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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Life Experience
- Published: 09/05/2012
A Winters' Day
Born 1960, M, from Montreal, Canada.jpg)
A Winters’ Day
They left the movie theatre and walked out into the noise of the evening traffic. For a moment they stood in the cold blowing snow watching the crowd of evening movie goers walk out of the theatre lost in the thoughts of their everyday life.
‘So', she suddenly said, turning to her better half, though she rather preferred to refer to him as nothing more than her other half, 'what’do...you think; travel abroad or travel at home first?’
A blue gypsy cab drove up alongside the curb, coming to a sudden stop alongside the curb in front of the theatre… ‘Do you need a taxi…?’ the voice shouted out through the partially opened window.
John looked up and out towards the street, through the blowing snow ‘Yes’ he shouted out.
‘Good, get in,' a dark haired taxi driver answered in a nervous hurried tone.
‘Depois de você' John said as he opened the back door of the car.
She smiled, a little amused but not surprised ‘okay it can wait’ she answered as she stepped into the car.
The gypsy cab sped off down the Avenue, past the old concert hall, over the steel bridge towards their favorite restaurant where they would sit at their favourite booth. Their waiter for tonight would be Jerry, a new employee. His patience and skill at serving was to be tested tonight by Mary and John William.
He approached their table with some trepidation, ‘Hello he announced, my name is Jerry,' he uttered in a nervous tone. 'I’ll be your waiter for tonight, would you like anything from the bar before dinner?’ he asked, the nervousness slowly becoming apparent on the sides of his brow.
‘Yes’ she said as she reached over the table for the wine menu, 'I feel a little adventuresome tonight, what would you suggest?’
John looked at her with a blank expression… ‘Madame,' he answered, trying to be polite, 'you are feeling what tonight?’
She looked and saw the pale expression on Jerry’s face. ‘I’m feeling a little adventuresome,' she said grinning. 'do you have a nice wine that would appeal to my somewhat impetuous sense of adventure?'
John stood for a moment staring at the short list of wines on the restaurant’s wine menu. 'There is,' he started with some hesitation, 'a nice wine grown from the fickle pinot noir grape,’ he suggested.
‘Yes,' she answered looking at the wine menu, 'but I said I was feeling adventurous not indecisive. there,' she continued, pointing to a darling inexpensive red wine from the Sierra foothills, 'I think I will choose this one, thank you.’
‘Very good,' Jerry said, 'and you sir…?' he asked looking at John, who seemed lost in the pages of the beer menu, 'would you like something to drink before dinner?’
‘Yes, I think I’ll have a beer, no wait, I think I’ll have…never mind a beer will do’’ he finally said.
‘and what kind of beer would you like?’ Jerry asked.
He looked up at the waiter and then at the menu and then once more at the waiter, 'what would you suggest?’ he finally asked.
Jerry stood silent for a moment, the nervousness now apparent on his brow. ‘well… sir,' he finally said, hesitantly, 'I think the Abita Amber would be a nice choice, it has a malty, slightly caramel taste and a …'
‘Well maybe,' John interrupted as he slid his finger down the page until he came across a name that was to his liking… 'this one will do just fine’.
John leaned over the table and looked at John’s finger, which appeared to have stopped on one of two possibilities, ‘which one would that be, sir?' Jerry asked, 'the Hopping Frog Silk Porter or the Flying Dog Old Scratch Amber?’
John looked up at the waiter, wondering why his chose wasn’t clear to Jerry… ‘why; the Hopping Frog Silk Porter.’ John answered closing the pages of the menu with his somewhat large rugged fingers.
‘Yes… very good, sir’ Jerry answered picking up the menus from the table. … ‘Phew’ he mumbled to himself as he walked away from the table, 'what way to start a new job; serving the owners of the restaurant.’
‘Well,' Mary said after watching in utter frustration her other half order his beer, 'what do you think, travel abroad before traveling at home or traveling at home before traveling abroad, which should it be?’
He looked up at her a little perplexed. ‘why do you ask…are we planning a trip?’
‘No, I was just wondering if you had any thoughts on the subject.’
