A stretch of the Seine flows past us, just on the other side of the road running beneath the railing. The lights of small boats drift past and they twinkle on the buildings on the far bank. My home city lives up to its nickname.

There is a small table with a damask tablecloth on it. Fine cutlery and china are set for us and two candles flicker in a holder in the centre.

Diane lets go of my arm and she walks to the rail at the edge of our dining area. No, she trips lightly. Her body speaks of the wonder filling her. She places her hands on the railing and draws a deep breath, standing very straight as she does. Releasing it, she relaxes and all the tension that had filled her leaves.

I step up behind her wrapping an arm over her shoulder and across her chest. “Do you like it,
cheri
?”

In answer she turns to me. Her hands take my face and she pulls it to her. My love kisses me hard and deep.

I do the same. Drawing her close we show each other how much we care.

Diane pulls back, her eyes glittering at me in the way I remember so well. “Thank you, Georges.” She turns her head to look at the view. “This is a wonderful welcome back present.”

“
De rien, cheri.
”

Her eyes return to mine and sharpen. I recognize that look. Her very quick mind is getting to work.

“When the man at the front desk called you ‘patron’ he wasn’t just referring to you as a customer, was he?”

“No,” I reply.

“You own this place, Georges?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re wealthier than I thought, aren’t you?”

“Very much so.”

She puzzles for a second. “Why didn’t you mention it? Were you afraid I would turn into a gold digger if I knew?”

“I didn’t mention because I don’t give a damn about my wealth. It’s handy to have but it doesn’t define me.”

Diane smiles. “That’s what I thought. You don’t care at all about what’s outside, just what’s inside.”

I smile back. “Not entirely true. I also care about what happens because of what’s inside.” That’s a deeper statement than she knows.

She laughs. “That’s right. You and Sartre are good buddies.”

We frequented the same cafes for a while. That hardly makes us ‘buddies’,
is the thought that goes through my mind. But I smile at Diane. Although she doesn’t know what I am, she knows who I am. that is much more important.

A quiet cough breaks in on us. We break apart and turn to face the source of it. The small dark haired lady is the
sommeliére
here.

“I beg your pardon,
Monsieur
Belleveau, but here’s the wine you requested.”

“
Merci
, Marie.”

I take Diane’s hand and walk her to the table. After I pull out a chair for her, she seats herself in it and I place myself across from her.

Diane picks up her wine glass and raises it. The
sommeliére
steps up to pour a finger’s worth of red liquid into it. My lovely woman goes through the ritual, sniffing, then sipping. “Oh God,” she gasps.

I’m pleased. I remember wine, good wine, even after all these years. That my love appreciates it warms me.