A Cafe Romance in Paris

‘Silly, this doesn’t have to be romance, just fun…’ Naomi was giggling again.

Eliza did not listen to her friend’s advice. She simply had to get rid of what she considered as a burden and an obligation. The next morning, Sunday, she went a bit early at 8.30 and sat near the table where the man usually sits but he was not yet there. Usually he was always there seated in one corner, smoking his cigar and he always sat up and gave a mysterious smile whenever she entered and took her seat near a window of the café and she would look out of the window all the time to avoid his glance and then again glance back to check if he was still looking. But today he was not there and Eliza sat and waited. 9.30…10.30…she sat for two hours and he didn’t turn up. So Eliza got up and decided to leave.

Just as she was leaving, she saw him entering the café and he smiled at her. She maintained a serious look and said, ‘Excuse me…I wanted to ask you why you are paying my bill everyday?’ The man smiled again, ‘It is okay, I like it, my pleasure’. ‘You’ve been paying for the last five days and if you don’t mind, I can return the…..’ Eliza tried to open her purse. ‘No, no…it is okay, do you want to sit with me and have a chat?’ Eliza couldn’t refuse as he reached out and grabbed her hand, as if he suddenly found some courage at the eleventh hour and introduced himself as ‘Vincent’.

‘I find you amazing and beautiful’, Vincent told Eliza as they quickly became friends and began talking about travels and Paris about art and literature and about love and the smell of coffee. ‘What do you find so beautiful in me?’ Eliza asked. ‘Maybe this whole mystery, we’re having. This romance, so beautiful and the mystery you have in you, the way you look and express yourself, is so beautiful and intriguing’.

Vincent worked as a distribution manager for a magazine and for the next few days met Eliza after work and before work in the café. The next five days simply passed rapidly like a whiff of fragrant air as the two walked around Paris , in the Louvre and near the river Seine. And before she knew what was happening, Eliza was kissing Vincent…deeply and passionately….

‘I’m leaving…er.. tomorrow’, Eliza stammered a bit as she said that and she could see Vincent’s eyes getting even sharper as if he was trying to understand her mind.

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, Eurostar from Gare du Nord….11 in the morning’. That night she told him that one day she would try to return his 50 euros, the money he spent on her coffee for nearly a week….he laughed

‘You’ll meet me again, Eliza…won’t you? Vincent’s voice was breaking, as if he was almost losing a dream, his eyes were shining as ever possibly a bit moistened and his sharp curved lips were trembling a little. He was unsure of something and probably he didn’t even know what he was not sure of…

She turned to Vincent, looked into his eyes and replied, ‘Maybe’……waving at him she made her way to the train.

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