Godfrey's Sentiment

Godfrey's Sentiment(bernard renaud) Godfrey’s Sentiment
The sounds of the front doorbell woke Terence up, as it often did, from his nap. ‘I should fix that bell,’ he thought as he got up from the sofa, “Who is it?” he asked not wanting to open the front door.
‘Special delivery” a loud voice answered.
“Just leave it in the mailbox.' Terence answered in a much louder voice
‘I can’t do that' a louder voice answered. ‘You’ll need to sign for it.’
‘Okay’ Terence said giving into the shouting match. He opened the door to a brisk autumn breeze that blew the autumn leaves about the front yard.
‘Good morning?’ A voice called out to him. He turned to see his wife standing at the top of the stairs.
‘Good morning’ he answered putting the letter in his pocket.
She stood at the top of the stairs looking at his morning outfit. At his blue suede shoes, untied, his plaid shirt and faded blue jeans and thought, ‘There was casual and then there was him!’
‘Well dear, do we have any plans for this, first Saturday of autumn?’
‘I thought we could go out for dinner,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long time since we ate out.’
‘That’d be nice.’ ‘Where…?’
‘The Windy Windmill’ he answered, I made a reservation yesterday.’
‘The Windy Windmill,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that where we had our first date?’
‘What’d you think?’
‘Sounds nice, she answered, what time is the reservation.’
‘Five.’
‘Maybe we should get ready.’ ‘It’s a bit of a drive.’
‘Okay….just a few things to do.’ He walked into the kitchen and put the letter on the table. On it, he wrote ‘don’t forget.’


They drove past the old concert hall. Over the wobbly steel bridge, past an old fountain filled with autumn leaves, past the trees growing alongside the highway arriving, just as the Jim, the valet, was strolling down the walkway. Jim, as a rule, moved with a considerable slowness; believing that how you got to where you were going was far more important to than how quickly you got there. Today, under the cloudy autumn sky, he added to this philosophy a touch of melancholy.
‘Good day, to you,’ he asked wondering how he would make it through the day. ‘How long will you be staying?’
‘Long enough to eat,’ Terrence said with a smile.‘Don’t fall asleep in the car.’
‘You're welcomed,' Jim answered not hearing much of what Terrence had said. ‘This is going to be a rough day, ’ he mumbled to himself as he stepped into the old blue Buick.
A tall, thin man greeted them at the door and walked them to a small round table for four, whose candles flickered over the table top. They sat across from each other, saying little. It was an odd moment; a curiously silent one, when both sat quietly looking through the pages of the menu.
Terence, whose nature was to chatter, endlessly, sat back in his seat, fiddling with the pages of the menu, uneasy with his question. Carmen, whose nature was to sit quietly listening to Terence, sat looking out the window of the restaurant feeling uneasy with the silence.
They sat listening as they did to the humming of voices of people, who talked about distance memories. Of childhood experiences in the autumn leaves, of college years, spent with friends during the cold winter months.
‘May I take your order?’ their waiter asked interrupting the silence.
She looked up at him a little startled. ‘Could you wait a second?’
‘Certainly,’ their tall waiter said. ‘I’m here until eight.’
‘Thanks, she said. Terence, do you remember what we ate?’
Terence looked at her, a little puzzled. ‘Ate, I usually remember what we eat.
‘I’m relieved to hear that,’ she said. ‘I meant do you remember what we ate, here, on our first date?’


‘No, I don’t’ he answered searching somewhere in the back of his mind, but all, he saw, was a light mist, drifting about.
She looked through the menu, quickly, her eyes glancing at the pages as she turned them. ‘Found it,’ suddenly said pointing to the bottom of the page. ‘I’m surprised they still have it on the menu. She waved for their waiter, who, seeing her hand waving in the still air, calmly strolled over to their table.
‘Are you ready to order?’
‘We would like this’ she said pointing to the bottom of the menu.
‘A good choice,’ he answered, that’s our most popular dish. ‘Would you like something from the bar?’
‘Beer would be nice.’
‘And you, sir.’
‘Beer’ Terence said closing the pages of the menu. The oddness of the night returned. Carmen sat quietly looking over at Terence, who lost in the sounds of a melody the piano player was playing started to wonder if this an uneasy moment would pass.
‘Terence!’ she finally asked, no longer willing to endure the silence. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, Terence said nothing. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘You awfully quiet tonight.’ ‘A little distant.’
‘Just listening to the music,’ he answered trying as he could to settle the churning feeling in his stomach.
‘Okay’ she answered feeling no more at ease. ‘I was just wondering.’
Terence looked over at Carmen and then out the window of the restaurant; wondering if now wouldn’t be a good time for…’
Godfrey and Rochelle drove along the street. Past the old concert hall. Over the wobbly, steel bridge and past the fountain filled with autumn leaves. Past the roadside markets, past the roadside cafes. Stopping, somewhere along the highway, to fix their old station wagon.
‘Might need a tow’ he said.

