Chatou, précédemment

[Everybody’s goes to see the Luncheon of the Boating Party at the Phillips, but hardly anybody knows the real story behind it like we do…]

When I arrived, it was clear I had overestimated the formality of the occasion: I was looking forward to meeting Maupassant – I had been told he was interested in sharing ideas about the short form. Pierre-August, who had invited me, had also promised to share his thoughts on the strength of brevity in description and depiction. At the moment, he himself is briefer than expected; in fact he is nowhere to be seen. Instead of a seminar, I seem to have strayed into some fête galante.
In jacket and tie I cannot hope to blend in. My bowler, so anonymous in Paris, here floats conspicuous in a catonier tide. Escape seems my best option. Before I can mumble apologies and sneak back out, Aline catches my attention. She holds her dog with one hand and waves me over with the other, calling, “Baron! Over here Baron! Please sit here and join us.” (“Wait, ‘Baron’? How is it that you’ve become a Baron? Are you trying some kind of power trip?” I have no delusions of surpassing you; it’s not even my fault. In fact it’s a bit confusing to me still at this point. If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll see if I can upgrade your ‘Wonderful’ to ‘Princess’ somehow. But first, I have to figure out what this Baron thing is all about…) I look over my shoulder to see who the Baron could be, but no one is there. I turn back and raise an eyebrow at Aline, but she persists. “Oh Baron, quit fooling around and sit here where people are anxious to finally meet you. Pierre-August told them to expect you, and we’ve saved you a seat.” Intrigued, but wary, I take the open seat in the middle. Aline leans over to pour me a drink with a wink and slips a note into my hand with the glass. It reads, “You must be Baron Barbier for one hour. If you succeed, dinner is on me. –PAR”
Aline introduces me to the ladies I’ve been placed between, “This is Angèle, and Ellen Andrée, and you must have recognized Jeanne Samary.” Yes, hello,… glad to meet you,… a great pleasure. Mlle. Andrée keeps my hand a bit longer than I expected and says, “We’ve heard you have fabulous tales of your time in Cochinchine.” And where had you heard that? “Pierre-August was very effusive about your stories of adventure.” Well, the artists can be prone to exaggeration, can’t they? This comment causes Angèle to let a giggle escape, which, in turn, makes Caillebotte shrug and raise his palms with a guilty grin. I wonder what story he got caught trying to sell? The sense of superiority is fleeting, as at that moment I realize I could soon be in the same predicament.
I take a slow drink from my glass, taking extra time to savor it while I cast around for ideas. The new ironwork on the other side of the river gives me a starting point, and I decide to begin at the imaginary beginning. Playing to my strengths, I start to tell a travel tale (“Is it one that I know?” Not yet, but if I get it written down, I’ll be sure to share it with you. “Do I at least make an appearance?” Why would I bother to remember it otherwise? “Will you promise to tell me later?” In it’s turn. Let me get back to starting this one first, okay? “Fine, but don’t forget?” Don’t worry, I think you bring it up again later...)
It’s a good audience for the most part – they’ve got the right combination of intoxication, willingness to be entertained, and disinclination to critical listening. Ellen Andrée adjusts herself to sit directly opposite me. She’s playing the part of the avid fan today: prolonged eye contact (though with a spot that seems to be through me somewhere), exaggerated facial responses, laughing too much at the jokes. While her face and torso seem to hang on every word, she’s completely absent-minded in her attention to my tall tales of an imagined administrative life in Saigon.
The stories themselves are losing cohesiveness because of my own growing distraction. That woman at the edge of the party is listening in, but pretending not to. She looks at me when I face right, but every time I look back over to try and gauge her reaction she has already turned away again. I take the stories through odd turns and sudden changes of pace as I try to catch her off guard. The rest of my audience is eager to catch my eye, but the meanings elude them. The one person who seems to really be listening is the one who appears to give me the least attention. There! – a small flicker of a grin as I spiral off on a tangent about diplomacy, espionage, and eavesdropping. You catch me noticing your grin, and we see each other for what must’ve only been a moment for everyone else. Time declines to hold still though, and before I can say anything to you directly to ask you if you would join us, you’ve been caught by the elbow and spun around.
Jules LaForgue has pulled you aside to speak to you. He makes a great show of himself, and keeps trying to find the right angle to adjust his cap to. You’re supposed to be impressed – he makes too much of his influence at the Gazette des Beaux-Arts. You’re very tolerant and gracious towards him, and I can’t imagine why. Then it occurs to me: you must be our hostess Mlle. Fournaise. You don’t look quite like your portrait – it’s the hat perhaps, or maybe the hair color. Now I understand your attention to my story was likely politeness rather than interest (“I’m not like that you know.” No, but I am. Wait though, it’s not over yet, we really show up here in a bit…)
P-A’s game was fun, but my hour must be up by now. I pull out my watch and Aline sees it and nods: I win again. I’ll have to choose something particularly splendid for that meal. Mlle. Andrée is telling me how fond she was of the stories and how impressed she is at my accomplishments – some of which I don’t remember making up. She needs to rehearse this scene more, she’s having trouble sounding sincere to me. I’m listening past her to where Jules is now trying to get you to listen as he recites his poetry to you. He agrees with himself that it is quite good, and has launched into the first lines of another when his boss shows up and interrupts. Probably to remind him to pick up his laundry, I allow myself to think. You slip away and lean on the railing with a sigh. Ellen pauses mid-sentence to empty another glass, and I stifle a sigh of my own.