‘No, I can’t say that I do, but if I find any, I’ll certainly share them with you’ he answered picking up his glass of beer.
‘Please do,' she answered, 'I would greatly appreciate any thoughts you might muster together, however they might be related.'
John looked around the restaurant, while he listened to the sounds of the French trumpet playing off in the distance, the thought passing through his mind in a rather slow casual manner, making many stops along the way. It would be at one of these stops when a question would occur to him… What, he asked himself, at this particular junction in his thought process, difference could it possibly make if we were to travel abroad before traveling here in our own country? was there some dark unknown mystery he should unravel… some hidden danger, a great peril he should be aware of?
She sat quietly, watching him, a little amused by the expression on his face, wondering if it she should push on with her inquiry or wait for a more opportune time.
‘Would you like another drink?’ a nervous voice asked, interrupting the thought process of John. It seemed just as well, neither was quite prepared to pursue their intentions: Mary, her inquiry … or John his deliberations’ concerning this inquiry, at least until they had begun to eat. after all, these inquires, she concluded, required a considerable amount of fuel.
‘No,' Mary answered looking up at Jerry… 'will dinner be ready anytime soon?’
‘I will go and see’ Jerry answered, moving away from the table with some caution, the nervousness returning.
‘Please do’ Mary insisted with a smile, tapping gently on the table with her fingers.
Jerry returned shortly… ‘Your Bronx burger, Madame,' he said, hoping the designation would not be misunderstood, 'and you, sir, your steak and baked potato, will that be all?’ he asked hoping for a quick retreat.
‘Yes, you’re new here, aren’t you?’ Mary said foiling Jerry’s quick retreat.
‘Yes, he said, feeling the sweat begin to bead down his brow… I started this week.
She looked up at him and smiled, ‘you’re doing a great job…thanks, now please do leave; you are making me more nervous than I care to be.’ she answered looking away.
John had begun to eat his meal, when a thought occurred to him; it started off as nothing more than a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, becoming what he believed would be the answer to the puzzlement his dearest had been so king as to offer to him as a starting point to their dinner. But first he would finish his meal; after all, such riddles required a considerable amount of fuel.
'Culture' …he finally blurted out; 'if,' he continued, quite convinced he had unraveled this riddle, 'we were to travel first in other countries we could compare ours to theirs and theirs to ours' …but wait, there was a fatal flaw in fact, perhaps more than one. First, he thought, as the idea of culture roamed in his mind, I don’t really know what they mean by culture, and why, he asked himself, haven't I found the second fatal flaw. would traveling abroad first make any difference?...'Culture, yes…' John said, 'culture,’ no longer convinced of his discovery.
‘On the other hand…’
‘No…no,' John insisted, solely on the grounds of sheer frustration, 'there can be no other hand.’
She looked at him no less amused than ever … 'but John …what about people who have come abroad to find a new start, a new home.’
‘What…' he asked becoming more bewildered with each passing moment, 'what about them…are you thinking of moving?’
NO… John, she answered, feeling a little less amused with each passing moment... I don’t want to move, I was just thinking about our parents, about their trip.’
‘Our parents, their trip,' he said, feeling a little anxious… 'what trip, they never went anywhere… You’re not thinking of moving are you?’ he blurted out.
‘No, their trip …when they moved here …to this country. I was just thinking about them, how it must have been for them crossing the ocean, arriving here broke, no relatives to help them. I was just wondering…’ she said looking out through the window of their restaurant.
‘What made you think of that?’ he asked reaching over for his glass of beer.
‘I was looking at the photo of Ellis Island they gave us,' she answered… 'it looked so cold out there…do you remember what year it was?’
‘It was 1916’ he said, just a few months before the government made that law about reading and writing.’
‘I remember… they talked a lot about those reading tests… always saying how they lucky they were because they didn’t know a word in English.’
‘It certainly was hard for them’ he said looking out through the window … 'wonder if they ever had any regrets?’
‘I don’t think so' she answered looking up at John … 'even if they did have a hard time of it …they never seemed to complain ’.
‘No, I never heard them complain, they seemed …’
‘How long has it been, she asked, since they passed away?’
