Cafe Romance (20 page)

After a late evening buttered popcorn snack and refreshing soda, Yvette stood up and said she was ready to head home. “As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end,” she chuckled, as she reached for her purse.

She turned and started to walk towards the door but Kurt stepped in front of her, presenting himself a sizable barrier between her and the door.

“They don’t have to come to an end, Yvette,” he said softly, leaning in towards her in an impromptu attempt to kiss her. Her perfume was mild but intoxicating to him.

Turning at the very last second, she managed to escape his lips but only partially. With her eyes averted, she said nothing. 

Undaunted, he made a second attempt to kiss her, and again, she turned away, this time biting her lip.

He paused to stare at her, confused, baffled, and dismayed at her hesitation.

“What’s wrong Yvette?” he asked, his brown eyes darkened with emotion, and belying a sadness about them that touched her when she finally looked his way. 

“Kurt, I’ve had a really great time this evening,” she began, even as a war of emotions raged within her.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he injected, as his eyes searched her face, reaching into her thoughts.

“Please, let me finish,” she cut him off gently, her heart throbbing wildly from his mesmerizing gaze and quick wit. “I’ve enjoyed my visit today. I had a truly wonderful time, matter-of-fact, a blast! I just need a little more time to absorb all of the extraordinary things I’ve been feeling lately. That’s all.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t let me kiss you?”

“Yes, that and the fact that you are still a married man.”

Feeling slightly rebuffed, he lowered his eyelids and turned his head aside. The woman had a valid point. This was one fact he could not argue away. No doubt she was playing for keeps and if he wanted to play, it would have to be for keeps as well.

He watched silently as she walked by him, paused, and kissed him on the cheek, then left out the door. Standing at the entrance of his motorhome, he watched her car fade from view. All was not lost. In his hand he held a wallet size photo of her, which she had just given to him. He looked at it and smiled. In the studio photo she was seated sideways on one of those director's type chairs. She was wearing an inviting smile and a seductive short black dress to match. Her shapely legs, clad in black nylon, were crossed at the knees. It instantly became one of his favorite photos, so much that he immediately scanned it and made it the main wallpaper on his computer screen.

The following week, the two headed over to Bush Gardens Amusement Park in Tampa Bay, Florida and crossed the bridge over into St Petersburg, Florida, a day later. The forecast that weekend was for a slight chance of afternoon showers. To their pleasant surprise, the weekend turned out to be clear and summer. It was a wonderful outing to spend with someone special, someone dear.

As they traveled from one tourist site to another, they often promenaded, hand-in-hand, pausing occasionally to flash each other a searching gaze. The highlight of their outing came when they bought ice cream cones. She bought a single scoop of cherry vanilla flavored ice cream while Kurt bought a double scoop waffle cone, one flavor butter-almond, the other butter-pecan.

As they sat quietly on a park bench, partaking of this delightful cold treat, and the balmy breeze, she could not help but marvel at the skillful manner in which he lapped at his ice cream, never letting the fast melting treat run down the cone too far from his caressing tongue. It was one of the most sensuous moments her gleaming eyes had ever witnessed, and she told him so. The impression was such that in her dreams that night she imagined herself being a large scoop of melting ice cream and Kurt the most skillful ice cream eater in the world.

Though they never mentioned the topic, or would ever admit it to the other, they were falling in love. Each passing day the deep feelings cultivating between them continued to flourish like wild flowers rooted in rich fertile soil. At one point, they were dining together at least four times a week. It was a delightful ritual and treat both looked forward to. In time, they became almost inseparable, it seemed, between the hours of noon and one. And occasionally, they would meet after work for dinner, usually on Fridays.

"Please forgive me, but I am so tired," she said, stifling a quick yawn. "It's been a long week and just as long a day on the job."

"Hey, I feel the same way," he said, looking around to see if the server was bringing their order. They were seated at one of Yvette's favorite seafood restaurants. This was his second visit here with her. Looking around, he spied the waiter carrying a large serving tray loaded with food and walking towards them. He immediately stopped fiddling around with his spoon and sat erect in his chair. Yvette's relief was visible, too. When the server arrived, she apologized for the long wait but quickly added that Kurt's trout dinner had been freshly prepared and cooked, as every item on the menu was. His just took a little longer.

