Words

Two monks, who have taken a vow of silence, are making their way through a forest when they come upon a fast moving river they must traverse. Standing at its edge is an old woman who is too frail to wade across. The first monk asks her if she wants him to help her cross. She assents and he carries her to the opposite bank as the second monk follows behind. Once on the opposite bank, the old woman thanks him for his help and moves off on her own. Several days later, the second monk asks the first why he broke his vow of silence. The first monk answers “Brother I left the old woman on the river bank. Why are you still carrying her with you?”

A Variation of a Zen Story

Daniel often wonders why he even bothers to see his parents when he comes back to town. Even though he has travelled thousands of miles to see them, George and Bonnie are not particularly interested in anything he is doing or has done. It has always been that way. The fact he was the first person in the family to graduate from university was of no import. His starting a successful business is of little interest as well. Their aspirations for him did not go beyond being not being a drunk, not being a criminal and not being unemployed. Everything else he had done, or would ever do, would always be trumped by the fact he left his wife and child and set out on his own. Leaving his marriage was too high a price to pay for anything he would ever achieve. Anything.

As his parents have gotten older, it has become harder and harder to get them to acknowledge any act that has taken place outside the confines of their small apartment except for the lottery draw. Daniel has begun to think that perhaps it is best he never visits them again. One way or another, it always upsets him. It is clear whatever it is he wants from them is never going to be realized. Those are the thoughts running through his head as he moves his finger toward the intercom buzzer.

Daniel’s mother is all a twitter when he enters the apartment. She appears to be happy to see him and offers him a cup of tea. It is always a cup of tea, regardless of the occasion. His father acknowledges him, but remains seated in his rocker recliner smoking a cigar. Daniel thinks that this is his enduring image of his father, cigar and smoke and vacant stare. All his life he has wondered what his father thinks about and never shares. Just once he would like to be inside his father’s head so he could understand what goes on in there.

After a few niceties, Daniel asks about the circumstances of his siblings, all of whom live in cities close by, but who visit his parents only marginally more than he does. His questions are met with perfunctory answers except when he asks about his older brother Jack. Doing so prompts his father to say more than a few words.

“Jack is in therapy and he thinks coming here and asking me question after question is part of the process.” Daniel has never expected the word therapy to ever come out of this father’s mouth.

I’m not sure what you mean Dad.”

His father is now visibly annoyed. “He keeps on asking me questions about what I was like as a kid. How I felt about my brothers and my mother. And my father. I hardly even knew my father. He was gone long before I was old enough to ask him a question.”

Daniel is not surprised that Jack has asked his father those type of questions. He too would like answers to them. He is sure all his brothers and sisters would be interested in his father’s responses. None of them have any more insight into his father than he does. But his father is never going to play some kind of television role about a man who suddenly gains insight into the workings of his life and then proceeds to vomit out all his fears, failures, insecurities and hurts. All in 60 minutes or less.

“I wouldn’t dwell too much on that dad. He is probably trying to figure out why he is the way he is.” As soon as those words leave Daniel’s mouth, he wishes he could take them back. He has added fuel to the flame.

“So, he thinks that by interrogating me, he will find out who he is? All of us are responsible for our own lives. He can’t blame me for the way he turned out.”

Daniel gets an image of Jack with his father. He can clearly see how Jack’s approach to asking questions could be exactly like an interrogation.

“I don’t think that he is trying to blame you for anything. That’s not the way therapy works,” Daniel says.

Though Daniel is not absolutely certain of his brother’s motivations. Maybe there is some sort of confrontation that is necessary for his therapy to work. If so, it will prove to be a pointless exercise.

“I didn’t have a father to help me when I was growing up. There was nobody there to take me to a ball game or anything else. I had to leave school to help feed my mother and brothers. I never got to go on vacations the way you kids did. I had to make my own way in the world with no help from anyone.”

