Parisian Encounter

Giselle sat at the small table in the bar at the Parisian restaurant where she waited for her date to arrive. Tonight’s party was in honor of Mr. Laurent, who was the owner and founder of Laurent’s, a large bookstore in Paris where both Giselle and Jacques worked. After twenty-five years, Mr. Laurent was retiring and allowing his son to assume leadership of the store. Besides employees from Laurent’s, other patrons who frequented the bookstore were also in attendance tonight.

Paris was a very busy city, as was Jacques, and it was quite possible he’d been held up by unforeseen events at work. At any rate, Giselle was sure that Jacques would be arriving shortly. He had promised her, after all, that tonight would be a very special first date for the two of them. They had been working together for nearly a year now at the store, but they had never been on a date before this evening’s planned event.

Despite sipping a glass of Merlau, or Merlot, a relatively new wine in Paris that was harvested from succulent grapes in the Bordeaux region, she could not quell the butterflies that flew about her stomach in anticipation as she waited. The wine was rich and velvety, while also fruity and spicy, and had become a favorite for her. As she continued to sip the drink, her attention was drawn to the corner where two men sat at a small table, drinking their forbidden drinks of absinthe while they talked. Whatever it was they were discussing, it was obvious that their conversation was intense and somewhat heated. One was a handsome, slender, tall, and blonde-haired gentleman, and the other was a bit shorter and stockier, with dark hair and a beard. Eventually, after becoming angry and frustrated during the discussion, the stockier gentleman rose from his seat and abruptly left.

Surprised by their public disagreement at such an event, Giselle quickly looked away toward the door in hopes of finding Jacques arriving, but such was not the case. When she turned back to glance at the remaining gentleman, he gave her a delightfully handsome smile and shrugged his shoulders. As she smiled somewhat timidly back at him, he picked up his drink and leisurely walked toward her.

“May I sit for a bit, my sweet? I fear my friend has suddenly left me alone, and I find myself in need of companionship,” he smiled charmingly as he took a seat at her table.

Giselle was a bit startled by the man’s boldness, but she didn't want to be rude. After all, there were many longtime patrons of the bookstore in attendance tonight. “Of course,” she said. “However, please know that my date will be arriving very shortly.”

“Lucky man,” the tall, blonde-haired gentleman said as he settled himself comfortably in the seat across from her. “I’m Scott,” he said with a beautiful smile that had obviously impressed many.

“Hello, Scott. I am Giselle,” she smiled back at him.

“So, you are waiting for your sweetheart, are you?” the man asked. It was obvious that he was American. “Your intended?”

“Oh, no!” Giselle quickly said and then shyly smiled. “It’s our first date after a long time of knowing one another. We work together, you see – at the bookstore.”

The man smiled ruefully and with exerted concentration, he said, “Love is so very splendid and beautiful when it’s fresh and new. And yet, as time morphs by, it so often becomes a damning element in our lives.” is smile fading to a frown. “I should know,” he added as he held up his left hand for her to see that he was married. “At best, you can’t live with it, and you can’t live without it.” The handsome smile returned with the last bit of information.

Giselle was uncertain how to respond. Who was this American and why did he have such a sad view of love? And why was he inclined to share it with her? It was obvious that he’d had more than enough to drink. Perhaps this is why he and his friend had argued.

“Sir,” she began, but he immediately interrupted her.

“Please, I must insist that you call me Scott,” he said, his eyes soft and kind as he appealed to her.

“Scott,” she said. “Perhaps you’ve had enough to drink for this evening. I thought that this drink was forbidden anyway,” Giselle whispered as she pointed at the milky, green drink. She knew that absinthe had been illegal in Paris since 1915, and yet, here this gentleman was drinking it a full ten years later as if it was not.

Scott looked down into his glass and smiled. “My sweet, young girl, only such intense pleasures are derived from the forbidden.”

Giselle blushed at his words and quickly attempted to change the subject. “Where is your wife tonight, sir…Scott?” she asked.

The man gave her a rueful smile. “I fear she finds her pleasures in the forbidden as well,” he said and then sighed. “Alas, she has taken off with her friends for more exciting times than intense, heated discussions between my friend and I – as you have just unfortunately witnessed.”

“I see,” Giselle said, genuinely sorry for this man’s current misfortune in life, friendship, and love.

“Really? Do you actually see?” Scott asked, intently watching her and awaiting her answer.

But unsure how to respond, Giselle once again attempted to deter the conversation from the question with which he had just presented her. “Why are you in Paris, Scott? Are you working here?” she asked.

“Paris is such a beautiful city, full of so many opportunities. I am here at present, attempting to write my latest novel, my dear, at least on good days. On bad days, like today, I drink and argue with my closest friend. And I suppose one could say that I tend to drink - and argue – quite frequently,” he said as he took a large swallow from his glass.

“Oh! You are a writer! What are your books about?” Giselle was genuinely interested.

Scott smiled a broad, attractive smile and nonchalantly leaned back in his chair. “Well, let’s see, Giselle. I mostly write about love. Don’t you find that a bit ironic in consideration of the view of it I’ve just painted for you?”

