In the summer, nearly the whole country is on vacation. Most Parisiens leave for the month and travel. Some stay because the city is quiet and calm. It feels deserted. I almost traveled but was stricken by migraines every time I planned to go.
Last night was kind of a fustercluck. Laëtitia and I have been planning to go to le Maxim’s together on a date. We have been seeing each other regularly for the last few weeks.
Daniella and I have been seeing each other for several months, but we only see each other once or twice a month. Daniella and I have not even spoken since before I met Laëtitia. I assumed Daniella had forgotten about me. Daniella and I have gone together to Maxim’s several times before.
At the last minute, Daniella asked me to take her to Maxim’s. I told her three times that I am busy that night. Daniella finally said she is going to the club anyway. This club is popular.
This week, there is a heatwave. My flat was 100 degrees, and I have been hugging ice packs to try to cool down. Yesterday when I finally went outside, I picked up a box of neomorphine tablets from the pharmacy for my migraine, and went to le Maxim’s club. It was early, and nobody was there. Laëtitia would arrive two hours later.
Maxim’s is one of the most famous restaurants and clubs in Paris. It opened in 1893 and is decorated in the style of Art Nouveau and has a Belle Epoch ambiance. The colors are warm, and there is a lot of woodwork carved in arabesques with floral and woodland motifs. Huge mirrors and paintings cover the walls. Many of the seats are covered in red velvet.
I went back outside to a park on the tip of the island and walked along a path under the trees. The park was crowded with people talking, musicians, lovers, stoners, gypsies, drunks, and pushers. I found an empty bench looking across the river.
I pulled out my notebook and began working on my novel. I’ve been writing this thing for 4 years now, and I work on it every chance I get. It was very hot outside. I was soaked with sweat, but at least it was cooler here by the river. I wrote for a few minutes and started worrying about my migraine which was building. I already had the migraine aura with some visual disturbances that looked like they belonged in a Medieval religious painting. I popped some neomorphine tablets out of their blister packs and swallowed a handful with a swig of tepid tea from a thermos. I made a little picnic and ate a madellien. Several honey bees found me, buzzed around, and kept landing on my hands while I typed.
I wrote for an hour, ignoring the bees crawling on my hands while I typed on my folding keyboard. Just then, some rats ran out over my feet squeaking furiously. It was too hot for shoes - I was wearing sandals, and their little paws tickled my feet. They had come out of the bushes behind me. I went back to typing, and suddenly Odette was standing in front of me.
I have never written about Odette because I didn't think I would see her again. Odette is tall, thin, and athletic. Only in America does ‘athletic’ mean ‘thick, beer-swilling, rugby player looking girl’ when used to describe a girl. In France, it means she is tall, thin, has toned muscles, and graceful. An athletic French girl looks like a tall ballet dancer or track and field runner. She has long black hair. She is from Normandy and is Jewish which is uncommon in Paris. Normandy is in France, of course, and I am wary of French women.
I stood and kissed her cheeks. “Hello Odette, you look beautiful. How are you? It’s been a long time”
“We need to talk,” Odette said. “You are going to Maxim's and so am I. We will be seeing each other at the book club too.”
She sat beside me. I don’t know how she knew this or even that I was at the park, and I did not want to ask. I suspect she has some psychic ability and hides it. She had never been to the club or even this park.
Odette and I met at a book club and spent a lot of time together last January. After our sixth outing, I had considered her a friend and was starting to have a crush on her. I was planning to ask her to do something romantic and make a pass at her. It took a while because things had ended with another girl a couple weeks earlier, and I felt shell shocked.
Had she not abruptly sent me a barrage of angry text messages that evening in January, I would have. She called me a cad and said I had been rude to her. I had never made any advances at her and thought we were becoming close friends. I told her I thought I had been very nice to her and asked her what I had done wrong. Why was she upset? She responded by saying that I should know and that I’m the nastiest person she has ever seen and that I should know what I did. I told her I was sorry for doing it, even though I had no idea what it was. Please tell me. She responded by blocking my phone number and messages from my email address. I had not had heard from her since then.