As those words are uttered, Daniel catches his mother glancing at his father with a look that appears to say, “You might want to rethink that statement husband of mine.”

Daniel is hesitating about what to say next. He takes a leap. “Well then, if Jack can’t blame you for how he turned out, you can’t blame your father for how you turned out can you. As you said, we are all responsible for our own lives.”

Daniel’s father looks at him and says nothing. Daniel can see he is angry.

Daniel’s mother knows she must spread oil on troubled waters. That is her job.

She pipes up. “He is mean to us. He doesn’t even have Wendy call us grandpa and grandma. She always calls us Mr. and Mrs. Lehman.” His mother’s eyes are filled with hurt. She hurts easily, even when she is the co-architect of the pain.

Daniel doesn’t know what to say. The truth would be to tell them they have paid little or no interest in any of their grandchildren. They weren’t mean to them. They really weren’t anything to them and now they expect them to come visit them and create a Norman Rockwell painting. Speaking the truth would be to ask them who they really think they are. Do they actually think they are kind and loving grandparents? Regardless of all that, Jack’s daughter calling them Mr. and Mrs. Lehman is not by chance. It is a mean response to the real or imagined hurts of Jack’s childhood.

Daniel looks at his parents and debates about what to say next. He voices a different truth.

“Look Dad. What it all comes down to is that as kids we wondered if you really loved us.”

His father responds in a way that is very much him. “I love all my children.”

“I don’t doubt that,” says Daniel. “I’m not saying you didn’t. I’m just saying that we wondered.”

Again, his father says, “I love all my children.”

Then Daniel utters words that have never left his mouth before.

“Ok then, tell me you love me.”

“I love all my children.”

“That’s not what I asked. Tell me you love me.”

“George, tell Daniel you love him,” says his mother.

His father remains silent and Daniel can feel pressure building up behind his eyes.

“Well, I guess it is time for me to go,” he says.

Nobody argues with him. As he is putting on his coat, his mother asks if he will bring his daughter, Susan, to see them while he is in town. He tells them he will bring her by tomorrow even though the changes of that happening are slim to none. When he gets into the hallway of his parent’s apartment building, Daniel leans up against the wall and sobs.

Back at his hotel that night, Daniel cannot sleep. He is desperately trying to understand his parents. He asks himself if he thinks they are conscious of the things they do that alienate them from their children. Were they bad parents? He knows they could have been much, much worse. Did they beat him? No. Did they sexually abuse him? No. Did they lock him in a closet? No. Were they drunks. No. Did he ever worry about them getting a divorce? No. Did they feed and clothe him? Yes. Were they there for him when he needed them, like the time he had to go to court for car theft? Yes. Are we all responsible for our own lives regardless of what we experience?

Daniel decides he will take a different tack. He tries to imagine them deciding how they were going to treat him when he was a child. He imagines them lying in bed plotting against him.

“Bonnie.”

“Yes George.”

“I was wondering. Do you want help me fuck up Daniel?”

“Oh, very much so. You know I always do what you want me to honey. What do you think is the best way to really fuck him up?”

“Well Bonnie, I was thinking that maybe creating abandonment issues in him might be very good. You know, make it hard for him to make real connections.”

“Oh, and make him a real suspicious person. The kind that is always checking up on their mate.”

“l like that Bonnie. I really like that. It’s the kind of thing that will stay with him for the rest of his life. I really don’t think there is anything else that could fuck him up more. When should we start?”

“Let’s start tomorrow.”

“Hold on a second. What if he realizes what the issue is that is controlling his life is and figures out how to get rid of it.”

“Daniel? Can you see him working that hard? If we do our jobs well, he will be so fucked up he will never have the luxury of reflection. Not going to happen my love. Good night honeybun. Sweet dreams.”

Would those sentiments have ever come out of the mouths of his parents? Would they have entertained such thoughts? Would they have used that vocabulary? Is there a difference between making a mistake that hurts somebody and purposely setting out to hurt them?

