Finding Rene

She was beaming a big toothy grin at me.

"Okay." I said, "I'm pretty sure that wasn't my great uncle. I mean he was old, but I don't think fourteenth century old."

Georgette giggled, "Oh, now you're trying to take the mickey out of me."

"You're carrying a mickey?"

Laura started to chuckle. Her slim shoulders rose up and down.

Before she could say anything I continued, "I don't know, maybe John Wycliffe was a distant relative...I don't know. I was here to work, not here to start a revolution or anything. It's my first visit to Bruges. I had to allow myself four days for work. If there was time left over, as it turned out there was, I knew I could easily convert myself into tourist mode. That's what I was doing when I met you guys."

"Of course," said Georgette. We all took a sip of our drinks. Laura seemed a little uncomfortable with her mom's history lesson.

"Are the Waldensians like the Romulans? Or are they more like the Klingons?" I asked Georgette with as straight a face as I could muster.

Laura broke out laughing. Georgette did not. She had a puzzled look on her face.

"Maybe the Kardashians," Laura offered laughing out loud.

"I don't know what you two are on about," Georgette said shaking her head.

"What exactly do you do, Bill?" Laura enquired, baling her mother out and, thankfully, ending the history lesson.

"I've an engineering firm. I'm afraid I'm not permitted to get into any details except to say that we designed a portion of an integrated security system at the Oostend port that was recently installed by a number of contractors. The installation is finished and I had to certify that my piece was indeed 'certified' complete and fully functional." I put finger air quotes on the term certified.

"You designed it?"

"My firm did, yes. How about you Laura? What type of law do you practice?"

She smiled at me through her grey eyes, "Nothing too exciting I'm afraid, property and estate sales, mainly. It's more or less a steady income and I get to choose my hours." I loved her proper British accent.

"Nice," I said "and how about you Georgette?"

"I'm retired," she answered, "As Laura indicated, I was a school teacher. History. My husband passed away three, almost four years ago, so rather than live on my own, I moved in with my sister. My only regret is that I don't see Laura often enough."

"I'm sorry to hear that your husband," I turned to Laura, "and father, passed away."

"Thank you," they both said simultaneously forcing smiles, then turned to glance at each other as the smiles dropped from their faces.

Hmmm. And why didn't she move in with Laura? I wasn't going to go there.

"How far away is London then?" I asked, quickly changing the topic. "Timewise," I added.

Laura answered, "It's not far. With the Channel Tunnel the entire journey is three or four hours depending on how busy it is. But I haven't got a motor, I normally don't need one in the city. If I have to rent the entire journey becomes a little bit of an ordeal."

"But you made it this time." I commented.

"I took the Eurostar train to Brussels with a free transfer to Bruges. I met Mum here this afternoon. Usually she just picks me up in Calais."

Interesting. One calls it Bruges, the other Brugge.

"So this isn't your first time to Bruges," I asked Laura, guessing that it wasn't.

"No, no but it's the first time that I've come over on the Eurostar to Brussels," she answered and then added, "Calais is a bit funny these days."

"It's just odd then isn't it, that I'd find you at the Groeningemuseum. Isn't that a tourist thing?"

Laura gazed at me with her grey eyes, "Not at all, it's a cultural thing." She paused to gauge my reaction. "Must one be a tourist to view fine art?"

She really must be a lawyer. "No, of course not." I answered.

Georgette asked, "Bill, where do you call home?"

"I live and work just outside Toronto."

"Is Canada much different to America? Georgette asked.

Odd question I thought. I wasn't sure how to answer it. "To the US," I corrected her then answered, "although we speak the same language and tend to watch the same television and sports and movies and music, North America is much more diverse than meets the eye, both geographically and culturally. And politically."

The waiter finally came by with the food. It looked delightful. Beef tenderloin tournedos about two and a half inches diameter by about an inch thick smothered in green peppercorn gravy with carefully piped mashed potato and a side of green beans and slivers of carrots. Georgette had the mussels and we all shared a fairly large bowl of mixed salad.

"Mmm. "So good." "This is wonderful." "Fantastic," was our collective reactions to the plates. My meat certainly was tender.