This time, it’s you that catches my eye, and nothing interrupts. I raise an eyebrow, cast a glance at Jules, then raise both eyebrows. You allow a small smile, then return the sentiment by glancing at Ellen, followed by mocking a vacant stare. When you focus again, there’s a smile on my face and a question in my eyes – it puts a smile on your face too.
I excuse myself from the table, promising to be back as soon as I can – it seems everyone wants to know how the incident with the Colonel turned out, and I have no idea. You step forward as I make my way to the railing and tip my hat. Thank you for the hospitality, I’ve had a wonderful time.
“Well, I do what I can.”
Everything was quite nice, did you pick the cabernet yourself?
“Oh yes, did you like it?”
Of course, I always order it at your father’s restaurant.
“My father’s…?”
Yes, the Fournaise establishment is a favorite out here away from the city.
“Right! My father Alphonse Fournaise.”
And may I assume you are Alphonsine?
“You may assume that.”
I’m sorry, have I been too forward? You seem distressed or conflicted by something.
“It’s just that we haven’t exactly been introduced. Yet, you look, familiar to me.”
I am your servant Ma’m’selle, call me what you will.
“Shall I call you ‘Baron’ then?”
For the short term. Perhaps I’ll call you ‘Princess’ in that case?
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Well then, Princess, would you allow your Baron to get you a drink?
“Thank you, but no. Actually, I was hoping to leave – I’ve had enough for today.”
In that case, let me transport and escort you. I’ll ask Alphonse Junior if he’ll lend us a skiff. Back in a moment…
I turn around to where Alphonse Jr. is leaning back. He looks at me with a puzzled look. Al, you’ll lend your sister and me a skiff to get back off the island won’t you?
/My sister?... (just behind where I am now Aline waves to him, shows him the money for the fee and puts a finger to her lips. Her dog sees the opening, jumps down and starts to beg scraps from the other guests) Oh, sure, My sister. Okay Baron take whichever one suits you. You might be a bit warm in that jacket though./
I‘ll tell you what Al, you can be the Baron of this party now. I take my coat off and give it to him, then turn to offer you my arm.
“You seem more familiar to me somehow in shirtsleeves. Are you sure we haven’t met before?”
Not before, but maybe we’ve met after, and we just don’t realize it yet.
“Maybe,… maybe that’s it.”
Go ahead and climb in, I’ll hold it steady. Now take the oars from me so I can get in.
“You’re sure you know how to pilot one of these? ‘Cause I don’t intend to do any swimming unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
Well, you won’t win any races with me up in Argenteuil, but I can paddle across here.
“I was just wondering if you had some special aversion to water. I thought it was unusual that you arrived in the port of Saigon by train.”
Well, I was coming from Tourane in the south.
“Tourane is north of Saigon.”
Alright, you got me. Now I’ve got one for you: I was wondering why Alphonse Jr. didn’t seem to recognize his own sister.
“He drinks too much at these things.”
He doesn’t drink at all.
“Fine. I knew you couldn’t be some administrative royal – you’re not suited to it.”
And I knew you were out of place amongst the actresses back there – too genuine. Where is it you have to get to that made you decide to leave.
“I just had to leave. And you? Why didn’t you stay with your beautiful admirers back there?”
Why stay after the only interesting person leaves?
“So, here we are, two fictions with no plans; what are we rowing towards?”
Maybe we ought just let the current take us a ways. I’ll pull us ashore a bit further downstream and try to talk you into risking other adventure.
You acknowledge the lift in my voice and the raised eyebrow (“You ought to be careful you don’t overuse that. You might sprain something.” Yeah, I know, or maybe it’ll get stuck that way.) with a cautious squinty look – more than necessary for the sunlight glinting off the Seine. “Real or imagined adventure ‘Baron’?”
Somewhere between the two: the kind where you risk sharing your true self with someone who’s truly listening. Daring to trespass on your insecurities in order to discover another perspective on your self.
“That’s too slick – I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
Only the princesses.
We’ve pulled up to the landing, and disembarking is going in the reverse of boarding. You sit steady and hold the oars as I get out. You start to hand me them just as I bend down to pull the skiff in further and you catch me right on the chin, and the strike sits me down on the bank. That’s gonna bruise nicely – I’ll have to keep an eye on you. Wait, no I’m fine, wait till I get the boat steady before you start out.
“I’m so sorry.”
Just a little bruise, by the end of the week you may be hearing second hand accounts of the Baron’s bar fight. Give me your hand now and come walk with me. Right up here is the place I wanted to bring you to.
“Here, this wall?”
(“Wait, wait, back up – you’re not going to follow up with the getting clobbered with the oars?”
I would if it amounted to anything, but it’s nothing, really. It was my fault for sticking my chin out like that when you’re handing me the oars. Wouldn’t do to get distracted by something like that.
“You should let me take a look at it though – let me see.”