Daniel has forgiven himself for things he has done that have hurt people. Given all the mistakes he has made, who is he to question the activities of others? Are you who you think you are, or are you as others think you are? Do we all act out of our own lights? Is it your fault if you are given a sixty-watt bulb to work with? Are the hundred-and-fifty-watters better at life, or are their fumbles and failings just different? Exhausted, Daniel finally falls asleep.

The next day, Daniel is once again pressing the intercom button. It takes forever for his parents to answer. They know he is coming and it is him that is using the buzzer, but his mother will always ask him who he is to make sure some potential miscreant isn’t trying to enter the building.

As he and his daughter, Wendy are riding up in the elevator, he asks her to make sure to call his parents grandpa and grandma Lehmann. She agrees. “Will grandpa Lehmann read me a story?” she asks holding up the copy of the Velveteen Rabbit she has been carrying with her all morning.

 “I don’t know sweetie,” Daniel says while at the same time thinking that there is a much chance of that as the pope getting married. Once inside his parents’ apartment, his mother is once again all a twitter. She is truly happy to see her granddaughter.

“Would you like some juice, Susan?”

“Yes, grandma Lehmann.”

Daniel’s mother looks at him, her face all warm and soft. While she is getting the juice, Susan goes over to his father’s chair. “Grandpa Lehman why do you smoke? It’s really stinky.”

Daniel isn’t sure how his father is going to respond. He suspects it is not going to be good. He is wrong. “Well Susan, I can stop if you want me to. I don’t want to be stinky,” he says with a smile on his face.

“Will you read me a story grandpa?” she asks holding out her book. To Daniel’s surprise, his father takes the book from her and Susan crawls up onto his lap. His father begins to read. He changes his voice for different animal characters. His deep horse voice makes Susan laugh.

Daniel looks at his mother frozen in place holding Susan’s juice and smiling at his father. He looks at his father reading to his daughter and sees he is wearing a face Daniel has never seen before. A feeling of calm comes over Daniel. He is floating free. It is as if a great weight has been taken off him.

By the time Daniel Lehmann made it to high school, he had quite enough of being bullied. He had been laughed at en masse, locked in a stolen truck and left for the police to find, stripped naked, assaulted and thrown out into the snow, pushed into oncoming traffic, had his clothes torn and his boots filled with peanut butter, been held down and had his hair set on fire, had a dart thrown into his back.

The list was a long one. He thought starting high school with a different group of guys would be better. Catholic high schools weren’t known as tough places. He was sure life would be easier there than it had been thus far in Scarberia hanging out at Parkway Plaza. The guys he knew there were what some people called greasers. They were greasers, or wannabe greasers, who were working their way up from reform school to deuce less a day and eventually hard time.

Daniel was going to the first co-ed Catholic high school in Toronto. Surely the presence of girls would soften the high school experience. What he didn’t know was that there were no shared classes. The only time you could talk to one of those girls in their white shirts, grey vests and skirts was after school. You couldn’t even sit with them in the cafeteria. A high school dance was an exercise in forced chastity.

The worst part was that a chick that he met at Parkwoods Plaza was going there. When he met her in the summer a year ago, he was less than kind. She had just moved to Toronto from someplace else in the province. She had some kind of pixie cut hairdo and was wearing pedal pushers. She was not in his league. No way was she competing with the other chicks he knew. And besides, she was a Catholic. Not exactly known for being good-time girls. But something had happened to her over the summer. She somehow changed into a beautiful young woman, the best looking girl in the school. A girl who did not forget the guy that brushed her off at the plaza.

What Daniel had not known was that a large part of the male student body was made up of guys that had been denied entrance to the better Catholic high schools or who had been expelled from the same. A lot of them were repeating grade nine. He also had not counted on what it was going to be like being taught by Christian Brothers and Sisters of Mercy. Brothers he did not know, but two of the nuns had made Daniel miserable in grades one through eight. Now they were going to be able to continue to do so.