‘It’s been a few years, now’ John answered fiddling with his glass of beer.
‘Maybe we could visit the island, or the maybe along the river, to see...’
John sat quietly in his chair, twirling the empty glass of beer on the table top, ‘when did you want to go?’
‘This evening …? It’s still early … we could get a taxi and drive down to the park along the river, it wouldn’t take very long.’
‘You mean now?’ John asked, suddenly stopping his glass of beer in mid-flight.
‘Yes, I don’t want to make any plans, I just want to go.’
Jerry scampered over to their table, wondering if he had forgotten something, ‘Yes’ Jerry said feeling a little light headed.
‘Okay….’ John answered waving to Jerry. ‘Would you call us a taxi?’
‘Yes, right away.’ Jerry answered, sighing in relief… is Yellow Cab okay?’
‘That’s fine…’ John answered looking at his empty glass of beer.
They got up from their table and put on their coats, ‘we can wait outside' he said to Mary, 'the taxi shouldn’t take too long.’
The yellow cab drove up alongside them ‘did you want a taxi?’ a young voice called out through the open window.
‘Yes', John answered, 'to Battery Park, please.’
‘Yes’ the young driver answered, looking out through the car window at the blowing snow. They arrived at their destination just as the sun began to set. ‘Battery Park’ the young driver announced through the small opening in the glass partition.
They stepped out from the car and began to walk towards the river, protecting their faces from the blowing snow. As they walked towards the river, a silhouette of the statue appeared off in the distance; it stood, unbending, in the cold winter winds.
Mary stood quietly next to John, looking out through the blowing snow at the silhouette of the statue; it seemed such a welcoming sight in this cold winter blizzard. For a moment they stood trying to imagine that day when their parents arrived.
Mary took out the old black and white photo, its edges worn and brittle, and looked at it, ‘John… she asked …can you see the island?’
‘No' John answered, looking out over the river at the blowing snow; 'I can barely see the statue.’
‘Maybe we should go home', Mary said as she put the photo into her pocket, 'this winter storm is too harsh for my old bones.’
A Winters' Day(Bernard Renaud)
A Winters’ Day
They left the movie theatre and walked out into the noise of the evening traffic. For a moment they stood in the cold blowing snow watching the crowd of evening movie goers walk out of the theatre lost in the thoughts of their everyday life.
‘So', she suddenly said, turning to her better half, though she rather preferred to refer to him as nothing more than her other half, 'what’do...you think; travel abroad or travel at home first?’
A blue gypsy cab drove up alongside the curb, coming to a sudden stop alongside the curb in front of the theatre… ‘Do you need a taxi…?’ the voice shouted out through the partially opened window.
John looked up and out towards the street, through the blowing snow ‘Yes’ he shouted out.
‘Good, get in,' a dark haired taxi driver answered in a nervous hurried tone.
‘Depois de você' John said as he opened the back door of the car.
She smiled, a little amused but not surprised ‘okay it can wait’ she answered as she stepped into the car.
The gypsy cab sped off down the Avenue, past the old concert hall, over the steel bridge towards their favorite restaurant where they would sit at their favourite booth. Their waiter for tonight would be Jerry, a new employee. His patience and skill at serving was to be tested tonight by Mary and John William.
He approached their table with some trepidation, ‘Hello he announced, my name is Jerry,' he uttered in a nervous tone. 'I’ll be your waiter for tonight, would you like anything from the bar before dinner?’ he asked, the nervousness slowly becoming apparent on the sides of his brow.
‘Yes’ she said as she reached over the table for the wine menu, 'I feel a little adventuresome tonight, what would you suggest?’
John looked at her with a blank expression… ‘Madame,' he answered, trying to be polite, 'you are feeling what tonight?’
She looked and saw the pale expression on Jerry’s face. ‘I’m feeling a little adventuresome,' she said grinning. 'do you have a nice wine that would appeal to my somewhat impetuous sense of adventure?'
John stood for a moment staring at the short list of wines on the restaurant’s wine menu. 'There is,' he started with some hesitation, 'a nice wine grown from the fickle pinot noir grape,’ he suggested.