Okay, what do you think, any broken skin?
“No.”
Any teeth missing?
“Smile for me – nice by the way – nope.”
Look into my eyes, do I look dazed at all? Am I having trouble focusing?
“No more than usual, smart aleck, just trouble with being too obvious.”
Just laugh at it, and let’s get back…)
The gate’s over here, it’s been left unlocked.
“What if someone’s around?”
I don’t think anyone is – I spent the morning here with my coffee, writing. Come on, it’s beautiful inside. Maybe a thorn or two…
(“Are those supposed to represent our insecurities?”
Don’t work so hard at it, sometimes it’s just what it is.
“Which is what?”)
Through the iron gate in the brick wall we step into a large rose garden. I lead you along the paths to admire the varieties. We end up at a bench shaded by a lattice covered by climbers. A light breeze keeps both the scent and the late afternoon heat from becoming too intense. The rest of the afternoon is spent laughing at our own true stories. It’s starting to get late, perhaps we should head along the river to find some guinguette for a light supper. If we’re lucky, there might be music.
“That would be lovely I’m sure, but I need to get to the station. I can’t stay in Chatou overnight. I have to be in Paris in the morning.”
I hadn’t planned on staying either – I’ll escort you on the train then, as far as Paris. I myself am heading just east of the city. The day is coming to a close as we board the train headed back for the city. Most everyone else is staying through the weekend, so we are able to get a compartment to ourselves: you can have that seat facing forward, and I’ll take the one opposite. As the train pulls away from the station, we hit a pause in the conversation. It’s been a long day, and we feel no time pressure to keep talking. We both watch the landscape pass by beyond the window. It loses more and more detail as the sun sets until the only thing visible in the window is the reflection of ourselves. The gentle sway of the car and the repetitive clack under the wheels help me give way to my fatigue and I slip just below the surface, just awake enough to still be aware of you. You’re leaning forward to touch the back of my hand with your fingertips. You pause for a moment, then go ahead and put your palm down on my hand.
“Did you say you were writing in the rose garden?”
One eye opens, and I reply. Yes, something occurred to me, and I wanted to see how it’d work out.
“May I hear it?”
Of course, I’m pretty sure it was meant for you. Sit back and close your eyes while I get my notebook out…
“Am I in this one?”
It’s quite possible…

Vancouver

We get back from across the Pacific late in the afternoon. We have to hurry and get a move on. The wipers have to struggle to cut the film of dust and dried sea spray that’s collected since we were here. We get to the dock just in time to catch the last Port Townsend – Keystone Ferry. It’s fortunate that it’s not too crowded at this time of day ‘cause I didn’t get a chance to make a reservation. I put a small bag of stuff together to pass the time with (you want to toss your book in here? “Sure, thanks. What else’re you bringing?” Just little stuff, I’ll know better as we get further into the story. “And what’re we doing out on the water again? More marine life?” If I said ‘no’, would it be a big disappointment? “Well, I don’t want these to get stuck in a rut, but maybe a little disappointed.” Ah, I see, maybe I can work something out…), and we lock the rest of our stuff in the car and head to the upper decks.
We manage to find an open booth on the port side windows where we can each sit and stretch out sideways across the seats. We’ve got a few minutes before we cast off, and we spend them quietly sitting and resting…
“So, got anything good in the bag?”
Got some cards, want to play ‘Go Fish’? (There’s a marine life appearance for you. “Yeah, a lame one that doesn’t count.” I know, I’m just having a little fun…)
“Yeah, that’s about the most mentally challenging game I’m up for.”
I’m tired too – big travel day.
The ferry heads out, and the water’s pretty choppy – the cabin movement adds a pressure to my forehead that makes concentration difficult, even for ‘Go Fish’. A waitress comes by: I’m hungry, but I don’t dare eat – the smell and sight of the food at the other tables brings a knotted feeling to my stomach. Maybe we’ll just get a couple of soft pretzels and a ginger ale to split (Ginger ale’s okay right? I don’t think it’s conducive to stones: it’s not brown anyway. “It’s not my favorite, but it seems like a good idea at this moment.” Okay then, a large ginger ale). My forehead’s sweating now, and it’s feeling really warm in here. Come on, and let’s find a place to sit outside.