Laura picked up the conversation, "So tell me Bill, where on the geographic, cultural and political North American diversity scale are you?" Her eyes bore into mine, again. I wasn't sure what was up with this woman. She was being a little too serious, a little too weird. Definitely a lawyer. I wasn't sure how to answer the odd question. It was the way she said 'diversity' that threw me off a little. The question was definitely loaded. I wasn't going to make this a one way inquisition.

"I live in the country, on a forested property but there are farmer's fields, riding stables and golf courses all around me. Culturally, I'd say I'm middle America, or Canada as it were, I prefer classical music to pop, but I will listen to almost anything. Aside from the news, the occasional sports program and the History, Discovery and Food channels, I don't watch too much television, even though I live alone. I find that if I'm watching television, if there are guns involved or canned laughter, I just turn the television off."

I cut at my tournedos and stabbed a piece with my fork, ready to bite before continuing on.

"I tend to read non-fiction. I take pleasure from art in a myriad of forms whether it is music, a good film, the plastic arts, or performance. Politically, I suppose, I'm middle of the road, I don't blow any political party's horn, I tend to vote and support the candidate that appears to be the lesser of two or three evils." I paused for a moment to consider before I continued on, "But I welcome diversity in our culture and I regard myself as socially conscious and fully aware that, sorry to use the old saw, that some individuals and groups in our society need a hand up as opposed to the proverbial hand out." I paused then added, "And I'm really enjoying having dinner with you two lovely ladies." I smiled and then bit my forkful of meat.

They both stopped eating and gazed at me. Did I say something wrong?

"How about you Laura?" I asked innocently with food still in my mouth, "tell me about yourself."

I caught her. Maybe I revealed to the two of them more about myself than she was about to divulge to me about herself. Her grey eyes stared back at me. Then her chin started to twitch as thoughts formed in her mind. Georgette was watching Laura in amusement as she resumed pulling a mussel from its shell.

"I've a small house in Blackheath; my office is just a few minutes away." She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip.

That didn't really mean too much to me. "No," I pressed, "tell me about Laura."

Her mother watched on in obvious amusement as she continued to nibble on the mussels. I sliced my tournedos and scooped a little peppercorn sauce on the meat.

With chin dimples flexing she answered while placing her glass down and picking up her knife, "I'd have to say that I'm very accepting of cultural and social diversity."

"How so?" I asked Miss Nipple, trying not to grin.

"Alternate lifestyles," she answered almost dismissively as she looked down at her plate with knife and fork poised to cut some meat.

Georgette was smirking to herself. Her big white teeth were showing.

So that was it then. Laura was gay. Now it all made sense. Laura was gay and Mom didn't approve.

We ate silently for a moment. Bells started ringing from the belfry.

"How are the mussels?" I asked over the noise.

"Brilliant," Georgette answered.

"What makes them Flemish style?" I asked.

"I don't really know, they're steamed with onion, celery and herbs. Would you like to try one?"

"No, I'm good, thanks."

We ate on through the background chimes.

If Laura really was gay and her mom knew that, why would Georgette be pushing her daughter onto me? On the other hand if Georgette didn't know, it made sense that she would be trying to get her daughter married, but why me, I lived in Canada and I told them that I was flying out in the morning? On the other hand...

"Georgette," I asked, "are you as accepting of alternate lifestyles as your daughter?"

The bells ended abruptly creating a sudden sonic tension which accenting the wild looks they flashed at each other. Georgette knew Laura was gay. Clearly I found a tender spot.

Slowly smiling Georgette answered in the fresh silence with a woebegone tone to her voice, "I've learned to accept it."

I had her on the run, "And embrace it?" I asked as deliberately, nonchalantly and inoffensively as I could.

They quickly flashed at each other again. Now Laura was highly amused at her mother's predicament. I could see she eagerly awaited Georgette's response.

After too long a moment Georgette smiled and smoothly and flatly stated, "Of course." She held her fake toothy smile at me.

In that one instant Laura's entire demeanor changed. She gazed at her mother and then turned her piercing grey eyes to stare into mine. Although her chin quivered slightly, she said nothing, then a smile slowly drifted across her face. It was a smile that she couldn't hold back. She turned her face down to her plate, carefully avoiding further eye contact with me. It seemed to me that Laura was, for whatever reason, in quiet bliss.

Somehow, I was involved in that unstated emotional see-saw between mother and daughter. Was it possible that I had just accomplished something in a scant few moments that Laura was unable to do in her whole life? If that was true, then score one big one: for Bill.