Most of the Brothers seemed to been from  Montreal neighbourhoods even tougher than the one he was trying to escape from. They were not only tough, they were mean. That reality was driven home the day Tom Murphy was late for French class. Brother Louis asked him to step outside the classroom with him. A few seconds later, there was a loud bang as if someone were being thrown against the lockers in the hallway. Murphy returned to class with a split lip and tears in his eyes. Brother Louis then told the class that  as they could clearly see, punctuality was very important. The brothers were good at quick and efficient punishment. There was a lot of that.

Daniel’s year in grade nine was miserable. Given how the brothers treated students, going to them and complaining about being bullied was not going to solve anything. High school was his neighbourhood all over again. There wasn’t a day that went by he wasn’t pushed into a locker, had his cafeteria tray knocked out of his hands, knocked down in gym, had his cigarettes stolen,  or was just generally roughed up by Kevin Ruskin’s gang.

Though he wasn’t big or even tough looking, Ruskin was a bully of major proportions. There wasn’t a single kid in the school who wasn’t afraid of him. Even guys who were bigger than him either gave him wide berth or became his henchmen. Daniel couldn’t figure him out, from what he could tell Ruskin came from a neighbourhood like Rosedale or some place like that. Daniel didn’t even know where Rosedale was. He had only heard and read about it. All he knew was that it was supposed to be really high class. Why Ruskin wanted to bully everyone was anybody’s guess. Daniel wasn’t sure Ruskin had ever been in a fight, even though he liked to shoot a boot toward Daniel’s face every time he saw him.

By midway through the school year, Daniel had begun to hate Ruskin as much as he was scared of him and did everything he could not come into Ruskin’s orbit. In a small school which had opened with only one grade, that was not an easy thing to do. In the end, it all got a bit much for him. He could not escape being bullied even on weekends. If he went to the plaza to hang out, the odds were pretty good that he would find himself low in the pecking order. It was as if he had a big kick me sign on his back. Daniel hated being on the receiving end of whatever it was that made some people want to push others around. Something had to change.

There was nothing special about the day Daniel fought Kevin Ruskin. Nothing foreshadowed what was going to happen after school. It was just another day. That changed when Brother Denis had to leave the classroom and Ruskin walked over to Daniel’s desk and kicked his books onto the floor. In a second, Daniel was up out of his seat and going at Ruskin. Ruskin was shocked. No one had ever challenged him before. He was totally unprepared for Daniel to shoot a fist into his face and knock him to the floor. Once that had been achieved, Daniel stopped immediately. Brother Denis was going to come back soon and the Brothers liked to hand out suspensions in the full knowledge that parents would always come down on their side.

Ruskin got up and said the words Daniel never wanted to hear.

“After school, I am going to beat the shit out of you.”

Those words caused an excited stir in the classroom. There was going to be a fight. There was going to be a fight. It was the last class of the day and Daniel watched the minutes tick by as he pondered his fate. In 30 minutes, he was going to be part of a story everyone would want to tell. In 20 minutes, he was going to find out just how tough Ruskin was. In 10 minutes, he was going to find out how badly injured he was going to be. In five minutes, Daniel was considering just running away. But he couldn’t do that. He would rather get beaten up than run away from a fucker like Ruskin.

When the buzzer rang to at the end of the class, there was a rush for the door. It seemed like everyone wanted to get a good place to watch Daniel get his. Ruskin left with a pack of guys around him. Everyone likes to be on the winning side. The only person that stood by Daniel was Kenny Bowen. He too had been on the receiving end of Ruskin’s bullying behaviour. But Kenny also had the pleasure of being called a queer and a fairy. Kenny couldn’t have fought off a cold much less Ruskin. He probably didn’t weigh much more than a 100 pounds and he had limbs like matchsticks. But Daniel appreciated that he stood beside him. He wouldn’t forget that. Ever.

