4
“As I recall when you were twenty-three you were intent on
becoming an actress.”
“Well, I did act a bit in London but I kept on thinking that
what I really wanted to do
was write. Do you still write at all?”
“That’s why I want to teach at Western. Only two classes and
higher pay. I will have more time to write. How long will you be in
Port Stanley?”
“A week I think.”
“I thought I would never marry after you.”
“Why not?” I fondly asked.
“I never thought I would meet anyone I liked as much as you I
guess.”
I was silent.
“That was one of the most important relationships in my life.
Did you love your wife?”
“Not the way I loved you. Are you in love with Jean-Pierre?”
I felt a lot of mixed feelings. Where was this leading?
“Yes, I was. Now I’m just sort of comfortable.”
We had finished our dinner.
“Let’s take a walk, “ said Paul. The mood was distinctly
pregnant with possibilities.
“Paul,” I asked quietly. “Are you still in love with me?”
“Yes,” he replied, “I suppose I am. But you seem to be
spoken for. Still I’m so glad that I’ve met you. I often wonder what
you’re doing and what you look like. Are you happy?”
“ Oh I have things to be happy about. My writing. Jean-
Pierre is a good companion.”
“I went to Europe last year you know and like you I loved
Paris and Rome and Florence. These were my three favourites. But I
like it here too you know. Where are you staying?”
“Oh I have a little B and B near the beach. Cabins”
“ I’m staying at an inn. You should come see it. It’s quite
the place.”
5
“Not tonight. Let’s just go to a little patio behind the Kettle Creek
Inn and have a glass of wine and talk some more. It’s one of my
favourite spots. It’s a warm evening too.
“Will you be teaching anything else besides the Victorian
Novel?”
“Yes one other course in the Romantic poets.”
“ Which do you prefer?”
“I like teaching them both really. I write poetry and novels so
they are both pretty interesting for me. Do you work or can you
support yourself with your writing?”
“Well, I was teaching English but now I have a job as a writer in
residence at one of the libraries. I still
have lots of time to write.”
“Do you like it?”
“I like it. Often I get a student that I can become friends with.”
“And what are you reading these days?”
“ Usually books that take place in Paris. And you?”
“Just finished another Allistir Macleod book.”
We sat in the gazebo and ordered a bottle of French wine. Old
lovers. An historic meeting.
We spent the week together, swimming at the beach, visiting
the little art galleries, renting a sailboat one day. Yes I was unfaithful
to Jean-Pierre. I couldn’t help it. Paul and I had such an
overwhelming attraction for one another. But where was this
heading? Paul wanted me to leave Jean-Pierre. It did not seem
entirely impossible. I was so swept away by my feelings for Paul. All
the old passion came back.
Neither of us got any writing done. We mainly just talked and
enjoyed each other’s company and a happiness I hadn’t felt in years
came over me. A happiness just to be with Paul, my first great love.
Reader, I married him. And haven’t looked back. He got the job
at Western, we bought a house in Port Stanley and commuted daily
to London. And I will say lived happily ever after - oh well, more
happily.
Jean-Pierre was a little surprised, to say the least, but he recovered
and is now living with another woman he met at yoga class. So it all
worked out in the end. My happiness took a long time coming but come it did.
Of Spain
Of Spain, I recall Barcelona,
the hanging ham cafes,
art nouveau facades,
the sunshine, oh the sunshine,
after a sodden English winter
the Gaudi cathedral, curious,
a pristine beach,
swimming nude in Ibiza
an Argentinian restaurant,
a decadent dessert,
the brilliant scarves of the men,
a white-washed fonda,
a maroon-eyed dog by a maroon door,
chess at night by the sea,
the March winds,
the sea breeze