Page 46 of The Velvet Hours
“Wednesday,” I said.
He came closer and kissed me on both cheeks, and for the rest of the afternoon I held on to the sensation of his lips brushing against my skin. Like a girl holding a butterfly between cupped hands.
***
On Wednesday morning, I found Alex already at a table outside the café. It was November and although the air was damp, nearly all the tables were occupied. He was wearing a dark navy suit and a graycap pulled over his black hair. A copy ofLe Mondewas spread out over the table. His face was buried in the newspaper.
“Alex?”
He looked up and quickly shuffled the paper.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I got caught up in the headlines...”
I pulled out a chair and sat down.
He folded his newspaper and looked up at me again. “Well, I’m glad to see you. You’re far better for my eyes than what I was just reading in the paper.”
I smiled and began to unfasten the buttons of my coat.
“Thank you,” I laughed. “That’s fine praise, indeed.”
His eyes brightened, amused.
I looked around the café. The tables were filled with men in gray overcoats and caps. Some were already smoking their first cigarette of the morning, now that their coffee cups were empty.
“Do you come here often?” I asked.
“Yes, I like the fact that it’s far enough from home. I rarely run into anyone I know, and I can sit and read without any distraction.” A small sigh escaped from his lips. “It’s not pleasant to have to share the paper with my father and constantly hear all his thoughts of what might happen next with Hitler. The war has made everyone on edge.”
“I understand,” I said as I readjusted my scarf. “My father and I spend most of our time together glued to the radio.”
“You don’t hear the worst of it on the radio...” He took a sip from his water glass. “Solomon is my father’s true news report. He received a letter the other day from his brother back in Berlin. They write in code to each other to fool the censors. What he wrote was alarming.”
I looked down at the table, quietly.
“They rounded up a whole street. Men, women, and children, all carted away somewhere.”
I grew pale. “That’s horrible, Alex.”
“I know...” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tell you these things. If you find the radio upsetting, this is so much worse...”
He shook his head. “What do you say, we make a promise not to talk about the war this morning. Let’s try to forget it for at least an hour... I’m so tired of all the energy I spend imagining what’s going to happen tomorrow, next week, in a month’s time... What a joy it would be to have a coffee with a pretty girl and imagine nothing except how nice it would be to hold her hand.”
I could feel my cheeks grow warm.
“And now I’ve made you turn the color of your scarf!”
I laughed.
“I like you in red.” He smiled. “It becomes you.”
My fingers touched the edge of my scarf. “Thank you.” This morning I had made a concentrated effort on my appearance. All of my grandmother’s talk about her makeup and clothes had inspired me to make the most of my features. I thought the red of my scarf would be a striking contrast against my dark hair and eyes. I was glad it seemed to have pleased him.
“What would you like?” He motioned for the waiter’s attention.
“Just a coffee...” I wasn’t particularly hungry. I had felt butterflies in my stomach since I had gotten up that morning.
“And another cup for me,” he told the waiter before the man vanished inside.