By the time Daniel and Kenny got outside, a semicircle had already formed behind Ruskin. Even the girls had come to watch. When Daniel got close enough, Ruskin started taking off his blue blazer. A mistake that no kid from Parkway Plaza would ever make. Daniel realized immediately that Ruskin could not move his arms. What happened after that. Daniel only knew because Kenny told him.

Daniel had no direct memory of anything that happened before the ambulance came to take Ruskin to the hospital. Apparently, he had immediately hit Ruskin with a left and then a right. When Ruskin got his blazer off and put his hands to his face to check for blood, Daniel kicked him in the balls. When Ruskin fell down, Daniel kicked him in the face. If Daniel hadn’t been pulled away, Ruskin’s face would never have been the same. Kenny told him that he thought he was going to kill him and was glad Daniel was pulled away.

Even before the ambulance came to take the howling in pain Kevin Ruskin away, there were a lot of people standing behind Daniel. Weasels always want to be on the winning side. He would not forget that. Daniel had no desire to accept congratulations from any of them and he and Kenny just walked away.

“What are you going to tell your parents?” Kenny asked. “Nothing,” said Daniel. “They’re going to find out soon enough.”

That night, Daniel spent most of his time in his bedroom trying to imagine what his punishment would be for being in a fight. There was certainly going to be punishment both at school and at home. He just didn’t know what it would be. The next day, he found out. He and Ruskin were to be suspended for three days and his mother and father would be informed of that.

His parents were livid. As they told him several times a day for three days, they were not paying for him to go to Catholic school just so he could get thrown out for fighting. They did everything they could to make sure he did not get a three-day holiday.

When Daniel returned to school after his suspension, he was called to the principal’s office. Brother Denis had him stand at attention in front of his desk.

“So, what is it that you have learned by having this fight Mr. Lehmann?”

Daniel looked at him and said nothing.

“Mr. Lehman, what have you learned?” Brother Denis asked again.

Again, Daniel said nothing.

Brother Denis stood up and posed the question again.

Finally, Daniel said, “I have learned how fucking satisfying it is to beat the shit out of a bully.” Brother Denis slapped Daniel so hard he was almost pushed to the floor.

As Daniel slowly walked home, he wondered how his parents were going to react to his five-day suspension.

Thirty-five year old Daniel has finished browsing through the books at Shakespeare and Company and is now wandering aimlessly thinking about what he should do for lunch and wondering why even though he is in one of the most exciting cities in the world, he is not in a better mood. He is young, reasonably good looking and has enough money to go wherever he wants. That leads him to wonder if he has ever really been happy no matter where he is or who he is with. Happiness does not seem to be part of his lot in life and he does not know why.

As he walks along the sidewalk next to the Seine, he sees an old lady standing by the entrance to the Pont Notre Dame. He notices her hat first because it looks a little like the shape of the helmet his father wore during the war. He thinks his father told him that it was called a brodie helmet and it was the same one worn by British soldiers. The woman’s hat is shaped like a shallow bowl with a pronounced rim. Its light brown colour closely matches that of the woman’s coat. Even though the coat is old, Daniel sees that it still shows evidence of once having been an expensive purchase. A small bouquet of flowers is peeking out of her shopping bag.

The old woman has what his mother called widow’s stoop and she is using a cane to help her stay reasonably upright. Why osteoporosis was deemed to be the preserve of widows Daniel does not know. As he gets closer, the women catches his eye and motions for him to come to her. Daniel wonders just exactly what she wants from him. He can’t give her directions. She doesn’t look like she would want money. Maybe she just wants to know the time.

“Hello monsieur,” she says to Daniel when he gets close enough to hear her. “Are you going across the bridge?”

Daniel has no intention of crossing the bridge. He wants to stay on this side of the Siene because he knows the area and what it has to offer in way of reasonably-priced meals. “Yes,” he says much to his surprise.

“May I hold your arm while you walk?”