The honey bees buzzing around her made her nervous, and I shooed them away from her. Just then, yet another girl, Tatyana, a Russian expat who works at the fashion house Chanel, strolled past our bench. Tatyana was dressed like she was going to the club as well. I ducked behind Odette. Tatyana did not see me. Odette noticed me ducking, and I said that was Tatyana and I met her at the club a few months ago.
Odette and I talked for another hour. Couples were dancing the waltz on the opposite bank of the river to old fashioned accordion music. I was afraid to talk about what happened with Odette six months ago. She is French, and I knew I had violated some kind of protocol, but had no idea what. I did not want to upset her. Instead, we talked about what we had been reading. I have avoided the book club since January and there was a lot to catch up.
Eventually we went into the club but together. The line was long. I was wearing sandals because it was too hot for shoes or boots. I was worried the doorman wouldn’t let me in because they were against the dress code. We bought drinks, and I saw my date Laëtitia who was watching me and Odette. By the expression on her face, I suspected Laëtitia had seen me and Odette come in and order drinks together. I started to sweat.
I have never been the object of the attention of more than one woman and consider myself lucky when even one shows any interest.
I introduced Laëtitia and Odette. The three of us talked together for another hour. Odette and Laëtitia realized they had been born in the same village in Normandy. They had seen many of the same things growing up and had probably seen each other as children. They exchanged phone numbers.
Laëtitia excused herself, and Odette pulled me away to the back of the room. She can be persuasive. Laëtitia came back from the toilet, but she had a sticky a Brazilian jiu jitsu dude named Daniel trailing her.
Daniella (who had asked me to go to the club with her yesterday after I had already committed to Laëtitia) finally arrived. I had already told her I was going with somebody else so I wasn’t worried.
I introduced Daniella to Laëtitia (my date), Daniel (the Brazilian who was behaving as though he believed Laëtitia was his date), and Odette (who realized I was with Laëtitia but still kept trying to get me to sneak away with her).
For the first time, I was thankful for the Brazilian. His frat boy antics deflected all of the negative attention I was afraid I had attracted. Three women I had been or am currently involved with were drinking and talking to each other. Two had exchanged phone numbers. As long as nobody suspected there was ever any overlap (there wasn’t), things should be OK.
He had been putting his moves on Laëtitia for the last fifteen minutes. He kept trying to push and stand between us. He told us about his morning sun salutation yoga exercises and meditation. He bragged that he had been asked to write a screenplay to make a documentary. He added that he had never written a screenplay before and did not have a background in either film or writing. He just didn’t know what to do, and nobody would help him write; yet he had magically been gifted with a request from a producer to write a screenplay. I told him that was wonderful. Being asked to write is the hard part. Many people in the US want to be a screenwriter because of Hollywood. They continually write, and submit unsolicited screenplays to film producers, but nobody reads them or even wants them. He sort of won the lottery with that meaning I didn’t believe him.
Tatyana, who had also been at the park, eventually bumped into us, and I introduced her. She was a model, but the Brazilian with the one-track mind would not even look at her. I was trying to help him, but he had already wasted the whole evening.
Laëtitia and I shared a glass of wine. We finished, and she set it on the table with only one swallow left. The Brazilian pounced on it and finished it. Although Laëtitia was giving him hints that she was not interested and that she was with me, he was persistent. It looked to Daniella and everybody else who could see them that Daniel and Laëtitia were a couple.
Maybe because Daniel saw me enter with Odette and then talk to Daniella, he thought he had a chance with Laëtitia. This is why I rarely go to clubs and don’t like to take dates that I actually care about to clubs.
There were no more surprises. Daniella, the old girlfriend, was cool and eventually wandered away. Odette abruptly became sick and rushed out of the club. Daniel thought he saw somebody he knew and would be right back.
