The usual laughs, not often, but loud
And in the world that I knew
I didn’t know about you
I went for a walk on a rainy day, bored of my circle of friends. I finally had enough of clichéd remarks and practiced indifference. I literally needed a breath of fresh air.
It was past two on a drizzly afternoon, and I could have been anywhere in London or Paris, but I was here, in Toronto, on a downtown cul-de-sac, kicking through wet leaves.
Scraps of Maple and Oak were slowly adding to a Lethe of molten lava—and I was ankle-deep in russet leaves.
I bent down and picked up one beautiful red maple star—it was jagged and perfect. I couldn’t recall the last time I stopped to stare at the sky, let alone, bend down and pick up a leaf.
I hesitated a moment, then opened my topcoat and gently slid my treasure into the inner pocket.
Furtively, I glanced about as if guilty of some social faux pas, but found no eyes observing me. The street was deserted. Still, the gesture proved one thing—I had lived a restrained existence for too long.
There was a small restaurant nearby, surrounded by an elaborate iron railing and the dull candle light through the leaded windows looked inviting, so on a whim, I decided to go inside.
I asked for a window seat where I could savor the somber stillness of the lane outside. There was a fire bubbling cheerfully in the grate and a pianist playing moody café music in the background.
I ordered a bottle of cabernet and luxuriated in the solitude
The only sounds other than the comforting tic of rain against the windowpanes was the soft flutter of flames and tinkling piano music. I had found my cozy nook.
“Is this where you hide from the maddening crowd?”
I looked up and spotted Margaux Eaton who was almost invisible sitting in a shadowy alcove.
I must have looked dazed because she gave a soft laugh and said, “I hope I didn’t startle you, Dawes.”
I recovered my wits and manners. “Oh, hello Margaux—I didn’t see you sitting there in the shadows.”
“I didn’t want to invade your privacy, but politeness demanded I say something.”
“And I’m glad you did,” I lied, resigned to the end of my private reveries. “Would you care to join me?”
“I don’t want to intrude—are you waiting for someone?”
“No, nothing like that. The truth is I found myself with time on my hands and took a walk—and by chance, ended up here.”
Her face brightened, “That’s exactly what happened to me. I tried shopping, but the stores were crowded with people escaping the rain, so I decided to go where I knew no one would be—well, almost no one,” she smiled.
“Please, join me for a drink.”
She hesitated, “if you’re sure I won’t be interrupting.”
“A beautiful woman is never an interruption.”
As soon as I said it, I noticed she was indeed beautiful—why I hadn’t noticed that fact before was beyond me.
She came and sat down opposite me.
“What are you drinking?” she asked.
“Yellow Tail, Cabernet.”
She laughed, “So am I.”
I was honestly shocked. I suppose I envisioned her sipping at Chateau Margaux 2009 Balthazar, if for no other reason than its expense and her name.
I motioned for the waiter to bring her a new glass.
With an exaggerated flourish, I poured the red vintage. “I trust you will find this wine vibrant yet also rounded and smooth, Madame.”
“As if I care,” she laughed. “I’m basically a country girl at heart. I spend my weekends mucking out stalls at Daddy’s stables—and in return, I get to ride the horses.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right? You’re the heir to the Eaton fortune and you have to earn the right to ride your own horses?”
“No Silly—you make Daddy sound so Draconian. It’s my idea, actually. I love being around horses and I’ve always been a tomboy.”
I stared at her long red hair shining under the overhead pot lights—she was breathtakingly beautiful.
“Why haven’t we talked before?” I laughed.
“You mean, why haven’t you noticed me before? It’s simple really. I hate socializing and all the idle chitchat that goes with it. I suppose I’m no good at it, so I just avoid it.”
I sat back and stared at her in awe. She was lovely as the autumn outside, bright as the turning leaves
“I can’t believe it—I didn’t think anyone in our social circle would feel like me.”
“Do you like horses?”
“I like them—I love looking at them—but I don’t ride.”
“C’mon,” she teased, “You can’t tell me you’ve never been on a horse.”
“Well, I’ve been on one. I remember spending a miserable summer at The Caledon Hills Dude Ranch when I was in private school. I hated every minute of it.”
“Tell me how you really felt,” she smirked.
I colored, but figured I might as well be truthful. “Honestly, it was the worst summer of my life.”
“Really? I would have thought you’d enjoy the experience. You love being outdoors…” She plucked the red Maple leaf out of my jacket, “and you love fire and being alone.” She gestured at the flames burning in the grate and the deserted restaurant.
“There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely.”
Her eyes grew huge. “You’re not telling me your parents sent you to camp where you didn’t know anybody?”
I winced. “No, actually, I knew everyone—that was the problem—I didn’t fit in.”
She whistled softly. “I see. I get that. It’s kind of the way I feel at those social gatherings. I just want to blend into the walls.”
“Yeah, that’s the feeling exactly. Actually, that’s why I came here today—to get away—to step back and take a look at where I’m going.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
“Any chance you’d like some company while you’re figuring things out?”
Her eyes grew moist. “That would be very…nice.”
“I’m open to horse back riding,” I whispered.
© 2016, John J Geddes. All rights reserved