Rather surprised at the unexpected kiss and attempt at unbuttoning my blouse, I blurted out something like, hey, who do you think you are; I didnít offer you a green apple, much less a red one!
He didnít apologize, instead he smiled and said, ďSince when is a husband not permitted to kiss his wifeĒ. With that we both started laughing. He reached into his pocket, gave me back my ten dollars, saying that it had been a pleasure to help a maiden in distress, and then drove the six miles to bring me home.
While unlocking my back door, I was counting my blessings that nothing had gone wrong, he hadnít tried to rape me, nor did he drive us into a ditch, instead he drove me home and then walked back to town during a heavy snow storm. Yes Lady Luck had been on my side, or my guardian angels had been looking out for me.
I didnít give the neck nuzzling incident much thought other than thinking Iíd been extremely fortunate that he hadnít push himself upon me and how kind he had been to drive me home.
A few days later while preparing to do a washing I checked to make sure there was nothing inside my pockets, and there it was, the ten dollar bill nicely folded with his address scribbled on it.
59 A, rue Principale Ouest.
I carefully hid the bill in a side pocket of my purse, smiling, and at the same time, remembering the kiss. I shuttered remembering that it had actually felt delightful, more delightful than I cared to admit, yet, I also felt somewhat guilty for having enjoyed it.
Mr. R started work at the hospital, and to my dismay, worked on Saturdays. Living out in the country made it difficult to find a sitter, so for the next couple of months dancing was out of question, and all the while, Mr. R was becoming more and more verbally abusive.
Spring rolled around and Mr. Rís schedule changed, Thursdays and Fridays were his days off, so Friday became my night out with the girls.
Seeing that my cousin Gail had started work at one of the pizza joints in town, I decided to pop in and have myself a slice with a side order of fries. It was a very busy night and she didnít have a spare moment to chat, so I decided to pay my bill and to head back home.
As Iím standing by the cash register, waiting to pay my bill, I happened to look out the large picture window, and what did I see but a large civic address, 59A!
Gail came to collect my money, and the next thing I know is that Iím ordering a piece of apple pie to take out, and to borrow her pen.
I crossed the street, climbed the stairs, placed the apple pie in front of the waiterís door, including a short note saying, Ďapple pie, made with fresh RED applesĎ, and signed with a smiley face.
My heart felt like it was going to burst through my sweater, it was pumping like there was no tomorrow and I knew it had nothing to do with climbing up those stairs. It was because I knew exactly what I was doing and of the possible consequences.
March turned into April and no waiter to be seen, he no longer worked at the disco and I had no idea of where he was or if he still lived in town. To some degree I felt relief, no waiter meant not having to deal with my Ďapple pieí insinuation, yet, for some insane reason he was ever present in the back of my mind.
I would cycle into town at every available opportunity, I would make a point of lingering in front of his apartment but on the opposite side of the street, I didnít want it to look like I was waiting for him, I didnít want to be that obvious.
Day after day, no waiter to be seen; I finally accepted that he had either moved or that he didnít appreciate my apple pie gesture and had no intention of following through with my outlandish offer.
End of April, a beautiful Saturday afternoon, Iíd been out cycling and was headed back in the direction of home when I heard someone call out Suzanne, not sure if it was for me or someone else, I came to a complete stop in front of the Union Hotel, and low and behold who comes running across the street but Denis, the waiter.
He asked me if Iíd like to have drink with him, and I accepted. He had a beer, I, a lemonade. I did not mention the apple pie and neither did he.
We chatted over a couple of lemonades, he told me that he had landed himself a job in Chambly and that heíd be there until the start of next semester. He also mentioned that heíd be coming back every now and then to pay his half of rent as his sister had moved in and was sharing the apartment with him.
Time seemed to gotten away from us, I have to admit it had been a very enjoyable afternoon, one that somehow left me feeling sad as I had to get back home.
As I stood on the sidewalk getting ready to mount my bike, he asked if I was free on the 3rd of May, I asked why, he answered that maybe we could get together and enjoy the apple pie!
I know I blushed, I could feel the heat in my face, he smile, I looked down at my feet and asked what time and where.
As luck would have it, Shawn Phillip was giving a concert at the University that night, I already had my ticket, Mrs. CC was coming with me, so getting out of the house was no big deal.
However, what I was about to get myself into, was! ............... <Next>