The Other Side of Agnes

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“For dinner? Oh, I was planning to have dinner at home...”

“A baguette?”

“The baguette is for breakfast in the morning. I had thought to open a can of soup; some bread...a smidgeon of cheese...”

“That is not a satisfactory dinner, girl. You need some protein: some meat or fish.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right.”

“Suppose?”

“You are right.”

“Of course I am right. Do you enjoy seafood, Agnes?”

“I love seafood.”

“Then, it is time I introduced you to the best seafood restaurant in Paris: nearby and their fish is incredibly fresh. The meals are reliably delicious.”

“I’d...I’d love that, Frederick. That sounds wonderful.”

“Then, give me your croissant and I’ll put it with my things. We can pick them up later.”

She watched him as he retrieved the packaged croissant from her basket and put the items through the register. He beckoned to her to come along. Again, he was off at a fast pace. Agnes was really more a stroller than a speedster and she had to concentrate to keep up with him.

Two blocks later when the light turned green for them, he took Agnes’ arm and wrapped it around his arm. This prompted her to walk at the same pace as him.

“Ah, that’s better. You just need some leadership.”

“Is that what I need?”

“Certainly.”

“I see.”

“I doubt you do.”

Agnes didn’t know what to make of him. She knew it felt wonderful to be in his company but she was a little unnerved. He gave her the sense that she could at any moment make a mistake, or reveal something that she wished to hide. The uncertainty silenced her and she said nothing for the remainder of the journey which was really only another five minutes.

“Here we are.”

He opened the door for her and she was immediately enchanted with the cafe. There were red and white check tablecloths on the tables and each table had a candle lit in the middle of the table. It had the sort of bohemian flavour that she adored: not stuffy at all but comfortable and enchanting. They knew him here and they were quickly led to a table by the window overlooking the street and all the people walking by. Two glasses of red wine were on the table in a matter of moments and they raised their glasses to Frederick’s words.

“To a balanced meal.”

Agnes smiled.

“To a balanced meal.”

She knew he was joking around with her a little and she enjoyed it; not in the least offended.

When they had taken a sip of the wine a need to explain herself came over Agnes but she stumbled, trying to find the right words.

“I hope that I didn’t offend you...my running off that day you took me to your apartment. My father was very clear with me that I should not trust strange men.”

“Your father is right.”

“He is?”

“Goodness, yes. A lovely girl such as you must be careful with strangers.”

“But, Frederick, you were a stranger to me...”

“Was I? Well, yes I was. Am I still a stranger to you?”

“You are playing with me!”

“Perhaps a little, but I am no threat... just a quiet living Parisian who enjoys the company of lovely young women.”

“Whatever you say, Frederick.”

“Ah, the girl is trainable.”

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

He ignored her question.

“Are you still in love with Paris, Agnes? Not yearning for a quieter, simpler town life?”

“I miss my family a little sometimes, of course, but I was very ready to move. There was nothing to keep me there eventually.”

“I think you could have found a photographer who would have taken you on. I suspect you have a very good eye.”

“Perhaps, but advancing in my profession was only one reason to move. I had a couple of boyfriends in the past but I always felt a bit...awkward. I...I felt...well, I felt so out of place there.”

“Oh?”

“The boys seemed so immature. I don’t know what it was exactly. It just didn’t work out. They were nice boys but they made me feel that I was doing something wrong. I don’t really know why I am telling you this...I have never said it to another living soul...not even my sister...but coming to Paris was an escape for me.”

“You wanted to get away from someone in particular?”

“No, not really. I wanted to get away from the sense of myself that I was a misfit; that I wanted something unattainable.”

“Agnes, I know we don’t know one another well, but I can assure you that you are not a misfit here.”

“You really think so?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, that is nice to know.”

The waiter brought the menus but Frederick waved them away and told him that they would both have the salmon, but that instead of the potatoes they would have green beans. Agnes took note but she said nothing. She rather enjoyed him taking charge. It gave her a chance to sink into her favourite persona, that of observer, rather than participator.

She found him very appealing. She liked the way he wore his clothes – his crisp white shirt and his dark blue linen suit – no tie. She was attracted to the fact that all his movements had a self assurance about them, be that buttering bread or gesturing to the waiter when their glasses were empty. She enjoyed watching every move he made. But, he wasn’t giving away much; merely asking her question after question. She felt it only polite to respond to them and it was not until they were half way through their meal that she had a chance to ask him a question.

“Do you live alone, Frederick?”

“Yes, I do now. I was married but it didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nicole and I are still the best of friends but we grew apart. We wanted different things.”

“Do you have children?”

“No children. I think that was best under the circumstances.”

“Do you get lonely living alone?”

“Not really. I have a great many friends...people with similar interests to me.”

“May I ask what you do?”

“You may. I am a banker.”

“Oh...so you arrange mortgages...that sort of thing?”

He smiled at her simplistic response.

“Not quite. I am in takeovers and acquisitions.”

“Wow. I am afraid I don’t know too much about finance.”

“There is no need, Agnes.”

“Well, father says...”

“I am sure your father guided you well; that is plain to see by how you have turned out. But, you are a grown girl and you need guidance in the here and now.”

Something in Agnes opened up; some private drawer in her mind that had been jammed shut loosened itself and burst open. She knew this wasn’t what she was meant to do, but she was giving herself to Frederick as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She neither corrected him nor made the slightest pretence towards suggesting that he was taking unwanted liberties. To the contrary, she revelled in the notion that he was taking charge of her; leading her to some dark place that had been inside her since she was a small child.

Agnes desperately wished that he would cancel the coffee and the crème brulee he had ordered for them to share. She was hungry now for something else...she knew not what it was exactly but she sensed that Frederick could offer it to her. She was in a rush now; a rush to sample anything that she had waited all these years to taste. But, Frederick was taking his time; sipping his coffee, commenting on the smoothness and delicacy of flavour of the crème brulee until she feared that she would lose self control.

At last, he had the waiter bring the bill; rejected her offer to pay half and at a maddeningly slow pace, uncharacteristic of him, walked her back to the supermarket to collect their parcel.

“I shall walk you home.”

She felt her heart drop. There must be something wrong with her, after all, she determined. She became silent; withdrawn; lost in her insecure thoughts and sense of frustration.

He stopped and turned towards her.

“Agnes? Is something wrong?”

“Frederick, I don’t really want to go home.”

“Where do you want to go, Agnes?”

She remained silent.

“Where do you want to go, Agnes?”

“With you.”

He said nothing: merely changed direction. She breathed a sigh of relief.