I needed confirmation, using a little tact. We ate silently for a moment.

"I was in a relationship for a number of years," I volunteered, diverting the attention back to myself. "It didn't work out in the end."

Georgette piped up, "What happened?" Laura looked up to study me, completely ignoring her meal. With those grey eyes of hers beaming at me, I felt like I was being scanned by an MRI or something.

"I was engaged for nearly five years, in the end my fiancée, CeeCee, just walked out on me."

"Did she get tired of waiting for you?" Georgette asked, with some sincerity in her expression.

"Mum!" Laura interjected.

Georgette turned to face her daughter, "That is a common occurrence dear."

Laura looked at me. Her eyes said sorry, but she said nothing.

I chuckled, "No, if anything it was the other way around."

"Oh?" Georgette asked. Laura was still silent, completely focused on every syllable coming from me.

"I wanted to get married, but CeeCee kept putting it off, kept avoiding the issue, and then I guess near the end I started pushing her, which made her in turn to back off even harder until she just ran off."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Georgette said.

We both looked over to Laura. After my self-confession, she had a bit of a pale, deer in the headlights, look about her, sensing that it was her turn for a bit of personal self-confession. Her face said it all, it seemed that she wasn't willing to discuss her previous relationships, gay or otherwise, in front of her mother and/or me. Georgette seemed a little amused at Laura's situation.

"No need for me to pry into your life, Laura," I volunteered. I could see the tension wash away from her face. Georgette seemed a little crestfallen.

Confirmation plus, did I just finesse another minor point?

We ate in silence for a few moments. We finished our meals within seconds of each other, effusing just how wonderful everything was.

I excused myself to go to the washroom. Not only did I have to go, I needed to pause and think a little. It was fun having dinner with those two women. What was going to come of it? Mother and gay daughter. The two of them are off to... I couldn't remember the name of the town, and I was blasting off to Toronto in the morning. So what the hell? I figured I would just make the rest of the dinner as fun as possible, even though there was no way I was going to score with Laura.

She was cute, though, albeit in a pseudo-adolescent way.

As I returned from the washroom, I momentarily saw Laura and Georgette quietly exchanging a few heated words. The topic was dropped immediately and replaced with fake smiles the second they spotted me.

"Dessert, ladies? I asked as I sat down, "Belgian waffles, with Belgian chocolate. Better than sex, I'm told."

Probably the wrong thing to say. Laura's demeanor changed to a dour look, Georgette was almost beaming. I wondered what they were firing at each other while I was gone.

"I take that as a no to dessert," I tried to lighten the situation.

We agreed that we were all too full for dessert.

Georgette excused herself to go to the washroom.

"I'm sorry," "I'm sorry," Laura and I whispered in unison as her mother turned the corner. "I'm sorry." "No, no I'm so sorry," we continued.

"Why are you sorry?" I asked.

"My mother, she's so..."

"Unaccepting of the fact that you're gay?" I asked.

"How did you know?" She seemed genuinely shocked.

"Are you?" I pressed.

"Bi, anyway," she answered.

"I'm cool with that," I told her.

She smiled. My heart was melting for this woman. Bi was better than gay, I rationalized. Or at least my little head did. I knew I didn't have a chance with her though. I picked up the wine bottle and poured out the rest into our glasses.

"Thank you," she said, smiling. She radiated a sexy warmth about her. Fuck, she was a doll.

What was I thinking? I had a plane to catch in the morning and she was with her mother.

"So, did your mother invite me to dinner with the hopes that she could find a man for her daughter to fall in love with?"

"Exactly."

I chuckled.

"Shall we make your mother's day then?"

"How so?"

"Shhh, here she comes, quick hold my hands." Laura did it without questioning or thinking. I held her slender hands in mine above the table. Georgette's eyes bulged at the sight.

Laura's hands were warm to the touch. She gazed into my eyes with what I perceived to be a bit of wonderment, unsure of what was about to transpire. Maybe it was the Belgian beer and half bottle of wine, but all of a sudden Laura just seemed so beautiful as she sat before me. I entwined her manicured fingers in mine. I had nothing to lose.

"Oh my," Georgette said as she sat herself down.

"Georgette, you have a lovely daughter."