The evening wind coming off the water is brisk and cold. I take my hat off and let it blow through my hair to try and numb the headache and slow down the spinning. We find a bench that faces the port/west side and look out over the water as it flashes reflections of the descending sun. The intercom announces something that we can’t quite make out about something to see, then a few hundred yards out we spot the dolphins swimming by and occasionally surfacing and puffing out a spray. (“Okay, that one counts. Seems a little superfluous though.” Yeah, not sure that’ll make it past the edit. “You edit these things? How could anyone tell?” I’m in the process of vetting an editor now, or I will be, just as soon as I ask her if she’s interested.) Focusing out in the distance is not settling me out like it’s supposed to. “When is this ride supposed to be over?” You too, eh? Well, there’s supposed to be a shiatsu point on your wrist near your ulna – here, I’ll show you. “Ow!” Still sore? I’ll hold less tightly. Maybe if we just space out: I’ve got a second pair of headphones, we could just try to survive the rest of the way with our eyes closed letting the breeze keep our heads cool, listening to some acoustic rock and classical guitar, passing the ginger ale back and forth, pretending not to notice each other burping (“Nice.” What? Tell me it doesn’t help with the head pressure. “Okay, but you’re sitting leeward.” Of course, of course.). Sitting calmly settles us down enough to get the rest of the way across, and we head back down to be ready to drive when it’s our turn to disembark. I get us off the ferry, but then pull into a parking space near the waiting area. “What’s up?” I don’t think I’m ready to drive, I’m still having trouble opening my eyes up and focusing – maybe we can find a place to stay here and go the rest of the way tomorrow. “I’m feeling okay, I’ll drive.” Okay, we’ve got about 2 hours left to drive if you’re up to it. “I feel alright now (You were doing a let of burping. “Maybe I’ll drive on, and you can stay here” Sor-ry, sheesh.), and this way we’ll have some decent driving for a change.” If I could get the uncomfortable and tired look off my face, I’d scowl and pretend to be hurt by that remark. “Yeah, whatev’s, you don’t scare me.” (“You won’t fall asleep though will you?” Well, I’d rather not. Why? “I wouldn’t want this dream to end – in case you started something else. Why wouldn’t you want to, Mr. “rather not”? ‘Cause I wouldn’t want to miss something you might say.) I’ll endeavor to be an able second in command ‘Captain’ – I’ll try to keep an eye on the directions, adjust the climate controls, fish out CD’s for you… We need to end up on Granville Island – I’ve already made the reservations for us. I’ve still got pressure in my temples and a dull absence above my forehead. I slide the seat back, pull my cap tight over my head, and wrap myself up, tucking my hands in to my sweatshirt pocket.
“Remember now, you’re not going to fall asleep and leave me alone now are you?”
No ma’am, Captain ma’am.
Do you still have that World Café CD set in here? If you do, put that in first.
I find it, and put it in as we’re off heading north on U.S. 5, looking for the Canadian 99. An easy song catches us each with our guard down for a minute or two, and we’re each tentatively singing along. We’re listening carefully to match each other without being too noticeable, neither of us daring to look at each other or acknowledge we’re doing it. The song ends, and I shift in the seat and sneak a look at you: you’re smiling a little (I can tell), opening up into a big smile as you glance over and I catch your eye – cool.
“Play that one again, won’t you?”
I will if you sing along again… I wonder whatever happened to Semisonic anyway?
The rest of the drive goes by fast (we revisit some other favorites on CD), but ends none too soon. When we pull in, you rub your eyes and forehead while you lean/stretch forward on the wheel. Check-in is a breeze, and you go up ahead while I go back out to get the bags. When I get to the room the lights are all out, but the curtains are pulled back from the open window, letting in the moonlight and air. You’ve fallen asleep in your clothes on top of the covers (“I only lay down for a minute to reat my eyes – how long did it take you to get up there?” I dunno, maybe five minutes, tops. “Well, I must’ve been more tired than I thought.” Yeah, I know, I’m glad you drove though, thanks.) I put our things in the drawers and closet as quietly as I can in the moonlight. The I set up the bathroom and put the bags away. The carpet feels good – good to get my shoes and socks off and be somewhere relatively stationary. I brush my teeth and wash my face with a warm washcloth, letting it press into my eyelids.
You haven’t twitched, not even when I stubbed my toe on the leg of the bed. I gently work your shoes and socks off. I manage to pull the covers out from under you and tuck you in. Lastly, I remember the washcloth. I re-warm it and kneel beside the bed to wipe your face. You hum/purr once or twice, and when I’m done you roll over, pulling the covers up tight. Your hair smells nice – how do you do that?
I’ve been up for too long now, and I’m too tired to sleep. I pull the armchair over to the window and sit with my feet propped up and wondering what the lights are out on the water…
I’m awakened in the dark by you pulling at the sleeve of my shirt…
“Come on now, you snore too much sitting up.”
Huh? Oh, sorry, how embarrassing.
“I’m just kidding, but you’ll be sorry if you sleep in the chair all night. Lie down on that side over there.”
I’ve got too many pillows here, you want some?
“The one with the drool on it I was using to hug.”
Well, that one’s all yours then.
“Could I put my hand on your shoulder?”
There’s no answer, ‘cause it’s too late, I’m already out. Still, when the fingers close around my arm I scoot within easier reach. You shift to prop your forearm up on my arm, and I let out a long exhale with the hint of a laugh in it, that goes unheard since you’ve dropped off too…

Habit snatches me from sleep a little before 5, but I’m not in any hurry to get up. I lie in the dark listening to your breathing and try to match mine to it. Yours quickens and you shift a bit as you start to drift into a dream. I try to force myself to sleep to meet you there, but can’t manage it. I check my watch and see 5:05, next check it’s 5:08, then 5:12, 5:15, 5:20 before I decide it’s no use. If I don’t get up now, my fidgeting around’s likely to wake you. So, I roll out, grab my small pack of things and helmet and sneak off…

I’m back in the lobby by 8:30 – forced back by rain. There’s free coffee in the lobby to warm my hands with at least. It’s not the best brew in the world, but still much better’n mine. I ask the operator to switch on the message light on our room phone and leave a message at the desk for you. The concierge finds a towel and a copy of the paper for me, and stashes my helmet and gloves behind the desk (Nice guy, I didn’t even have to ask, he just offered. “You know, a lot of people are like that away from the East.” We’ll have to make sure we factor that in when we choose where we go. “Are you saying these aren’t as carefully planned as I thought?” Um, no, uh, every last detail is carefully tuned and selected, uh,… “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”) I get myself as dried off as I can and find a comfy chair in the lobby to sit and do the crossword in. (“You didn’t mention the concierge giving you a pen.” Oh, I always have a pen. “You set me up for that one.” Yeah, thanks for the straight line. “Anything to help, you know.”)