It was very late, and Laëtitia and I rushed out. We went to the park where Odette found me earlier. We talked behind the trees for a few hours while hundreds of rats scuttled and squeaked in the leaves under the bushes.
Last night was kind of a fustercluck. Laëtitia and I have been planning to go to le Maxim’s together on a date. We have been seeing each other regularly for the last few weeks.
Daniella and I have been seeing each other for several months, but we only see each other once or twice a month. Daniella and I have not even spoken since before I met Laëtitia. I assumed Daniella had forgotten about me. Daniella and I have gone together to Maxim’s several times before.
At the last minute, Daniella asked me to take her to Maxim’s. I told her three times that I am busy that night. Daniella finally said she is going to the club anyway. This club is popular.
This week, there is a heatwave. My flat was 100 degrees, and I have been hugging ice packs to try to cool down. Yesterday when I finally went outside, I picked up a box of neomorphine tablets from the pharmacy for my migraine, and went to le Maxim’s club. It was early, and nobody was there. Laëtitia would arrive two hours later.
Maxim’s is one of the most famous restaurants and clubs in Paris. It opened in 1893 and is decorated in the style of Art Nouveau and has a Belle Epoch ambiance. The colors are warm, and there is a lot of woodwork carved in arabesques with floral and woodland motifs. Huge mirrors and paintings cover the walls. Many of the seats are covered in red velvet.
I went back outside to a park on the tip of the island and walked along a path under the trees. The park was crowded with people talking, musicians, lovers, stoners, gypsies, drunks, and pushers. I found an empty bench looking across the river.
I pulled out my notebook and began working on my novel. I’ve been writing this thing for 4 years now, and I work on it every chance I get. It was very hot outside. I was soaked with sweat, but at least it was cooler here by the river. I wrote for a few minutes and started worrying about my migraine which was building. I already had the migraine aura with some visual disturbances that looked like they belonged in a Medieval religious painting. I popped some neomorphine tablets out of their blister packs and swallowed a handful with a swig of tepid tea from a thermos. I made a little picnic and ate a madellien. Several honey bees found me, buzzed around, and kept landing on my hands while I typed.
I wrote for an hour, ignoring the bees crawling on my hands while I typed on my folding keyboard. Just then, some rats ran out over my feet squeaking furiously. It was too hot for shoes - I was wearing sandals, and their little paws tickled my feet. They had come out of the bushes behind me. I went back to typing, and suddenly Odette was standing in front of me.
I have never written about Odette because I didn't think I would see her again. Odette is tall, thin, and athletic. Only in America does ‘athletic’ mean ‘thick, beer-swilling, rugby player looking girl’ when used to describe a girl. In France, it means she is tall, thin, has toned muscles, and graceful. An athletic French girl looks like a tall ballet dancer or track and field runner. She has long black hair. She is from Normandy and is Jewish which is uncommon in Paris. Normandy is in France, of course, and I am wary of French women.
I stood and kissed her cheeks. “Hello Odette, you look beautiful. How are you? It’s been a long time”
“We need to talk,” Odette said. “You are going to Maxim's and so am I. We will be seeing each other at the book club too.”
She sat beside me. I don’t know how she knew this or even that I was at the park, and I did not want to ask. I suspect she has some psychic ability and hides it. She had never been to the club or even this park.
Odette and I met at a book club and spent a lot of time together last January. After our sixth outing, I had considered her a friend and was starting to have a crush on her. I was planning to ask her to do something romantic and make a pass at her. It took a while because things had ended with another girl a couple weeks earlier, and I felt shell shocked.
Had she not abruptly sent me a barrage of angry text messages that evening in January, I would have. She called me a cad and said I had been rude to her. I had never made any advances at her and thought we were becoming close friends. I told her I thought I had been very nice to her and asked her what I had done wrong. Why was she upset? She responded by saying that I should know and that I’m the nastiest person she has ever seen and that I should know what I did. I told her I was sorry for doing it, even though I had no idea what it was. Please tell me. She responded by blocking my phone number and messages from my email address. I had not had heard from her since then.