Leaning over them, the server placed Yvette's grilled shrimp and lobster meal before her, along with a small dish of melted butter sauce. Next she placed his ocean trout platter on the cloth table, along with a small dish of island herb tomato sauce. The server whirled off and returned shortly with a bottle of wine, and poured it gingerly into the two wine goblets on the cloth-covered table. Then she vanished again.

"Oh my, this is so delicious, Kurt," she said, savoring another bite of the broiled shrimp, which she had lightly coated in the seasoned butter sauce. "You care to try one?" she asked him thoughtfully.

"Sure, why not," he smiled. "Care to try my trout?"

"As you just said, why not?Just a small piece, please." 

The two lifted their forks to the other's mouth and fed each other a sampling of their savory seafood. Locked in a deep searching gaze they broke free long enough to nod in agreement that the food was as delectable to the palate as it looked and the Mediterranean cooked aroma it gave off.

After dessert they left the restaurant and drove over to Yvette's place where the two attempted to watch a Dorothy Dandridge classic movie,
Carmen Jones
, starring Dorothy, a young handsome Harry Belafonte, the singer turned actress Pearl Bailey, and a young and beautiful rising star named Diahann Carroll. Earlier in the day, a more energetic Yvette had planned on hosting a Dorothy Dandridge movie marathon, once she discovered that Kurt was a devoted fan, too. In addition to
Carmen Jones
she rented Samuel Goldwyn's
Porgy and Bess
, starring Dorothy, Sidney Portier, Sammy Davis, Jr., Pearl Bailey, and Diahann Carroll;
Island in the Sun
, starring Dorothy, James Mason, Harry Belafonte, Joan Fontaine, and the British born actor John Justin. The marathon was a great idea, at the time, but both were beyond tired and barely managed to make it through
Carmen Jones
. 

Rising up off of the chair, Kurt broke into a cheerful smile. It had been a perfect evening and he told her so. She shared his sentiment.

Kurt was about to leave when her phone rang, startling them both. By the way she clutched the phone in her hand, and by her measured tone and uneasy posture, he quickly gathered that it was Antwan on the other end of the line. A minute later, she politely ended the call but was unable to keep Kurt from hearing her tell the caller that she would call him back in a little while.

Yvette gazed over at him and saw him biting his lower lip, his eyes belying a thoughtfulness that told her one thing. As a preemptive measure she approached Kurt, with a warm smile, and softly said, "Please, don't even go there."

Kurt responded incredulously, "Go where? I didn't utter a word," he chuckled, in an attempt to brush the matter off.

"Oh, but I saw that look in your eyes," she returned in jest, though quite serious at heart. "Look, Antwan and I are just friends, as I've told you before," she noted. "He just happened to have been there for me when I needed someone to talk to and get some things done. I've tried my best to be there for him, that's all."

Kurt shrugged, almost defensively, saying, "Look, I know where you are going with this but as hard as it may be for you to believe, I understand. Yvette, I'm not the jealous type, believe me." He knew he was lying through his teeth.

Looking into his gaze a second time, she solemnly said, "Okay, but I’m going to hold you to that."

Though he put on his best smile before departing, she noticed that the smile he was wearing earlier was now gone. Damn, of all the nights Antwan could have called, she thought. To top it off, Kurt made no effort to kiss her before leaving. Hopefully it was just a minor setback for them.

After ejecting the movie and replacing it in its protective casing, she walked over to the phone and like the true friend she was, returned Antwan's call.

I
n the quiet shadowy confines of his motorhome Kurt contemplated Yvette’s reciprocal based relationship with his rival Antwan. As spirited and true his feelings for her rang, he was not so emotionally absorbed that he could not detect a sense of mutual admiration and trust between them that rivaled his own for her. But was she being entirely truthful with him, he pondered? He was hoping that she was.