Georgette was in genuine shock. "Have I missed something?"

"Yes, you certainly have," I answered. "Laura has pledged her undying love for me and has forsaken, as she put it, 'her evil ways' forever."

Georgette's eyes bulged. Her face turned red.

Laura tried not to burst out laughing. I had to contain myself, too. Especially when I saw tears forming in her eyes. They weren't crying tears. They were 'it hurts so much not to be in hysterics laughing, I'm about to die tears'. I loved seeing that.

"Is that all right with you, Mum?" she asked innocently, momentarily pulling one hand away and rubbing a finger under her eye. There was a little mascara smearing going on. I loved how Laura was playing right along. Her fingers slipped back into mine. It was capital F-Fun.

Georgette gurgled something incomprehensive.

I leaned across the table still holding Laura's hands, my lips angling towards hers, she picked up on it right away and leaned towards me, all for Georgette's benefit.

We kissed. She closed her eyes. Her lips were warm soft velveteen. Maybe she was play acting, I certainly wasn't. I was lovin' it! Under Georgette's gaze or not, gay or bi or straight it didn't matter to me. I was kissing a lovely woman. Her lips were warm and soft.

"Oh my!" was Georgette's breathy reaction, "remind me to order the tournedos the next time we're here."

We broke our kiss and both turned to face Georgette. I know I had a cheese stuffed grin. I wish I had a chance to see Laura's.

"Okay, I get the hint," Georgette continued raising the tone of her voice a little, "no matter what I think, or what you two are playing at, I understand." She waved one hand in the air, "You are both adults, in a lovely town and you don't particularly need the company of an old woman at this time."

Whoa ho!

"Mum, no!" Laura protested. "We were just having a spot of fun, Mum."

"And that is precisely what I wish you to have Laura." Georgette stood up. She looked down at both of us with her big toothy grin.

The bill arrived at that instant. I stood up, so did Laura. The waiter tried to walk away but I grabbed his bicep while reaching into my pocket. I passed him three, fifty Euro notes and said thank you very much. It easily covered the bill and an outrageously generous tip.

We were all standing, kind of hovering above the table, with me next to it with a face full of umbrella.

Georgette continued, "Bill, I invited Laura to come and visit me for a very simple reason. Of course, she is my daughter and I love her and miss her dearly. But my motivation is and has been for many years now, to try to pry Laura away from the unhappy existence that I see she is living. And it's not about her lifestyle choice or suitability of partners, it is about happiness. What I've seen is that my daughter has been profoundly unhappy for many years. As her mother, what can I do about it? Scold her when I see fit, make suggestions which are largely ignored, and continue to invite her to come and visit so that perhaps I can give her a few moments of comfort as respite. That's all I can do. With you, I see a glimmer of hope for my daughter."

Huh?

Laura was certainly reacting to her mother's frankness after our playful moment. She seemed totally confused, her chin was trembling. I'm sure my jaw was a little slacked too.

"I'm not sure what game you two are playing," Georgette continued, "and it doesn't really matter. Two, or in this case three can play the game, too."

Georgette brushed herself down. "If you two wouldn't mind walking me to my automobile..."

Laura and I stared at each other in disbelief.

"I'll drive myself home to De Panne, it's quite alright. I expect you, Laura, with or without Bill, to meet me at De Witte Berg at one o'clock tomorrow for lunch. As you constantly remind me, you are a big girl now."

Georgette marched out of the restaurant. Laura and I were stunned, but we followed. Laura was pale.

On the short walk to the zone outside the canal separating the no parking inner town from the free parking outer town, Laura tried her best to convince her mother that we were just fooling around, that there was nothing between us and, "Please, Mum, don't be cross".

Georgette stopped dead in her tracks. "I'm not cross, Dear. On the contrary, I'm delighted."

We eventually made it across the canal to where Georgette's little cream coloured mini Fiat 500 was parked. She pulled Laura's weekend bag out and placed it on the sidewalk, "Mr. Wycliffe, thank you for the lovely dinner." She climbed into her car, started it, rolled down the window and while clipping her seatbelt into place said to Laura, "One o'clock, don't forget." And off she went.

Laura stood on the street with her chin twitching, watching as her mother's car disappeared into the traffic. I watched her. She was pissed. Understandably.

I felt a little embarrassed for her.