You find me with my mouth open (“Catching flies?”) and the puzzle half-done lying in my lap. My hair’s all spiking up (Forgot to bring my cap with me), and after running your fingers over it a few times I start to stir.
“Hey, if you’re going to leave me alone could you at least leave me a note so I know what’s going on?”
I did. I left a message at the desk to come down and get me when you were all ready for the day.
“Well, I woke up in an empty room at around 8, got dressed and went out to get some coffee.”
8?! There’s no way I could’ve anticipated that.
“Yeah, well I’m a little off schedule with the travel, and got a little more restful sleep than usual.”
Maybe you’re becoming a Morning Person?
“Not likely, I’ll leave that to you – what’d you do this morning: not riding without a helmet were you?”
No, I’ve got it stashed at the desk – I took a great ride around Stanley Park. Two big loops with a detour each time for a smaller loop around Beaver Lake. The first loop was great, flat and fast, with beautiful scenery. The second loop started the same way, but then the rain started when I was at the furthest point.
“Yeah, you look a little washed out – you weren’t able to hold off the rain?”
I never use my powers for purely selfish reasons.
“Okay,…wi-erd.”
Let me just run up to get clean and changed…
“…and shaved…”
…and shaved, and we can head out and see what Vancouver’s got.
“Wait a minute, I’ve got something for you.” You lean in and hover over me in the chair, looking into my eyes, and pause,… before pulling a cup of coffee and a paper bag out from behind your back. “Here, French roast and two plain donuts – and when I say plain, I only mean there’s nothing on them, they’re really good.”
You’re the best.
“I know.”
I’ll be back in minutes.
Uncurling from the chair takes a few moments – seems my legs left some of their get-up-and-go out in the rain this morning – but then I’ve grabbed my breakfast from you and am rushing off to the room.

Coming out of the bathroom and I’m completely transformed. Clean, shaven, fresh clothes, energetic. You’re sitting at the desk looking at brochures.
“I don’t suppose there’s any reason for me to bother looking right? Since you’ve already got a plan?”
I’m always open to suggestions, but let’s agree to this first: I’ll toss out the Mount Whistler bike trail brochure if you leave aside the Hidden Ranch horseback riding one, for today at least. Let me get my shoes on, and we’ll go downtown, see how funky Vancouver can be.
“You don’t want to just hang around here? There’s a lot of cool and artsy stuff?”
Yeah, I definitely want to go to the glassblower, but I thought we’d start further out and end up back around here tonight so we could crash whenever we’re ready.
“Alright, I want to make sure we go by the kid’s bazaar, maybe see if I can see anything new or cool.”
You got it. You ready for another boat ride? You look at me with disbelief after yesterday’s experience.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Just a short one, water taxi across the bay.
“Fine.”
Being on a boat again brings back a few flashback moments from yesterday, but no real symptoms. In a few minutes, we’re disembarking at the Aquatic Center and catching a cab to the main drag: Robsonstrasse (well, just Robson Street now). We start at the west end of Robson and just wander east window shopping – pulling each other into whatever store grabs our fancy. There’s a lot of high-end look-but-don’t-buy shops here, but it’s fun to put on that we’re in command and that money is no object. The art glass/jewelry shop is awesome and very tempting. It’s too early here to let our resolve not to spend be weakened – here, come across the street to Grand Maple Gifts and let’s get you a travel mug, okay? Now we’ll have something and we won’t need to buy anything else. I lose sight of you for awhile while I’m picking one out. Where’d you go?
“Never you mind, you’ll find out by the end.”
I’ve got to go into Legerdemain just to see what a name like that’s supposed to mean in a shop. In Escents, we try to guess from the scent what the aromatherapy effect is supposed to be – without much success: maybe their mislabeled. The overall effect of about 15 minutes in the shop is to leave us a bit overwhelmed, and we’re glad to get back out into the ‘fresh’ air of the street. CinCin smells good and gets us thinking about lunch.
“Italian okay? We could sit upstairs on the terrace?”
Italian’s always good, but let’s try to sit in a restaurant that’s got a terrace on the north side of the street so we can look out over the inlet.
“There was also that French place on the north side of the last block…”
Um, yeah, I’m sure that’s good and all, but I don’t really like many French specialties, just like you and the German ones.
“Whew, I was afraid you’d take me up on the French thing.”