‘Maybe it’s time for a new car,’ Rochelle answered standing by the side of the road.
The topic of the Buick was as old and tired conversation; one that ran up against Godfrey’s love affair with the old car. It was, at times a sore point between them at least until bedtime, at others times, a topic for comic relief. He had said they would buy a new one, soon, and she believed him, but for now a tow truck would have to do.
The red tow truck, its yellow light flashing in the still night air, rolled up to the restaurant. Jim whose nature was to sit quietly staring up into the night sky imaging, as he did; far off places looked down, towards the arriving tow truck, and smiled. ‘Just put it over there’ he said pointing to the parking lot.
The driver waved to him and drove off, parking the De Soto next to the old blue Buick.
‘How are you Carmen’ a familiar voice said.
‘She looked up, a little startled to see Godfrey and Rochelle standing next to the table ‘what are you two doing here?’
‘Came to earn our room, and board’ Godfrey said sitting down next to her.
‘Funny,’ she said. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I came to give you this’ he said putting a letter on the table.
“What’s that?” she asked him.
“A letter...’ He waved his hand for the waiter who, seeing Godfrey’s hand waving in the air, calmly strolled over to their table.
“You’re helpful! ’ she replied. ‘Who’s it from?’
‘Form Terence,’ he said. ‘Could we have two beers?’
‘Certainly’ their waiter said.
‘And you sir…?’
‘No, I’m fine for now’ Terence said.
‘Would the young ladies like something from the … ’


‘The young woman, Carmen said interrupting their waiter, would like beer.’ ‘Maybe more than one,’ she added looking at the letter and then over at Terence. 'Terence, when did you start writing in French?’
‘I haven’t, he said, trying as best he could to settle the churning in his stomach. ‘I asked someone at work to write it.’
‘Maybe you should have asked them to dinner,’ she said looking over at Godfrey. ‘Can you read this?’
He looked at the words written in words that were as foreign to him as were the words of some ancient language. ‘No, but maybe another beer might help’ he said waving his hand in the air. Their waiter seeing, once again, the waving hand of Godfrey quickly reached for his tray and walked over to the bar.
‘Wonderful’ she said looking at the letter; ‘how about you?’ she asked Rochelle.
‘Two more beers…’ Rochelle said looking over at Carmen. ‘No, I speak only one langue and it’s not French.’
Maybe, another beer would help!’ Carmen said. ‘I guess I’m on my own.’ ‘voulez-vous-.’ She started, stopping after the first word. Somewhere, she was certain; in the back of her mind, there were the meanings of the words. ‘renouveler nos.’ She continued, ‘voeux de mariage’ only to stop once more feeling more frustrated. The misty memories of her high school French were lost somewhere in foggy memories of her high school lessons. She looked out the window, up into the night sky, hoping to find a less earthly translator. Suddenly, from out of the blue or, on this particular night, from out of the cloudy night sky, it struck her, the meaning of the words. Though, the why was still a mystery.
‘So, Terence, she said, looking over at him, you want to renew our wedding vows.’ She looked over at Godfrey. ‘What do you think?’
‘Think,’ he said waving his arm in the air for the waiter, who feeling preparedness was a road to success, had placed a few bottles of brew on his serving tray. ‘Think,’ he repeated. ‘I avoid thought as much as I can; sentiment is a far better guide. ‘Didn’t your words take root.’ ‘Why dig them up.’ ‘It all sounds quite painful.’
Carmen looked over at him a little surprised. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘Not sure, he said, looking up at their waiter, thanks.’ ‘Maybe from those gray clouds drifting overhead.’
‘Romance,’ Terrence offered in his defense, feeling the weight of some tragic of error. ‘To give some life, he continued with the strength of his belief, to those words we said so long ago.
‘Did they died?’ she asked. ‘I can feel them, here,’ she said pointing at her chest. ‘With every beat.’ ‘And now you want to stand in the rain under the branches of that old oak tree and do it all again.’ ‘Why?’
‘Romance,’ Terence said once more waving his hands in the air as if this was nothing less than obvious. ‘That day had a touch of romance, a touch of humor.’ ‘You in your red gown, me in my blue tux, the priest in his brown robe; all of us soaking wet. We all looked like wilted summer flowers.’ ‘I just thought it would be nice to relive that moment.’ He sat back in the chair, feeling the weight of this tragic error though he was unsure of its nature.
‘We did,’ she said recalling that day with some fondness. ‘But I agree with Godfrey.’
‘Agree with me!’ he said reaching over for his glass.
Carmen looked over at Godfrey a little annoyed. ‘ there’s a first time for everything.’ she said.
‘I guess miracles do happen,’ Godfrey said. ‘And this one he continued looking at Rochelle we’ll write; in our memoirs.’
Carmen ignored Godfrey's remark, putting it aside as she often did.She put the letter on the table and looked over at Terrence, who sat quietly, watching the rain falling in the street light. As romantic ideas go, he thought as he watched the rain fall, this one seemed to have had some flaws.
He watched the rain falling on the acorns scattered under the branches of an old oak tree. For a moment, he imagined their marriage like that old oak tree; Its roots deep in the ground, its trunk growing high into the autumn sky. And then, like those eureka moments that come from some mysterious place, It struck him; Godfrey’s sentiment.