About to call it a day, he paused when his newly purchased cell phone rang. It was his beloved grandmother who helped raised him. She had called to chat and to find out if he had been eating well. He could never convince his Grandma that he was not ten pounds underweight, as she convinced herself he was.

For the next thirty minutes he reassured her that he was doing just fine. It had been nearly five months since he last saw his grandmother. He missed her and her family famous sweet potato pie. The woman could bake. Could cook too.

Though she claimed to be doing well, Kurt could detect in her voice something subtle, something not quite right. “Grandma, nothing would please me more than you letting me arrange for you to fly down to Florida for a visit,” he pleaded with her. But she declined his offer in her own small town folksy way, as she said, “Kurt, your grandma’s far too old to start flying, now that I’ve made it this far in life. Naah, I think I’m going to just stay put.”

No problem. “I’ll just fly up to New Jersey this weekend to be with you,” he told her.

Switching off the desk lamp he retreated into the bedroom. There he tossed and turned restlessly until he finally sank into a deep sleep.

T
renton, New Jersey. A mid-size water front city situated along the lengthy Delaware River, just north of the vast metropolis known as Philadelphia. For the first seventeen years of his life this was home to Kurt. Now it had become a place that harbored old friends and loved ones, along with a few special memories. One in particular for him.

The flight was non-eventful for the most part, though a small pocket of turbulence greeted the DC10 several miles out from its evening approach but overall, it amounted to nothing more than a little rattle. Kurt had forgotten to charge his cell phone, so he made his way through the busy terminal hunting down a pay phone. He eventually found one off to the side of the wide lavender–colored corridor.

After he fumbled for change in his pants pocket, he hugged the phone between his ear and his shoulder, then rifled through his carryon bag until he found his wallet size electronic organizer. Squinting, he read off the phosphorous green color phone number to Augusta Rental Car services. He dialed it and the professional voice of a woman greeted him and assured him that his rental was ready and that an airport limousine would be there to pick him up inside of twenty minutes. He phoned Yvette to let her know that he had arrived safely. He also gave her the phone number to Grandma’s house. She promised to phone him later in the day.

The late model Grand Prix Sport Edition handled well, a far cry from riding his bike in Florida. The car had a lot of kick to it. A 350-horse power engine. Six cylinders. Twin exhaust. The sound system was top of the line, too. Alpine. 

Traffic was heavy. It was a six lane crawl for the better part of twenty minutes. Only then did things begin to loosen up. Driving in severe traffic was never a favorite part of his trips up north. It was too much of an unnecessary challenge for him, every damned mile of the way.

Less than thirty minutes later he pulled up onto the wide asphalt driveway of his beloved grandma, who resided in the eighty-six thousand dollar home he had purchased exclusively for her on her seventieth birthday. The two-story stone cottage house was exactly what she had in mind when the two went out to look for a house after his spectacular windfall.

Though he would have easily put her in a two million dollar home, she would not hear of such extravagance and self-indulgence. She lived a comfortable life of humble moderation all of her life. She wasn’t about to sell her soul to the devil now just because Kurt got a little lucky at the game of chance. Naah, she was too close to the Kingdom of God, the King of Kings, and the land of milk and honey, to start getting materialistic.

“Hello, darl’n,” she greeted her devoted grandson with an enthusiastic but weak hug. “Grandma is so happy to see you. How was the plane ride?”

“Pretty smooth,” he replied warmly as he embraced her frail frame.

“Here, rest yourself,” she urged, as she ushered him over to the kitchen table. Pine it was. She had gotten it on sale a month earlier using some of the money he had sent her.

Sitting down, he took a moment to look around to see if anything had changed since she moved in. He also took time to savor the delicious aroma of the sweet potato pie baking inside of the oven. It delighted him that she had remembered his favorite dessert.

“Man, that sweet potato pie smells good, grandma!” he said, feeling like the young boy who used to stand around her table while she cooked his meals or baked a cake or pie. “One of the things I love about you is that you always remember my favorite pie.”

She smiled. “That’s because I know how much you look forward to my pies and my cooking.”