I know, it was sweet of you to offer: movies, wine, pastry, some poetry, that’s where we should draw the line and leave lunch on the other side of it. Settebello looks good, has a terrace, and faces the right way, but let’s go another block or two up this side and come back on that side – that’ll ensure a good appetite.
The Hologram Store is a bit of a disappointment – maybe in another 10 years it’ll be cooler. Likewise Thunder Music looked like it’d have more cool indie stuff than it did. Silver Gallery has a lot of great looking and graceful and attractive things that matched you style, but (“No, wait, not ‘but’, can’t we just imagine we could afford just this one piece? I really like it.” You know, it’s really you, and it pains me to say no, but here’s the deal – you help me polish up the next book and when it does well I’ll bring you back and let you pick out whatever. “Book? Why not a movie deal? The we’d really have some cash. But here’s the true deal – I’ll help you polish it up anyway and I don’t need the jewelry: we’ll find something else to spend the money on.” Besides, you’ve already got a travel mug. “Right, and I’ve already got a travel mug.”)
If you’re hungry now, there’s a Hooters right up there.
“Har, har, hardy, har har, come on across the street.”
One more stop at Butterflies and Bugs (more for the butterflies really), then we’re back at Settebello just in time for a table to open up on the terrace in the sun. Lunch is perfect: delicious but not heavy, and we finish up (you gonna eat the rest of that? “Yes, but I’d offer you a taste of it if you thought to offer sharing yours.” But of course, sorry, what would you like? “Is that any good?” Yeah, take a bite. “And here, you should try this.” Mmm, I like that.) satisfied without being stuffed and sleepy. Our timing is good too – when we get out we only have a 10 minute wait for the bus to Grouse Mountain.
The bus ride offers some great views of the city, and you get to see Stanley Park as we go through the center of it (“I’m still a little upset that you went without me.” I promise, we’ll stop here on the way back today.). At the foot of Grouse Mountain we buy a tram ticket and coffee to enjoy while we wait.
“So tell me more about this book.”
Well, the thing is, there’s not much to it yet, but I do have pens and notebooks, and I think I’ve found an editor/contributor. If any actual words start to appear, I’ll share ‘em with you.
“So you’re planning on buying me silver with fool’s gold?”
A fool is involved, that much is sure, here’s the tram now…
Yet another conveyance playing with my nervous system – as the car heads up the mountain there are spectacular views of the park, and the city, and the inlet, and the bay, but the altitude causes my hands and feet to tingle as the blood rushes out of them, and my palms to sweat, and me to shift around in my anxiety. You get me to hold up Snowman to get some pics of him enjoying the view (He’s quite the daredevil – if I leaned up against the window like that I’d turn pale white,,, wait a minute, he is pale white.)
At the top of the mountain we alternate between taking in the vistas below us and watching the birds above. You point out a peregrine as it soars overhead. There’s another one. That screech with the vibrato at the end sounds like a red-tailed hawk, but I don’t see… there it is. And there’s another further down. In the bird house up here, Sauron the golden eagle jumps up to the front of his enclosure to get a better look at us. He turns his head to regard us silently, keeping his secrets to himself…
Back down in Stanley Park, the afternoon is running out. We pause to get a map and our bearings at the pavilion, then head west through the garden. We go up to the Beaver Lake, which is pretty crowded now, so we turn off the lake trail to make our way to Ferguson Point and catch a light dinner at Sequoia Grill at the Teahouse. After dinner, a bit more walking past the beach and along the seawall as the sun sets over the bay. Once we get out of the park, we catch a cab back to Granville Island. You’re totally in charge now that we’re within easy walking distance back to the hotel (“How’d I end up totally in charge?” Well, I’ve been up all day now, and it’s starting to wear me down and I’m getting tired. “Well, you better not be too tired, ‘cause I’m interested in a lot of this.” That’s cool – I’ve got plenty of energy to follow, just not enough to lead. “Well, maybe next time you won’t take off early and leave me alone.” Maybe next time, I’ll wake you up. “Just remember there’re consequences either way.” I’m mindful that they’re pleasant in both cases – lead on Mein Kapitan! “You might want to stick to English when you’re tired – just a friendly suggestion.”).
As the shops start to close, I influence us toward the Granville Island Brewery (“What happened to my being totally in charge? It hardly lasted one paragraph.” What? you want to just go back to the hotel? “No, but I think you mistake who influenced whom.” It’s just you’re so subtle it’s hard to recognize. In any case, we find ourselves at the Brewery, both thinking it was our idea.). We set Snowman up with a pint for a final photo-op, then have a few drinks ourselves. The city looks great lit up at night. The beers are pretty good too.
“I’m just about all in, do you mind if we head back?”
No, it’s cool, I’m ready to quit too. I was wondering though, what was it that you bought?
“Still too soon to say, it’ll be better if you let it surprise you.”
I’m all out of Canadian money – you manage the walk back?
“My legs are tired…”
Come on then, jump up.
“There’s no way…”
What do you overestimate your size or underestimate me?
“I’m too tired to fight it, let’s go.”