“Of course, madame,” Daniel says in an almost distracted manner. He is there and he is not there. He is at a distance looking at himself and the old lady and wondering how a kid from Scarberia who was being groomed to pump gas for the rest of this life ended up in Paris having a conversation in French with a French grandmother. Who among the assholes he grew up with would have seen that coming?

Daniel and the old woman set off at a pace that is beyond glacial. The woman quickly recognizes it is difficult for him to match her step.

“I am sorry I walk so slowly monsieur,” the woman says. I think you would find it difficult to imagine I was a dancer.”

“Really?” says Daniel. “A professional dancer?”

“Oh yes,” the woman says. She turns to him with the slightest of smiles. “Before the war, I was one of the principal dancers in the Paris Opera Ballet.”

Daniel has to admit that he does find that surprising, but he supposes that one day someone will look at him and all they will see is an old man with thinning hair, liver spots on his hands and a paunch and will never be able to imagine that he had any other existence than the one they see.

“What was that like”?

“Oh monsieur, it was marvelous. It was one of the best ballet companies in the world. Serge Lifar was ballet director. The dancers were like movie stars. We were invited to all the best parties and for weekends in the country houses of the rich. It was big thing for a little girl from Rouen. It was truly wonderful, but then the Nazis came. I refused to dance while they occupied my country and as it turned out, I never danced again. The war had taken a toll on my dancer’s body.”

Daniel does not know how to say anything that isn’t trite. “That must have been a very sad time.”

“Such is life monsieur. It never travels in a straight line.”

“What did you do during the war?”

“I killed as many Nazis as I could.”

She can see Daniel is shocked and doesn’t know what to say. “I was in the Resistance. It was my duty to France to kill them.”

As if she reads Daniel’s mind, she says, “As it turned out, I was very good at it. I liked the knife the best. It is a very personal way to kill. You feel the warmth of the other person for a second and then you take it away just like they would take yours away. Do you mind if we stop here for a moment?” she says pointing to a plaque on the side of the bridge.

Daniel is not about to object. He watches the woman take dead flowers from a vase attached to the plaque and throw them into the Seine. She reaches into her shopping bag, takes out the bouquet and puts it in the vase. For a moment she bows her head and Daniel reads the plaque that says Jean Paul Forget, Philip Dupont, and Jacques Catry, Resistance fighters, died on that spot fighting for France and liberty.

A few seconds later, the woman takes his arm begins to shuffle again. “Did you know those men?” Daniel asks.

“Jean Paul was my husband,” she responds. “I was supposed to be with him that day, but was sent on a different mission. They killed several Nazis on this bridge and for a long time I wished I had been there to join in the killing and in the dying.”

Again, Daniel does not know what to say. What are the correct words to use when someone is telling you about a husband who was shot to death? Is it better just to say nothing? If he does that, will she think he didn’t hear, or even worse, that he doesn’t care?

“I can’t imagine how terrible that must have been for you madame.”

“Life never moves in a straight line monsieur. As bad as the death of Jean Paul was, the horrors of war taught me a valuable lesson. If you would like, I will pass it on to you.”

“I would like that very much,” says Daniel almost truthfully. They haven’t even reached the midpoint of the bridge, so he may as well keep her talking.

“Everywhere the Resistance sent me during the war, there was death, destruction, oppression and sadness. That had a bad effect on many of my comrades. The only thing that seemed to keep them going was the idea of killing. I watched that eat their souls, and I didn’t want that to happen to me. I didn’t want to end up going crazy or committing suicide like so many of them did after the war.”

“So, what did you do to survive with your soul intact?”

“A very good question monsieur. What I did was to look hard to find some joy in every day. Sometimes it was the sound of a bird singing, oblivious to the war. One day it was the sight of a flower that had pushed its way up through the pavement. It might have been a child laughing or the sight of lovers kissing in the rain.”

Daniel has nothing say. It sounds a bit saccharine.