‘Yes,' she answered looking at the wine menu, 'but I said I was feeling adventurous not indecisive. there,' she continued, pointing to a darling inexpensive red wine from the Sierra foothills, 'I think I will choose this one, thank you.’
‘Very good,' Jerry said, 'and you sir…?' he asked looking at John, who seemed lost in the pages of the beer menu, 'would you like something to drink before dinner?’
‘Yes, I think I’ll have a beer, no wait, I think I’ll have…never mind a beer will do’’ he finally said.
‘and what kind of beer would you like?’ Jerry asked.
He looked up at the waiter and then at the menu and then once more at the waiter, 'what would you suggest?’ he finally asked.
Jerry stood silent for a moment, the nervousness now apparent on his brow. ‘well… sir,' he finally said, hesitantly, 'I think the Abita Amber would be a nice choice, it has a malty, slightly caramel taste and a …'
‘Well maybe,' John interrupted as he slid his finger down the page until he came across a name that was to his liking… 'this one will do just fine’.
John leaned over the table and looked at John’s finger, which appeared to have stopped on one of two possibilities, ‘which one would that be, sir?' Jerry asked, 'the Hopping Frog Silk Porter or the Flying Dog Old Scratch Amber?’
John looked up at the waiter, wondering why his chose wasn’t clear to Jerry… ‘why; the Hopping Frog Silk Porter.’ John answered closing the pages of the menu with his somewhat large rugged fingers.
‘Yes… very good, sir’ Jerry answered picking up the menus from the table. … ‘Phew’ he mumbled to himself as he walked away from the table, 'what way to start a new job; serving the owners of the restaurant.’
‘Well,' Mary said after watching in utter frustration her other half order his beer, 'what do you think, travel abroad before traveling at home or traveling at home before traveling abroad, which should it be?’
He looked up at her a little perplexed. ‘why do you ask…are we planning a trip?’
‘No, I was just wondering if you had any thoughts on the subject.’
‘No, I can’t say that I do, but if I find any, I’ll certainly share them with you’ he answered picking up his glass of beer.
‘Please do,' she answered, 'I would greatly appreciate any thoughts you might muster together, however they might be related.'
John looked around the restaurant, while he listened to the sounds of the French trumpet playing off in the distance, the thought passing through his mind in a rather slow casual manner, making many stops along the way. It would be at one of these stops when a question would occur to him… What, he asked himself, at this particular junction in his thought process, difference could it possibly make if we were to travel abroad before traveling here in our own country? was there some dark unknown mystery he should unravel… some hidden danger, a great peril he should be aware of?
She sat quietly, watching him, a little amused by the expression on his face, wondering if it she should push on with her inquiry or wait for a more opportune time.
‘Would you like another drink?’ a nervous voice asked, interrupting the thought process of John. It seemed just as well, neither was quite prepared to pursue their intentions: Mary, her inquiry … or John his deliberations’ concerning this inquiry, at least until they had begun to eat. after all, these inquires, she concluded, required a considerable amount of fuel.
‘No,' Mary answered looking up at Jerry… 'will dinner be ready anytime soon?’
‘I will go and see’ Jerry answered, moving away from the table with some caution, the nervousness returning.
‘Please do’ Mary insisted with a smile, tapping gently on the table with her fingers.
Jerry returned shortly… ‘Your Bronx burger, Madame,' he said, hoping the designation would not be misunderstood, 'and you, sir, your steak and baked potato, will that be all?’ he asked hoping for a quick retreat.
‘Yes, you’re new here, aren’t you?’ Mary said foiling Jerry’s quick retreat.
‘Yes, he said, feeling the sweat begin to bead down his brow… I started this week.
She looked up at him and smiled, ‘you’re doing a great job…thanks, now please do leave; you are making me more nervous than I care to be.’ she answered looking away.
John had begun to eat his meal, when a thought occurred to him; it started off as nothing more than a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, becoming what he believed would be the answer to the puzzlement his dearest had been so king as to offer to him as a starting point to their dinner. But first he would finish his meal; after all, such riddles required a considerable amount of fuel.