You put both arms around my neck when I kneel down, and my legs are less tired than I thought when I come back up with you piggy-back (“Come on now, that’s absurd.” No it’s not, it’s ridiculous, but if you could suspend the self-judgement and let yourself have fun with it you might even laugh about it. Tomorrow we’ll chalk it up to the beers and you can make fun of me about it. “You shouldn’t expect me to try to embarrass you about it – but promise you won’t drop me.” Promise.) We get within a block of the hotel, and you say in my ear, “You can let me down now ‘Clyde’.” Once I put you down it’s, “Last one back to the room has to go out and get breakfast tomorrow!” and you take off running.
That’s totally unfair! You come carry me for a while, then we can race!
You stop, turn back and call, “You know that’s not how it works – you’d ‘let’ me win anyway.”
Okay, you win, I’ll get breakfast tomorrow, just come back and walk the rest of the way with me.
You meet me halfway, with both hands behind your back. “Pick one.”
I pick your left hand, which you hold out, turn over and open.
Is that for me?
“Yeah, it’s what I got while you were buying the travel cup. Do you like it?”
Very much. Thank you.
The rest of the way back to the hotel we walk with you holding my right arm and I holding a carved wooden bear in my left hand…

Melbourne

You’re right, I did already know where we were going, though you already seemed to know what we were going to do…
We pack our stuff back up in the car (it could really stand to get washed – maybe it’ll rain. “Whoa! hold it right there buster. You said we’d had enough rain for now.” Did I? I thought I had you say it – anyway, you’re the one who brought us to the northwest, I’m just looking for a way to get out of washing the car.). Well, we can leave the car for now and grab that cup of coffee, sit down, and figure out the trip.
“Can I see your West Coast map?”
Yeah, as soon as I get back. Café au Lait?
“If it looks like they know how.” (Cinnamon? It’d be too Gallic to assume.)

Here you go. Clear some table room for the map.
“We going North [shaking head]? Or South [nodding]?”
Subtle, but wrong both times, we’re going West.
“Here, let me have that map. You sure you know how to read one?”
All yours – West Coast of Australia. So we won’t need the car for this one – we can leave it here to get rained on in our absence. Meanwhile, off to Melbourne...

From the terminal, we’ll head straight to the tram station with our carry-ons: we won’t need much (not that you and I ever do).
It’s shirtsleeves and shorts weather in downtown Melbourne so make sure you’ve brought those before we go (Shave? Is that going to be a problem? “Vorsicht!” Okay, abrupt change of subject, let’s get back). Summertime, not only warm, but an extra-long day to get some stuff done in (“You do know it’s late fall in Melbourne right now?” Well, I had to change that: you didn’t want rain, and today in Melbourne real-time it’s 48 degrees and mostly cloudy, that just wouldn’t do). Actually it’s already gotten late – just as well we skip a meal before going out on the water.
(“Copy Cat.” Hey, I had this idea independently, it was already in the notebook. In fact, I suspect you might’ve read ahead and stolen it from me. “Well, let’s just share it then, and not worry about who had it first. Try to do a good job with my idea though.” Right. I don’t think the marine biologist in you will mind how it turns out.)
We might as well just walk down the river to the docks. We should be able to get someone to point us to the right boats from there.
“There’s a sign for ‘Dolphin Cruises’.”
That’s it, I hope we can still catch one.
“Looks like the first ones just left, and the next one doesn’t go until this afternoon.”
Wait here a bit, would you? Let me see what I can work out.
After a few minutes in the boat house, I come back out. Okay! Let’s go: Dolphin Cruise just for two.
“How’d you do that?”
Well, I just appealed to their better angels – certainly a relationship strong enough to get us all the way across the globe for a day shouldn’t have to miss out from being 15 minutes late.
“They really went for that?”
Well, something like that, they’re really poetic people here, plus some cash. Besides, if they were gonna be sticklers about it, I’d just go back and rewrite us in 20 minutes earlier. (“Don’t do that, it takes you long enough to finish these as it is.” Right, well anyway…)
The sky is clear with a light breeze sweeping it, and the water is a deep blue. The sun sparkles off the waves and the boat’s wake as we head out into the ocean. The Captain’s got some French bread and a variety of cheeses for us, which we leave mostly untouched. You look all adventurous standing on deck with the wind blowing your hair back (How come your hair’s not blowing? Hat, I suppose?” Nope, I just got it cut, not enough of it left to blow).
We get out to where the dolphins are, and we drop anchor and help set out the buoys. The dolphins are clearly used to this – they keep their distance while we finish preparations, coming a little closer to investigate as we slip into the water. Don’t be so quick to leave me behind, eh?
“I still think you’re a better swimmer than that.”
Nothing I dislike more than to fall short of your expectations, but this is as good as my swimming gets: effective, that’s the best that can be said of it.
You circle me as I work my way away from the boat. A little playful splash-fighting ensues. I try to pick up my pace a bit to move from the center of your circles to the circumference with you. Now it’s become almost a game of tag, and we try to keep each other guessing. Changing direction or speed, diving…, at a pause, we suddenly realize the dolphins have moved closer to join the game.
Um, you know, when they move in like that it’s a little spooky.
“You can’t be spooked, it was your idea.”