The honey bees buzzing around her made her nervous, and I shooed them away from her. Just then, yet another girl, Tatyana, a Russian expat who works at the fashion house Chanel, strolled past our bench. Tatyana was dressed like she was going to the club as well. I ducked behind Odette. Tatyana did not see me. Odette noticed me ducking, and I said that was Tatyana and I met her at the club a few months ago.
Odette and I talked for another hour. Couples were dancing the waltz on the opposite bank of the river to old fashioned accordion music. I was afraid to talk about what happened with Odette six months ago. She is French, and I knew I had violated some kind of protocol, but had no idea what. I did not want to upset her. Instead, we talked about what we had been reading. I have avoided the book club since January and there was a lot to catch up.
Eventually we went into the club but together. The line was long. I was wearing sandals because it was too hot for shoes or boots. I was worried the doorman wouldn’t let me in because they were against the dress code. We bought drinks, and I saw my date Laëtitia who was watching me and Odette. By the expression on her face, I suspected Laëtitia had seen me and Odette come in and order drinks together. I started to sweat.
I have never been the object of the attention of more than one woman and consider myself lucky when even one shows any interest.
I introduced Laëtitia and Odette. The three of us talked together for another hour. Odette and Laëtitia realized they had been born in the same village in Normandy. They had seen many of the same things growing up and had probably seen each other as children. They exchanged phone numbers.
Laëtitia excused herself, and Odette pulled me away to the back of the room. She can be persuasive. Laëtitia came back from the toilet, but she had a sticky a Brazilian jiu jitsu dude named Daniel trailing her.
Daniella (who had asked me to go to the club with her yesterday after I had already committed to Laëtitia) finally arrived. I had already told her I was going with somebody else so I wasn’t worried.
I introduced Daniella to Laëtitia (my date), Daniel (the Brazilian who was behaving as though he believed Laëtitia was his date), and Odette (who realized I was with Laëtitia but still kept trying to get me to sneak away with her).
For the first time, I was thankful for the Brazilian. His frat boy antics deflected all of the negative attention I was afraid I had attracted. Three women I had been or am currently involved with were drinking and talking to each other. Two had exchanged phone numbers. As long as nobody suspected there was ever any overlap (there wasn’t), things should be OK.
He had been putting his moves on Laëtitia for the last fifteen minutes. He kept trying to push and stand between us. He told us about his morning sun salutation yoga exercises and meditation. He bragged that he had been asked to write a screenplay to make a documentary. He added that he had never written a screenplay before and did not have a background in either film or writing. He just didn’t know what to do, and nobody would help him write; yet he had magically been gifted with a request from a producer to write a screenplay. I told him that was wonderful. Being asked to write is the hard part. Many people in the US want to be a screenwriter because of Hollywood. They continually write, and submit unsolicited screenplays to film producers, but nobody reads them or even wants them. He sort of won the lottery with that meaning I didn’t believe him.
Tatyana, who had also been at the park, eventually bumped into us, and I introduced her. She was a model, but the Brazilian with the one-track mind would not even look at her. I was trying to help him, but he had already wasted the whole evening.
Laëtitia and I shared a glass of wine. We finished, and she set it on the table with only one swallow left. The Brazilian pounced on it and finished it. Although Laëtitia was giving him hints that she was not interested and that she was with me, he was persistent. It looked to Daniella and everybody else who could see them that Daniel and Laëtitia were a couple.
Maybe because Daniel saw me enter with Odette and then talk to Daniella, he thought he had a chance with Laëtitia. This is why I rarely go to clubs and don’t like to take dates that I actually care about to clubs.
There were no more surprises. Daniella, the old girlfriend, was cool and eventually wandered away. Odette abruptly became sick and rushed out of the club. Daniel thought he saw somebody he knew and would be right back.
It was very late, and Laëtitia and I rushed out. We went to the park where Odette found me earlier. We talked behind the trees for a few hours while hundreds of rats scuttled and squeaked in the leaves under the bushes.