“I can see by your face monsieur that you don’t really understand what I am saying. Let me see if I can explain it better.

Daniel doesn’t really want an explanation, but he lets the old lady continue.

“Each morning when I woke up, there was a good chance that it would be my last day on earth. I could have prayed to God for deliverance from the evil that surrounded me. But God had clearly abandoned the world and left it in the control of black-uniformed monsters. I didn’t want all my days to be full of only misery and blackness. I told myself that I would never go to sleep at night until I identified some joy in my day to celebrate, even if it were just for a moment. When I found that moment, I told myself that if I were to die in the next second, I would die a happy woman remembering joy.”

“Oh, I see now,” Daniel says while nodding his head slightly.

“Actually, you don’t monsieur. That is not the lesson I learned. Perhaps it is by looking at your life, I can help you understand mine.”

She definitely has Daniel’s attention.

“Are you happy monsieur?” she asks, but does not give him a chance to respond. “If you are like the rest of your generation, I suspect not. Your generation seems to think that to be happy, happiness must be a constant. I can tell you it isn’t. Nothing is a constant. So, what you do is take one thing that has given you a moment’s joy and connect it to the next thing that gives you joy. Think of it like a strand of pearls.”

She stops talking for a moment as if she wants him to actually be able to see a strand of pearls.

“So how is a strand of pearls made?” she asks and turns her face directly toward Daniel’s. It takes him a moment to realize that she actually wants him to answer her question. He has to think about it for a second. “You put pearls on a string,” he says.

“That is true monsieur, but how do you put the pearls on the string?” Daniel is confused. “There is really only one way to do it.” Daniel thinks he understands now. “One at a time?” he asks.

“Yes Monsieur. Treat the joyful thing you saw as if it were a pearl. See the string as your life. See yourself finding joy after joy and adding pearl after pearl. Each moment of joy snugs up to the next one. They are never apart. Except for the first one. That is the hardest one because you have to see the world in a different way. You have to learn to see all the joy you have been overlooking.”

The old lady has given him a lot to process and he isn’t sure he wants to take the time to do that. Trying to evaluate his life based on advice given to him by an old lady on a bridge would be strange at best.

“Thank you for walking with me monsieur. Now I must go do my shopping.”

Daniel is surprised that they have crossed the bridge.

“Have a good day monsieur.” Daniel touches her arm and the woman turns to look at him. “Madame, what did you do after the war?”

“I became an existentialist philosopher,” she says as she slowly shuffles away.

Suddenly, Daniel is very tired. Jet lag is catching up with him. He decides to forgo lunch and return to his hotel and take a nap. He will have supper instead.

Daniel falls asleep almost immediately. When he awakes, he is ravenous. He is not sure he wants to wander around looking for a good place to eat. A good meal would be wasted on him. After wandering for a while, Daniel comes across a Quick, France’s version of a fast food joint. Daniel doesn’t care. He will eat just about anything. He settles on a cheeseburger, ironic fries and a chocolate shake.

As Danie eats, he watches an old lady on the other side of the small restaurant. She is counting coins and putting them in her change purse. Like the woman on the bridge, she has severe osteoporosis. When she is finished, she puts the remnants of her food on a bright orange tray and prepares to take it back to the counter. Daniel stands up and walks over to her.

“Would you like me to take back the tray for you madame?”

The woman is a little shocked at Daniel’s sudden appearance. “Thank you, monsieur, but I can take it back myself.”

Daniel watches her triumph of independence as she moves slowly toward the counter. He returns to his table and finishes off the dregs of his milkshake. As he is getting to the noisy part, the old lady passes by him. He is watching her move toward the door when she turns and throws him two kisses.

An unfamiliar feeling comes over Daniel.

A young woman two tables away watches Daniel as he puts down his milkshake and lifts his hand toward his face. She wonders what he is doing. He has created a small space between his thumb and forefinger and is looking at it and smiling at nothing.

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