'Culture' …he finally blurted out; 'if,' he continued, quite convinced he had unraveled this riddle, 'we were to travel first in other countries we could compare ours to theirs and theirs to ours' …but wait, there was a fatal flaw in fact, perhaps more than one. First, he thought, as the idea of culture roamed in his mind, I don’t really know what they mean by culture, and why, he asked himself, haven't I found the second fatal flaw. would traveling abroad first make any difference?...'Culture, yes…' John said, 'culture,’ no longer convinced of his discovery.
‘On the other hand…’
‘No…no,' John insisted, solely on the grounds of sheer frustration, 'there can be no other hand.’
She looked at him no less amused than ever … 'but John …what about people who have come abroad to find a new start, a new home.’
‘What…' he asked becoming more bewildered with each passing moment, 'what about them…are you thinking of moving?’
NO… John, she answered, feeling a little less amused with each passing moment... I don’t want to move, I was just thinking about our parents, about their trip.’
‘Our parents, their trip,' he said, feeling a little anxious… 'what trip, they never went anywhere… You’re not thinking of moving are you?’ he blurted out.
‘No, their trip …when they moved here …to this country. I was just thinking about them, how it must have been for them crossing the ocean, arriving here broke, no relatives to help them. I was just wondering…’ she said looking out through the window of their restaurant.
‘What made you think of that?’ he asked reaching over for his glass of beer.
‘I was looking at the photo of Ellis Island they gave us,' she answered… 'it looked so cold out there…do you remember what year it was?’
‘It was 1916’ he said, just a few months before the government made that law about reading and writing.’
‘I remember… they talked a lot about those reading tests… always saying how they lucky they were because they didn’t know a word in English.’
‘It certainly was hard for them’ he said looking out through the window … 'wonder if they ever had any regrets?’
‘I don’t think so' she answered looking up at John … 'even if they did have a hard time of it …they never seemed to complain ’.
‘No, I never heard them complain, they seemed …’
‘How long has it been, she asked, since they passed away?’
‘It’s been a few years, now’ John answered fiddling with his glass of beer.
‘Maybe we could visit the island, or the maybe along the river, to see...’
John sat quietly in his chair, twirling the empty glass of beer on the table top, ‘when did you want to go?’
‘This evening …? It’s still early … we could get a taxi and drive down to the park along the river, it wouldn’t take very long.’
‘You mean now?’ John asked, suddenly stopping his glass of beer in mid-flight.
‘Yes, I don’t want to make any plans, I just want to go.’
Jerry scampered over to their table, wondering if he had forgotten something, ‘Yes’ Jerry said feeling a little light headed.
‘Okay….’ John answered waving to Jerry. ‘Would you call us a taxi?’
‘Yes, right away.’ Jerry answered, sighing in relief… is Yellow Cab okay?’
‘That’s fine…’ John answered looking at his empty glass of beer.
They got up from their table and put on their coats, ‘we can wait outside' he said to Mary, 'the taxi shouldn’t take too long.’
The yellow cab drove up alongside them ‘did you want a taxi?’ a young voice called out through the open window.
‘Yes', John answered, 'to Battery Park, please.’
‘Yes’ the young driver answered, looking out through the car window at the blowing snow. They arrived at their destination just as the sun began to set. ‘Battery Park’ the young driver announced through the small opening in the glass partition.
They stepped out from the car and began to walk towards the river, protecting their faces from the blowing snow. As they walked towards the river, a silhouette of the statue appeared off in the distance; it stood, unbending, in the cold winter winds.
Mary stood quietly next to John, looking out through the blowing snow at the silhouette of the statue; it seemed such a welcoming sight in this cold winter blizzard. For a moment they stood trying to imagine that day when their parents arrived.
Mary took out the old black and white photo, its edges worn and brittle, and looked at it, ‘John… she asked …can you see the island?’
‘No' John answered, looking out over the river at the blowing snow; 'I can barely see the statue.’
‘Maybe we should go home', Mary said as she put the photo into her pocket, 'this winter storm is too harsh for my old bones.’
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