Giselle was indeed perplexed. It was odd that a man with such a dismal or disappointed view of love would choose to write about it.

“Well, let me explain my pretty, petite French flower,” he said as he leaned on his elbow across the table to look intently into her blue eyes. “I write about love, my dear, because I am a hopeless romantic, and I have not yet given up on achieving its fullest capacity in my life.” He sighed as he relaxed in the chair again and took a sip of his drink before he continued. “I have a need to know and understand love; to have it fill me to the depths of my being. In fact, I crave love with an intensity that extends beyond a need for food or sustenance of any kind.” He picked up his nearly empty drink and waved it in the air. “And believe it or not, I crave love more than I crave even this poison.”

Scott took another sip of his drink before he added, “Hope for such things springs eternal, does it not?”

Before Giselle could ponder an answer, however, she was saved as he suddenly rose and declared it was time for another drink before he headed to the bar. She watched as he ordered yet another absinthe drink. Before he could return, Jacques entered the café and immediately found and joined her at the small table.

She rose and kissed Jacques on the cheek. The smile she gave him assured him that she was very happy to see him.

“I am so sorry I am late, my sweet,” he said. “I was detained at work.”

Giselle smiled sweetly. “It is not a problem, Jacques. I am just happy to see you now.”

Giselle was more than pleased Jacques had at long last joined her and watched as he ordered a glass of wine from the bar. When he returned, she stood and they proceeded to mingle with others in the room, making small talk amongst the guests and other employees of the bookstore. Secretly, all Giselle longed for, however, was a few moments alone with Jacques, who was the only person in the room for whom she had eyes.

Much later, as the guests were beginning to depart, Jacques and Giselle stayed, offering to help tidy up a bit around the bar. In the midst of cleaning vacated tables of dishes and wiping them clean of debris, they stole a moment to sit at a small table as they smiled sweetly at one another, thankful for the few moments alone. However, after only a few minutes, the two potential lovers were interrupted as the stranger with whom Giselle had spoken much earlier in the evening stopped by their table to speak to Giselle again and meet her guest, a fresh drink of absinthe in his hand.

“I see your friend arrived as expected,” Scott said, and smiled at Jacques, extending his right hand and introducing himself.

“I fear I was a bit lonely for the moment, and I kept your sweet date entertained for a short while as she waited for your arrival,” Scott told Jacques. “We had a very thorough discussion on the subject of love, and I gave her my most earnest opinion on the matter.”

As Jacques’ brow rose in surprise and question, Scott continued. “I informed your sweet Giselle that I am a hopeless romantic and believe that love will eventually win the day for all of us. Ah, and I can see from the way you look at this delicate, beautiful French damsel, that it may very well be the case for the two of you.” Suddenly Scott became very serious and gave a gracious bow before he said, “I pray that may be the case here, and that love will triumph for the two of you like the lovely spring in Paris. I can see that it is already a flower nearing a full bloom.”

And then, as suddenly as he had appeared before them, he turned on his heel and headed to his former table where he was joined yet again by the gentleman with whom he’d been arguing earlier in the evening. The two friends now hugged, laughed, and patted each other on the back as they continued their deep conversation.

Giselle nervously eyed Jacques, who was looking at her in amazement.

“Jacques,” she began. “I did not know what to do when he approached and began to discuss such serious things like love. I found him to be a rather sad man, always hoping to find love in everything and everyone.”

Jacques continued to stare at her in disbelief. “Giselle,” he said. “Do you not know who that gentleman is?” he asked.

“No, I don’t have clue who he is. I know that his name is Scott, and I know he’s American, but that’s all.”

“My dear, sweet Giselle, that is none other than F. Scott Fitzgerald, the famous American novelist. And he is sitting with Ernest Hemingway, another very famous American writer. The two are well known throughout Paris for their carousing ways. They drink nothing but absinthe and champagne – or so the story goes.”

Giselle dubiously eyed her date. “F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway? I’m not sure that I know who they are,” she said. “However, Scott did tell me that he is a writer.” She stared at the two men as they conversed, a new view of Scott taking root in her mind. She would have to buy one of his books just to see how he wrote about that thing called love for which he continuously searched and hoped.

Giselle turned back to her date and smiled. “Famous American writer or no,” she said. “I would much rather be sitting here with you, Jacques, enjoying this wonderful Parisian night even if we do have to wipe tables after the party.”

Jacques picked up her slender hand and kissed it. “And I, with you, my sweet Giselle. But still, not just anyone can say that they had an evening interrupted by someone as well-known as F. Scott Fitzgerald. Perhaps you should consider picking up the trade and writing about such an incredulous story as this!”

Giselle shook her head and nodded toward F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway. “No, I don’t think so. I will leave the writing to the two of them,” she said and the couple laughed as they began the first night of many to come.

Indeed, a lifetime of love and special nights spent together would be forthcoming for Giselle and Jacques. And who can say for sure? Perhaps it was due to the ardent wish from none other than F. Scott Fitzgerald that their love was propelled to new heights as it triumphed to achieve the ultimate end desired by so many. Regardless, there is little doubt he would have been immensely pleased, and also a wee bit envious, of the love the two shared over the course of their lives together in the beautiful city of Paris.