The next time one swims between us, we both reach toward it, and you actually manage to stroke its side. It circles back quicker and tighter behind me to come back between us and pause. This time we both get an opportunity to put a hand on each side of it, which it allows for a moment or two before kicking off again. This time it circles back underneath us, popping up to chortle and whistle at us. I try to mimic it (Him? he acts like a him), but he just splashes me in response, and now you’re both chortling at me.
We spend another half hour in the water, and meet a few other dolphins, but it’s about time to head back in (I didn’t pay that much), and anyway, I can’t keep my head above water much longer. Our first new friend follows me over to the boat and gives me a puff of spray through his blowhole as I climb back into the boat. He looks after me long enough to get a quick shot of him in the background of a picture of Snowman at the rail of the deck.
You stay out to make the most of the rest of our time, but now it is time to get back in. Here, I’ll give you a hand back up.
“Always finding some way to hold my hand aren’t you?”
Fine. Climb in without my help.
“That one was pretty good, except you still smiled a bit when you said it. And it should come out shorter and sharper. So now you’re not gonna take my hand just to be stubborn?”
Just wait, the story’s not over yet.
“Fine.”
Oh, now I’m starting to get it.
I’m tired from all the swimming, so we take a river taxi back up river to the center of town. We gotta get back to the tram station and catch one out of town for about 45 minutes (we should try not to fall asleep – might wake up somewhere’s else before I’m done with this one) or so, then pick up a small van to a vineyard for a tasting.
“Really? Warum?”
Again, just thought you’d like it, plus I’m determined to learn from you. And, finally, I’d like to pick up from the fatigue and slide into mellow; sit in a beautifully lush green setting, in the afternoon, letting the rest of the day slide by.
“You do over-schedule us sometimes.”
Yeah, still working on the virtue of sitting quietly – thought this afternoon we’d help each other learn.
The breeze is here too, which just keeps us warm, but not too warm, under a shade tree at our table. Pinot Noir is the most popular variety. How is it? How do you describe that? I can tell these two are different, but couldn’t describe how.
“Remember: ‘working on sitting quietly’?”
Okay, another time then. Let me take your empty glass for you.
I catch your hand between mine and the glass briefly before switching hands to get the glass free.
“Some kinda ‘smooth’ way of holding my hand?”
Really, it was just an accident. If we could agree to focus on that less, it might actually become possible again.
“Okay, I’ll try. For you.”
You’re so gracious, and selfless, and sarcastic, and I thank you with all my heart.
“So, the sun’s going down, you’ve arranged to have me drink some wine; you gonna hold my hand now as the sun goes down over the vineyard?”
Wow, that is a good one. Green below, purple and blue up high, pink and orange in the middle, with just a hint of white and shadow from some wispy clouds. But, to answer your question, no, not holding your hand now either, too obvious.
“Well, I need my hand free for this anyway” – and you run your fingers through the tickly stubbly hair on the back and base of my head.
Lumpy without the hair to cover it all up, ain’t it?
“Shh, go back to the sunset why don’t you?”
Okay, the purple is gradually starting to deepen and dominate now that the sun is nearly below the horizon. The orange fades to an uncomplicated red, with just a bright yellow underpinning, that’s…, just…, about…, out. Now there’s no sun left, with just a red to blue western sky with bright white highlights in the high clouds. With the competition gone, the thin silver crescent moon seems to brighten.
I’m really about as mellow as I can be. If we don’t get up I’m going to slip into sleep. Will you take a walk through the vineyard with me?
“I was hoping we would, but you brought up that ‘sitting still’ thing.”
After you, no, after you, but I insist, no I couldn’t,…
“What?”
We’re so anxious to get out of each other’s way today. Let’s take that walk.
A suggestion of mist is rising among the rows of vines as the air temperature drops just a bit. It swirls around our ankles as we walk over the low rolling hills. Most of the vines are either flowering or budding. Here and there a moonflower vine has snuck in among the grapevines and been allowed to stay, and their bright white blooms are starting to open as they cool. Sniff one: they’re lovely and understated, and the scent lingers in your mind long after you’ve smelled it.
“Mmm, Hmm.”
The top of the next hill is clear. It’d be a nice place to watch the stars coming out if it didn’t mean sitting on the wet ground. I should’ve thought to bring a blanket…
(“Wait, didn’t I bring one?” What do you mean, where did you get one? “Look smarty, just do something with that pen of yours.” Okay, let me just put a few words in your mouth to make it seem reasonable…)
“Help me spread this blanket out.”
Where’d you get that?
“It was on the chair before, I thought it might come in handy.”
You’re so smart.
I sit on you left, you sit on my right. The southern sky is a bit confusing, don’t usually see some of these constellations. I try to point some out with my right hand. There’s Orion – can always spot him. Over there’s Canis Major, so, that’s gotta be Canis Minor; between the two dogs is the Unicorn. Diagonally from there, I think that’s the Phoenix, and all the squiggling across is the Hydra, I think.
“Could you point with your other hand instead?”
Sure, why?
“Good, now hold my hand with this one.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Well, you weren’t going to try to first.”
And over there is the Smiley. And if you look there, like that, and there, you can see Spike and Cactus…, let’s see what else…
“Hey! Shooting star – did you see that?”
Yep. Make a wish.